Page 29

twenty-five

. . .

[Declan]

After four glorious days with India within easy reach, we are separated once again during the days. However, each night I find myself steering my pickup in the direction of her house during our next series of games, which are home against Cincinnati.

Montgomery has returned from summer camp but spends the weekend with Michelle and Brent.

We have an away matchup with New York and then return home for another three-day stretch. I can’t wait to see both my girls which happens sooner than I think.

When I pull into the garage beneath my building, I find a car parked in my assigned spot.

The numbers on the ground match the apartment address.

But then I watch a vision step out of her car and I fumble to set my truck into Park.

Leaving the engine running, I step out of my vehicle, smile already wide and pleased.

“Wildfire? ”

“I couldn’t wait another minute to see you.” She approaches me with such force that I fall back against the side of my truck, laughing while we kiss one another.

“What are you doing here?” I murmur, brushing back her wild hair and staring into her bright eyes.

“I would have met you at the ballpark, but . . .”

The team bus drops us off at the stadium after a road trip so guys can collect their cars or be picked up by their significant others. Her hesitation is the team. No one can know about us, and I understand.

I’m just fucking happy to see her and I kiss her again, hard and swift, and spinning her so her back hits the side of my truck.

“Fuck, wildfire,” I groan, moving down to her jaw. “Let me just look at you.” I pull back and stare at her, like kissing her hasn’t just proven she’s really here, standing in my garage, waiting for me.

I kiss her one more time and she hitches her leg against my hip.

With my hands on the back of her upper thighs, I scoop her up, pressing her back against my truck while she wraps both legs around my waist. I grind into her, ready to bust out of my pants and take her right here in the dirty underground garage.

Instead, I say, “Let me find a place to park and then we can go upstairs.”

Within minutes, we’re making out in the elevator and fumbling into my place. Three days has been three days too long without her and we make it only as far as the peninsula before I have her shorts off and my pants down. With her seated on the countertop, I watch as I glide into her.

“Like sliding into home.” Only I don’t mean a baseball metaphor.

Entering her is like coming home, and she was here to welcome me back. A man could get addicted to someone like India. Her exotic scent. Her throaty laughter. Her body fitting so nicely against mine.

In the morning, I’m ready to take advantage of my bed partner once again when I hear the distinct slam of my apartment door.

“What the hell?” I scramble out of bed, throw open the door, and meet the angered gaze of my fourteen-year-old, whose face is streaked with tears.

Fuck . “What happened?” I step forward then stall because I’m sporting morning wood and wearing only boxer briefs. Cupping the front of myself a second, I stare at my girl, then lift a hand, motioning for one minute.

Sneaking back into my room, I close the door behind me.

“Is everything okay?” India asks, her voice groggy from sleep and sexy as fuck.

“Montgomery is here,” I state, rushing to tug on joggers I’d draped over my laundry hamper. Scrambling back to the door, I slip out and shut it once more behind me.

The second Montgomery meets my eyes, hers narrow.

“Are you hiding something in there?”

“No.” My brows hitch as I protectively stand in front of my bedroom door.

“Are you hiding someone in there?” My suspicious daughter narrows her eyes even more as if she can see through the wood barrier.

“What happened with you?” I state, stepping forward and clasping her shoulders in an effort to ignore her question and focus on her. “Why are you crying?”

“Mom.” Her voice cracks.

“Again.”

Michelle and Montgomery have a great relationship, but it isn’t perfect.

Equally, Michelle and I worry about Montgomery.

She’s almost fifteen. She’s beautiful and smart, and a little too na?ve about the world.

That’s on purpose, but also a fault. We don’t want her to ever be hurt, as if we can prevent any heartbreak.

“What happened this time?” I ask, just as my bedroom door pops open and India steps out wearing an oversized Terrors T-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts two sizes too big for her. She looks ridiculous and adorable all at once.

“Daddy,” Montgomery whispers as I turn my attention from my bedhead girlfriend to my startled baby girl.

“Montgomery, this is?—”

“India Baker,” Montgomery shrieks, stepping forward like she’s about to hug India and then stopping short. Her voice is still high-pitched and her cheeks pinken when she says, “You’re a field reporter for The Den.”

“I am.” India softly smiles while combing her fingers through her hair.

Montgomery is apparently a fan, but then her brows pinch, causing a deep divot between them. “But you just came out of my dad’s bedroom?” She flips her wrist and points toward my room like India didn’t know where she came from.

India looks at me. I glance at Montgomery. Montgomery stares back at me.

“Dad, is India your girlfriend ?” she addresses me with equal parts horror and awe, like she can’t believe someone as awesome as India would date me or that I’m dating. Period.

“It’s . . .” Complicated . Would my fourteen-year-old understand?

“We’re dating,” India states. Her gaze latches onto mine a second, hesitating, vulnerable, but I can’t contain the slow climb of my lips, curling in pleasure.

“Definitely,” I confirm before glancing back at Montgomery. “But it’s on the down low. As in, no one can know.”

I hate how it sounds. like we’re sneaking around, which we are, but not for some salacious reason .

“You remember that Isaiah is India’s brother,” I remind Montgomery, who loves her friend-uncle.

Montgomery nods. “Is that why this is a secret?”

While I haven’t spoken with Isaiah directly, only catching up most recently with quick text messages, my relationship status with India hasn’t been shared with him by me or his sister.

“No. It’s about India and The Den.” I pause before further clarifying. “India works for The Den as a field reporter.” Apparently, Montgomery knows this fact. She just fangirled over her.

“Could you lose your job for dating her?” Montgomery addresses me as if India isn’t standing here.

“No, baby. India could lose hers.” The truth hits me smack in the chest and almost freezes my lungs. While I’ve known India’s reservations and I understand her fears, stating it out loud sounds so much more detrimental.

She could lose her job by dating me .

Montgomery is silent for a second, as if processing this reality. I’m still spiraling through it as well, when Montgomery eventually says, “But isn’t love more important than a job?”

India sharply inhales behind me, and I don’t know if it’s the mention of love or the innocence in my daughter’s question. Still, I snap. “Montgomery.”

“Daddy, I’m just sayin’—”

“Maybe think before you?—”

“It’s okay,” India interjects, stepping closer to my side but keeping her gaze on Montgomery. “Have you ever had a crush on a boy?”

Montgomery scoffs. “Of course.”

What? When?

“Did you want everyone to know?”

“No,” Montgomery scoffs.

Slowly, India’s lips lift in that lazy curl that I love. Because I am thinking love, and I do love her, but we aren’t there yet. And I have my daughter to deal with.

“Keeping our status quiet is about respect,” I state, turning this conversation in a different direction. “I want to protect India.”

“Because of a job?” Montgomery emphasizes, blue eyes matching mine blink up at me.

“India’s work isn’t just a job. It’s her career,” I stress. My hands land on my hips like I’m ready to physically guard India. “A job is something you do. But a career involves passion.”

I glance from India to Montgomery. “Women like Indie are paving the way for girls like you. She’s the future.”

More women in sportscaster positions. Hell, even more women in professional sports, although that’s certainly been on the rise in the last decade or more.

Soccer. Basketball. Female phenoms are nearly as popular as men in the traditionally male-centric, once male-only, broadcasts.

And India wants to be part of the wave that changes things surrounding baseball.

As Montgomery watches me and India lays her hand on my forearm to calm my racing heart, I take a deep breath and heavily blow it out

“Monty, honey, what happened with Mom?” Let’s get back on track to the real reason for a slammed door. My daughter was due to visit for the next few days before I leave for a week on the road, but I hadn’t planned to see her until almost noon today.

“Just Mom and me stuff.” Montgomery waves her hand and sheepishly glances at India.

I don’t like her answer any more than I like the wary gaze she gives India.

“I’ll just . . .” India hitches her thumb toward my bedroom door. “Get dressed.”

The comment is a stark reminder she’s wearing my clothes, which suggests she spent the night. And as India lets herself into my bedroom, I longingly watch her retreat before glancing back at Montgomery.

With one hitched brow, Montgomery says, “India Baker. Really, Dad?”

“Really Dad, what?” What the hell? I’m allowed to date. I haven’t dated since?—

“She’s too cool for you, old man,” Montgomery teases, and I hate this trend of calling me ‘old man’.

I’m in my prime, like Isaiah said.

“Yes, she is, but she’s saying yes to me right now, and I’d like to keep it that way.” Something in my voice must tell my teenage child I’m serious.

“You really like her, don’t you?”

I gaze at the closed door and then look at Montgomery again. “Since I was in my twenties, I’ve been pining for that girl.” I chuckle when I think back to what Isaiah said about India’s inquiries about me and mine about her.

“What’s pining?”

Shaking my head, I step forward and wrap my arms around my daughter, pressing a kiss to the top of her hair.

“A feeling I hope you never understand.”

Because I never want her to long for someone who might never be hers.