“Welp, they’re at it again.” Doug strolls up beside me, nodding at the small sign.

  “Looks like I was wrong about it being Madonna. I guess it’s Kevin Costner.”

  He wheezes another laugh, slapping the top of his leg. “Wouldn’t that be something?”

  “Yes.” I shake my head at how much he likes that joke. “Still, it’s a good clue. Whoever it is loves the 1980s. Maybe he or she is somebody your age.”

  “Maybe it’s Drake Reynolds.” Doug nods towards the dispersing crowd. “There’s a Field of Dreams bourbon, and Drake wants to build that big resort to attract all the fans of Stone Cold.”

  “I never saw that movie, and the signs predate his plan.”

  “Just ruling out possibilities.” Doug shrugs. “What are these little guys doing?”

  “Batter… batter, batter…” Owen’s voice rings out from the first base line, and I scan the mostly empty field.

  Ryan stands where the pitcher would be, and Adam is covering third base. A little girl about my daughter’s age stands with a bat, in front of a tee with a ball on top.

  “We want a pitcher, not a belly itcher!” Pinky’s voice taunts from the dugout across the field under the trees.

  My stomach tightens when I spot Cass outside the fence on the opposite side of the field chatting with Julia Belle.

  “You got this, Crimson!” Julia calls, clapping her hands.

  Julia and her mother Liberty moved in with Terra after Christmas. I don’t know why or what happened, but I’m pretty sure the little batter is Julia’s daughter.

  She pulls the bat back, and when she swings it forward, I notice her eyes are closed. Miraculously, she still hits the ball, but she doesn’t stop there. She does a full twirl all the way around before staggering a few steps, almost falling.

  “Run, Crimey, run!” Pinky is on her feet, yelling at the top of her lungs.

  Owen dashes forward to scoop the ball off the ground, and he charges at the surprised four-year-old. Her brown eyes widen as she drops her helmet, and she turns and starts running to her mother.

  “Wrong way, Crimey!” Pinky is jumping up and down, screaming so loud I’m afraid she’ll go hoarse. “Run to first base! Run to first!”

  It’s too late. Owen tags her, and Adam walks forward to try and comfort the now-crying child. Julia goes to them and picks up her daughter. Crimson puts her head on her mom’s shoulder, sucking her fingers, and the two return to the dugout.

  “There’s no crying in baseball,” Owen grumbles, kicking dirt as he returns to his spot at first base.

  “Good play, Owen!” Doug calls, clapping, but I’m not getting pulled into this little-league drama.

  I’m not even sure if this is a real game, and I’m willing to bet my brother is forcing him to play with the girls.

  Instead, I hustle over to where my daughter is pulling on a helmet, grabbing a bat, and striding onto the field with purpose. Cass’s eyes light when she sees me, and she jogs to meet me halfway.

  “Hey.” I fight the sudden urge to pull her in for a kiss.

  She’s so pretty with her hair up in a ponytail, the ends bouncing around her smooth shoulders. Her stomach is exposed by her crop top, and she’s a little breathless.

  “You’re not going to believe how well she can hit the ball!” Her cheeks are flushed. “She didn’t want to use the tee, so Adam is doing coach’s pitch.”

  Glancing up, I notice the boys in the field are backing up. Pinky is at the plate, and she lines herself up like a pro, lifting the bat and squinting one eye. She even has a little ball of something in her cheek.

  “Is my daughter chewing tobacco?”

  “Big League Chew.” Cass snorts a laugh. “I have no idea where Adam found it, but he gave it to all the kids. He said it’s what the real players like.”

  Ryan is covering third now, and my brother stands midway between the pitcher’s mound and home plate, holding up the ball. “You ready, P?”

  “I was born ready!” she yells.

  Cass turns wide eyes on me, and I look down, covering my laugh with my hand. Bender was right, she’s only getting feistier as she gets older.

  A boy in a catcher’s mask squats behind her, and I nod in his direction. “Who’s the little guy catching?”

  “One of Owen’s classmates.”

  Adam holds up the ball and gently tosses it underhand to my frowning daughter. I hold my breath as she swings hard. Her eyes don’t close, but she also doesn’t make contact. It goes straight into the little guy’s mitt.

  “Strrriike!” The catcher growls like a real umpire. “You got lucky, kid. You couldn’t hit the ground if you fell off a ladder.”

  “I can to hit!” Pinky shouts at him. “I’ll hit you!”

  “Look at me, P!” Adam calls, breaking up the scuffle. “Ready? Keep your eye on the ball.”

  She nods, pushing her helmet up her forehead, and my brother pulls back for another easy pitch. Pinky’s elbows rise, and she winds up, lifting her little leg as she swings with all her might. Her lips push out, and the bat makes contact with a loud crack.

  “Holy shit!” My jaw drops, and the ball shoots past Adam, almost hitting him in a line drive.

  He’s not wearing a glove, and he dodges just in time. Pinky’s running hard, rounding first base on her way to second. Owen is chasing the ball into center field, and Ryan’s on third yelling for him to throw it. When he does, it goes past Ryan’s glove. My daughter keeps going, pumping her little legs as fast as she can, and now I’m yelling.

  “Run, Pinky, run!” Cass is screaming the same thing as me, and jumping up and down beside me as she grips the fence.

  “Throw it, Ryan!” the catcher yells from home, and Adam is behind him now.

  My throat is tight, and I’m gripping the fence in both hands as my daughter drops to one leg.

  “Holy shit!” I say again as her little body slides between the kid’s legs seconds before the ball hits his glove.

  “Safe!” Adam yells, and I launch over the fence, running to where she’s jumping up and down, pumping her fists over her head as she cheers.

  Scooping her up in my arms, I put her on my shoulder, holding her hand as we jump around home plate. “You hit a home run, P!”

  “I did!” she yells, smiling so big.

  “She hit a homer!” Cass cries as she dashes through the opening in the fence to where we’re cheering.

  Adam, Julia, and Crimson are with us, dancing all around, and Owen, Ryan, and their friend are standing with their arms crossed watching us.

  “Come on, boys.” Adam motions to them. “That was a great play.”

  Owen shakes his head, but he walks to where we’re standing. “Good job, P.”

  Pinky wiggles on my shoulder, and I set her on her feet. She immediately runs to Owen, throwing her arms around his waist and hugging him.

  “Thanks, Bubba! I couldn’t have done it without you!”

  Cass and I exchange a worried glance, and Cass quickly kneels beside the two. “You did show her how to lift her leg to get more force. Remember?”

  “Oh, yeah.” Owen nods, patting her little arms half-heartedly. “You learn fast.”

  My daughter turns to Cass and hugs her. “I love baseball! I love you, Cass!”

  Sliding my hand over the ache in my stomach, I can’t help but agree.

  CHAPTER 18

  CASS

  Pinky’s tummy is full of hot dogs, and she’s in the tub learning to sing “Take Me Out to the Ball Game” with me while I wash her hair. She’s as enthusiastic about singing as she is about everything, and I especially enjoy it because I know Alex loves to hear us.

  “What are cracker jacks?” Her little nose wrinkles as she slides her hands over the soap suds.

  “Caramel-coated popcorn.” I take the spray nozzle off the side of the tub and use it to rinse the shampoo out of her strawberry curls.

  “Why do they call it cracker jacks?”

  “That was the brand. It came in a box with a little prize in it.”

  “I want a little prize!” Her blue eyes are round as she looks up at me.

  Standing, I lift the towel off the rack and hold it out for her to jump. “I’ll try to find you some. I’m not sure they even make it anymore.”

  Alex sits at the foot of her bed, waiting as I carry her from the bathroom. “I was so proud of you hitting a home run today, P.” His voice is warm, and his daughter beams with delight.

  “Uncle Adam says I learned to hit faster than anybody!” she brags.

  “You’re a natural.” I slide the gown over her head and braid her hair so it doesn’t get her pillow all wet.

  Tucking her in and kissing the top of her head, I’m about to leave when Alex catches my hand. “Wait for me.”

  Heat blooms in my stomach. “Okay.”

  He moves to sit beside her against the pillow, and she puts her head on his chest with Piglet tucked under her arm. Tonight they read about Curious George playing baseball, and I watch a few moments as her eyes blink slower and slower to the sound of his deep voice.

  It’s cozy and perfect, and my heart warms as I watch them, dreaming of what it would be like if this were real. Only, it’s not real, and I force myself to back away before I forget I’ll be leaving in a few weeks.

  On my own again, but at least I have a plan now.

  I go to the kitchen to wait, and when Alex finally arrives several minutes later, I’m standing beside the bar, unsure whether to sit or stand. My heart beats faster, and all I can think about is last night and how incredible it was and how I ran.

  He’s a bit more casual, going to the refrigerator and taking out a bottle of water. “She was really something today. I had no idea she could do that.”

  The smile in his voice eases my tension. “Adam and I were both pretty shocked the first time she made contact. It was a foul ball, but he was pretty confident he could teach her to straighten it out.”

  He shakes his head. “My brother is always full of surprises.”

  “I remember.” When we were in school, Adam would go from winning math awards on a Friday to being arrested on a Saturday night for breaking into a hotel pool with his buddies to swim. “I almost got in trouble with him a few times. He always covered for me, because he knew Aunt Carol would ground me for life.”

  “Dad threatened to leave him in that little jail cell overnight, but Mom wouldn’t let him. Adam was a wild child, but he’s working hard to be a good man.”

  “I think you’re right.” Lifting my chin, I smile. “Like his brother.”

  “We were never alike.” He exhales a laugh, walking around to where I’m standing, pausing when he catches his reflection in the mirror behind the table. “Hell, l I do look like him though, with this mop. I’ve got to get a haircut.”

  He scrubs a hand through his soft, dark waves, and I go to him, plucking my fingers in the sides. “I think your hair looks nice, but I could shape it up for you.”

  “That’s right.” Hazel eyes meet mine, and it’s electric. “I forgot stylist is on your résumé.”

  “Did I give you a résumé?” I squint one eye at him.

  Before dinner, I showered and changed into a halter-top maxi dress with a network of laces across my back, and we’re standing so close, the heat from his body radiates against mine, so inviting.

  “I remember because you stopped doing hair before I could pay you a visit.”

  “You can visit me now if you want. All of my stuff is upstairs, and you can sit in the big tub.”

  “I want.” The way he says it tingles in my stomach.

  “Do you think Pinky will be okay if we leave her here? ”

  “I’ll use this.” He pulls out his phone and in a few taps, he shows me a night vision image of Pinky asleep in her bed with Piglet clutched to her side. “I haven’t used it in a while, but it still works.”

  “That’s a pretty high-tech baby monitor.” Stepping back, I walk to the door leading to the garage. “Right this way, sir.”

  His eyes trace down my body, and I turn before my cheeks flush. I’ve been dying for another chance to thread my fingers in his soft, thick hair, and tonight I plan to take my time.

  “I like what you’ve done with the place.” He looks around as we step into the cool loft apartment.

  I’ve decorated it with a few oversized, beige throw pillows on the small sofa, a woven rug I found at a flea market, and twinkle lights strung along the wood ceiling. Candles and succulents are on the end tables, and my things are tossed around.

  “I don’t have a lot of stuff, but it comes together.” I go to where the crates I used when I moved in are stacked, taking two and carrying them to the bathroom. “This bathroom is a real treat.”

  He follows me into the generous space. “Everyone appreciates a good bathroom.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.” I stack two crates in the center of the garden tub. “Sit here, and I’ll grab my scissors.”

  When I return with my roll of scissors and combs, I stumble to a stop. He’s sitting with his shirt off, looking up at me like a total snack. His hands are propped behind him on the crate, and the muscles in his arms are toned and flexed.

  His broad chest is covered in a dusting of dark hair I remember tickling my sensitive nipples, and the lines in his stomach are mouthwatering.

  A naughty smile curls his lips, and his eyebrow arches. “Should I have left my shirt on?”

  “No.” I shake my head, lifting a towel off the rack. “I’ll just put this over your shoulders, and we can get started.”

  “Do I need to wet my hair?”

  Lord, I don’t know if I can handle seeing him wet again right now without bursting into flames. “I’ll do a dry cut.”

  Catching the hem of my dress, I step into the tub in front of him. His clean scent of soap and warm woods meets my nose, and I thread my fingers all through his hair, gently pulling it out to measure.

  “Cut it the way you like it.” His voice is quiet, and I nod, lifting my scissors.

  My fingers slide through his silky strands, and my palm caresses his cheek. I take my time, doing my best to guide the clippings away from his body as I study his profile, his straight nose and full lips. His face is so close to me, I could lean down and trace my lips along his forehead.

  After a few heated minutes, he glances up. “What happened last night?”

  It’s a gentle question, not accusatory, and I thread my fingers in the back of his hair, my palm grazing his neck as I think about my answer.

  “We got too close.” I move around so I’m between his legs again.

  I could slide my fingers over his bare chest. I could straddle his lap and kiss his lips.

  “Is that a bad thing?” His low voice tingles my core.

  “No.” I swallow the thickness in my throat and confess. “But I felt a little overwhelmed. I needed to get control.”

  “Did you?” I nod, and his hands move to the outside of my thighs, warming my skin through the thin material of my dress. “Is this okay?”

  “Yes,” I answer without hesitation, and his hands move higher, around behind me, sliding over my ass.

  “You’ve been on my mind so long, but I don’t know you. I want to know you.”

  His hands move to the small of my back. They move higher to touch my bare skin under the laces, and I shiver. I’m not wearing a bra, and his touch is making my physical response very obvious.

  “What do you want to know?”

  Lifting his chin, he looks up at me, his arms around my waist, and smiles. “Why do you learn to do all these things?”

  My hands are on his shoulders, and I lift one to trace my thumb across the top of his cheek. “Curiosity. I like a challenge. I like surprising people with what I can do.” I tilt my head to the side, studying his perfect face. “I like knowing how to take care of myself.”

  “Are you finished with my hair?”

  “I think so.” I put my scissors and supplies away. “I didn’t take off too much.”

  “Thanks.” He takes the towel carefully off his shoulders and rolls it, dropping it on the floor, then returns his hands to my hips.

  “I like having you here in my place. I like hearing you teach my daughter songs.” His face is at my stomach, and he lifts my left hand. “I like you wearing my ring.”

  “I like it, too.” My fingers are in his hair, and I think I like it too much.

  “Is this okay?” He kisses my stomach then looks up, smoldering hazel eyes meeting mine. “I don’t want you to run away from me again.”

  My tongue slides over my bottom lip, and my stomach trembles. It’s so okay. “I won’t run away from you again.”

  He stands off the crate, wrapping his arms around me. My breasts flatten against his bare chest, and only thin rayon separates my body from his.

  He cups my jaw, leaning down to pull my lips with his. “What was that song you were singing in the ocean?”

  “‘I Have a Dream.’ It was from…” I gasp as his mouth moves behind my ear, kissing and nibbling the sensitive skin there. “Broadway.”

  “It haunted my memory.” His fingers slide along the laces covering my back, undoing them one by one. “The same way your body haunted my dreams.”

  Electricity skitters through my veins with every touch. “I love the way you touch me.”

  My dress falls, and he leans down, cupping my breast and pulling my nipple into his mouth with a firm suck. A loud moan rips from my throat, and he straightens, consuming my mouth again. This time he parts my lips with his, and his tongue sweeps in to find mine.

  I clasp his cheeks in my hands, rising on my toes to meet him, chasing his lips with mine, tasting his tongue.

  “No one has ever touched me like you do.” I gasp as his mouth moves to my cheek.

  “Come with me.” He holds my hand as we step out of the bathtub, leaving my dress behind.

  We’re both topless. He’s in jeans, and I’m in a tiny scrap of a thong. He moves quickly, guiding me to the bedroom, and turning me so my chest is against the wall.

  “I have to be inside you now.” It’s possessive and hungry. “You have no idea how crazy you make me.”