Stealing Home (27 page)

“Why don’t you run out there and give him one of those big kisses with that look in you women’s eyes that says there’ll be more of that to come if you hit a homer?” Reynolds sat down beside me in the dugout, taking a break from his pacing.

“I’m working, Reynolds.”

“I know, I know. You’re the team’s athletic trainer first on game day, Archer’s girlfriend second, but come on, Doc.” Reynolds waved at the giant scoreboard that seemed to loom above the outfield. “This is the last inning of the last game of the biggest series in our lives. A little motivation couldn’t hurt. Compliments of your lips and feminine guile.”

“Feminine guile?” I blinked at him. “Who’s spending their nights reading romance novels?”

Reynolds snorted. “The most action I see during the season is on those pages. I’ll take what I can get.”

I gave him a look that suggested conversation time was over, and I got back to focusing on number eleven’s bat as he took a few practice swings before stepping into the box. After both of us had sat down with Coach to divulge our relationship—he’d basically responded that as long as it didn’t affect our jobs, he could give a shit who we played footsie with—Luke and I went public. We knew it would get out sometime, and we both felt more comfortable having it come out the way we wanted instead of the way the press would spin it.

Luke had given a small press conference and started with mentioning that I was the best damn athletic trainer he’d had the privilege of working with. He followed that up with admitting I was the best damn woman he’d had the privilege of falling in love with. It was short and simple, and after the country had buzzed about Luke Archer’s swoony confession, the story died down and life had gotten back to normal. Except now Luke and I shared a hotel room when we traveled, and we didn’t have to worry about sitting next to each other at some team meal.

I loved not having to hide our relationship anymore. I loved how certain he’d been about wanting to announce it. I loved
him
.

I’d known this season would be life-changing. I just hadn’t known it would be because I’d fall in love with a great man who would manage to help guide me through the minefield of my fears until we’d reached the other side.

Something else had changed after that night under the stadium lights—Shepherd had gotten his marching orders. Which was kind of ironic since he was the one who’d told me that’s what I had to look forward to. Coach had been madder than a badger when he found out what had happened, and when Luke straight up told Coach he would not play on the same team as that kind of man, Shepherd was gone so fast most of the players didn’t realize it for a few games.

The viper was gone, and even though I’d never let anything anyone said to me affect my trust in Luke again, it was a relief to not have to share space with Shepherd twelve hours a day.

“Hey, you wouldn’t happen to have any cute, single, athletic training friends, would you?” Reynolds nudged me as he leaned forward. “I need an Allie Eden of my own.”

My legs started bouncing. “None judgment-impaired enough to date you, Reynolds.”

Reynolds’s deep chuckle rocked his body. “If that was a qualifier, I’d never score another date again.”

“Please, Reynolds, you know I love you”—I wiped my palms on my slacks—“but shut the hell up.”

“I talk when I’m nervous.”

My breath stopped when Archer crouched into position, the entire grandstands seeming to follow. “And I throw elbows when I am.”

Reynolds shoved off the bench, getting back to pacing the dugout like he’d been the second half of the game.

The first pitch, Archer had to jump out of the box to keep from getting hit. Leaping from my seat, I had to bite back the string of curses the rest of the team were firing at the pitcher for taking a shot at one of their own.

The second pitch came in the same way. The sons of bitches were trying to walk him by beaning the hell out of him. They’d been trying to walk number eleven all night but hadn’t sunk to this level yet.

When Luke stepped back into the box, he didn’t throw a glare the pitcher’s way like I was. He didn’t give away that he was the slightest bit flustered. He just eased into the box, taking a different position than he normally did when he was at bat, and waited.

“That crazy bastard’s actually going to try to hit one of those widowmakers.”

My legs kept bouncing, silent prayers on my lips.

As the pitcher wound up, Archer made a last second adjustment, then the ball was whizzing toward him. It was high and inside again, but somehow Luke managed to connect with it. Everyone in the dugout rose to their feet, watching the ball sail into the outfield. It clinked off the wall of center field.

The dugout unleashed when Roberts made it to home, tying the game. Archer made it to second and nodded at us all while we continued to cheer like raving lunatics.

Mackey was up next and hit a line drive deep into right field, getting him safely to first and Archer to third. There were two on base as Hernandez moved up to the plate.

By now, I was standing with the rest of the team, leaning out over the dugout, ready to split open from the tension. From third base, Archer glanced into the dugout, his gaze stopping on mine. From the slant in his smile alone, I knew what he had in mind.

I thought back to that conversation we’d had months ago, when I’d told him not to do it, that it was too risky. This time, I gave him my nod of approval. His smile widened as he leaned over to whisper something to the third base coach. After a little back and forth, I could see that Archer had gotten his way. He usually did in my experience. A team didn’t typically advise a runner to steal home with runners on base, but with their two strikes on the board and being tied at the bottom of the ninth, it became more appealing. Hernandez was one hell of a shortstop, but not the hitter you wanted up in this kind of a situation.

The moment the pitcher wound up, I held my breath and didn’t let go. Archer started pulling away from third, every muscle in his body primed for a burst of adrenaline. When the pitcher noticed Archer creeping off third, Archer feinted back to third, just enough to entice the pitcher into trying for the out. As soon as the pitcher threw the ball to the third baseman, Archer hauled ass to home.

The entire stadium lunged onto their feet, their shouts pumping onto the field. Hernandez backed away from the plate as the third baseman fired the ball at the catcher. Luke lunged back for third, the catcher whipping the ball back to his teammate. On it went for what felt like an eternity, Luke getting closer to home, while the Miners’ catcher and third baseman got closer to him.

There was a reason players didn’t steal home anymore. It was next to impossible to do. That was the reason Luke wanted to do it so badly. He didn’t believe in impossible. He didn’t let the odds scare him. He didn’t let the fear of failing keep him from trying.

He lived life the same way he played baseball.

When the ball smacked into the third baseman’s mitt again, Archer went for it. His legs a blur of movement, he powered for home plate, his elbows stabbing into the air behind him. No one was bouncing and shouting in the dugout anymore —everyone was silent.

Archer flew into the air as the ball careened back to the catcher looming over the plate. It was going to be close. The ump was in position, not daring to blink as both the ball and Archer’s body sped to home plate.

He exploded down on home, dust erupting all around him as his momentum sent him barreling into the catcher, who’d just caught the ball and was swinging his glove onto Archer’s back.

I was still holding that same breath while everyone waited for the call that seemed to take forever to be shouted.

The moment the ump waved his arms out at his sides, I started screaming. So loudly I didn’t even hear him yell safe.

He’d done it—he’d stolen home.

Luke Archer had done more than that though. He’d stolen my heart too.

As the fans went wild, the Shock charged the field. Typically the support staff didn’t rush a field with the team, but there was nothing typical about what had just happened. Weaving into the mix, Reynolds cleared a path for me up the stairs so I didn’t get trampled. Once we hit the field, Reynolds grabbed me. I somehow ended up on his shoulders as he charged toward the swarm of bodies at home plate.

Luke had just been tossed up onto a couple of his teammates’ shoulders and was throwing his hands toward the stadium, only fueling the fans’ excitement. Somewhere in the midst of it all, he’d lost his batting helmet, so his damp hair was bouncing as the guys holding him leapt beneath him.

Reynolds and I were charging down the third base line when Luke’s head turned. A dozen emotions played on his face, a dozen more lighting up his eyes, but there was only one I felt when he looked at me like he was now—like I was the only person in this sold-out stadium. Like I was the only person in the whole world.

The stadium was roaring with noise, a flurry of scenes vying for attention, but I didn’t miss what he shouted as he lifted his arm and pointed in my direction.
For you.

Reynolds’s impressive size made cutting through the crowd a reality I never could have managed on my own. He somehow managed to barrel right through the mess of players until Luke and I were within arm’s reach.

Luke was grinning at me like he’d just challenged the world to a duel and come out the victor. Holding out his hand for mine, when I placed it in his, he stabbed our combined hands into the air. The noise shaking the stadium grew louder as what felt like millions of lights blinking at us from the stands flashed all around us. It was a beautiful sight—the reaction of thousands of fans to Luke Archer stealing home plate to win the biggest game of any player’s life.

I’d never forget it.

But as I glanced back over at Luke, who was still staring at me, I knew the sight in front of me now was the most beautiful one I’d ever seen. The one I’d always remember. The way the man I loved was looking at me when everyone else was looking at him.

I didn’t just see a future when I looked at Luke—I saw the explanations of my past. The answers to the hurt. It had brought me to this very moment, molding me into the person I was today—the person Luke Archer loved.

His love was worth the price I’d paid in my past. His love was worth any price.

It was priceless.

“YOU KNOW WHAT seeing you in my jersey does to me,” Luke greeted as he kicked the front door closed, his arms loaded with grocery bags.

“I’m also in cut-offs and sneakers.” I fought a smile as I washed tomatoes for the burgers we were grilling tonight.

“So? All I see is my name on your back and it does things to me . . .” Dropping the bags on the counter, he swung around the island until he was behind me. His arms wound around my waist, his body pressing into mine—a certain part of it pressing into my backside. “And depending on your mood, it does very good or very bad things to me.”

The tomato dropped into the sink, my hand melting beneath his touch. I tried to fight it—the feeling of being utterly and totally under his spell—but I failed every time. Luke and I had been together for a while now, and after all of this time, he still touched me like it was our first and kissed me good night like it was our very last.

“This jersey that’s got you so worked up also has spit-up on it from earlier.” I tipped my head back to look up at him, tying my fingers through his hands. “Still all hot and bothered?”

His head nuzzled mine, his hips pinning me to the counter. “You have no idea how much of a turn on spit-up can be on the woman who gave me the most beautiful baby in the whole damn world.”

As I laughed, I checked the clock on the wall. The same wall Luke had hung the framed cover of the two of us on
Sports Anonymous
—thankfully, I’d talked him out of hanging it on every wall in the house. We had ten minutes until people were supposed to start arriving. I might have preferred a bigger window to enjoy my husband’s body, but I knew from experience we could make ten minutes work.

“If you can make it quick, you’re on.”

I hadn’t finished my sentence before he had me spun around, his fingers already working on my cutoffs. “You don’t steal home without being quick, Mrs. Archer. I think I can manage.”

My hand had his shirt just about over his head when we heard it. Luke and I shared a groan.

“Built-in radar, that one,” I said, pulling his shirt back over his head before heading toward the nursery.

“I’ve got her.” Luke grabbed my hand before I could get far. He dropped a kiss on my forehead before jogging down the hall.

“If you think she’s got you in the palm of that tiny hand of hers now, just you wait, Luke Archer,” I hollered down the hall after him.

He chuckled as he disappeared in the room across from ours. “In her palm, in your heart, I’m a happy man.”

The baby monitor was propped on the counter in front of me, but I didn’t turn it off. I kept it on because I loved witnessing these private moments between Luke and our daughter.

“Afternoon, sunshine. Did you have a nice nap?” Luke came into view as he leaned over the crib, which made Lily’s little legs start kicking like crazy, her face lighting up from seeing her daddy. “Let’s get you up and ready for the party. And holy . . .” Luke said as he picked up Lily. “For something so sweet, you stink something fierce.”