Page 3

Vivienne

There's no way . . .

I stop in my tracks, blinking. I've never hallucinated before, but there's a first time for everything. Either the man in front of me is a figment of my imagination, or Xavier Kingsley is a hot mess. Neither makes sense. The Bandits' catcher is always composed, polished, and maddeningly perfect.

Even in the unwelcome cameos he makes in my subconscious, he's infuriatingly sexy and unflappable. It's the one redeeming thing about him.

If he's going to drive me insane with his cocky arrogance, at least he does it while looking like a sex god.

But it's definitely him. Those broad shoulders and that unruly red hair are unmistakable. Nobody else fills out their baseball uniform quite like number seven. It's tragically unfair for him to have all that and mesmerizing blue eyes, a sharp jawline, and freckles that manage to be both rugged and charming at the same time.

Since he waltzed into my life a year ago, acting like an arrogant prick, he's been everywhere--billboards, interviews, and--unfortunately--back at my camp, again.

The universe is mocking me. Throwing the presumptuous baseball player that I'd love to fuck in my face.

Wait, what?

Forget. I definitely meant forget .

Especially considering the first time we met, he wrongly assumed I was some star-struck fan wanting to bask in his greatness. Little did he know, being pushed around and outnumbered by my brothers prepared me to put men like him in their place.

He straightened up fast when I told him I was the Director of Operations at Double Play, the organization running this camp for youth from under-resourced backgrounds.

But first impressions stick, and his was as damning as it gets.

Today, though, his cocksure attitude is pointedly missing, replaced with messy red waves that look sloppy in a way the man I met would never allow, and the gray shirt he's wearing is wrinkled, as if it came straight out of the hamper after barely passing a smell test.

When he turns to face me, any thought that I might be imagining things evaporates. It's him, but it's no longer the disheveled appearance that has my mouth hanging open.

It's the infant in his arms.

Who's baby is that, and why did he bring her to the stadium when he's supposed to be volunteering?

I scan the area, waiting for someone to step forward and claim the baby, but then I notice the dark circles under Xavier's eyes, and everything clicks. The wrinkled shirt, the shoes, the haggard appearance, it's all a dead giveaway. No one's coming for that baby.

I've seen that look on all of my older brothers as new dads. Leo, who's twenty years older than me, was a walking zombie when his wife had my niece Tenley. She might be in college now and living under my roof, but I'll never forget how she shifted my brother's life. He went from wild and invincible to a barely functioning, lovesick dad overnight.

Xavier's dull blue gaze sweeps the arena, almost helpless, before they land on me. The pitiful look in them knocks the wind out of me. He quickly drops his gaze to the baby, brushing a kiss on the fluff of red hair sticking up from her teal headband.

I shake off the distraction, turning toward the dugout where the other players are gathered, all ready to start. Well, everyone but the man with the baby, who looks like a lost child himself.

"What's the plan for today?" Dean Harrison, the Bandit's first baseman and a Double Play board member, asks when I reach the dugout railing.

"The bus should be here any minute. The kids will start with a tour before they come out onto the field for the camp," I explain.

Dean nods, adding, "We have five stations for them to rotate through. Cruz, Dom, Hendrix, Xavier, and I will each lead a group. The rest of the guys will float around and help as needed."

"Are you sure about that? Your catcher seems a little preoccupied at the moment."

Dean scratches his jaw, his focus falling on his teammate, who's still standing around like he's waiting for something.

"Are you going to deal with that, or am I?" I ask, leveling Dean with a glare I honed from years of solving everyone else's problems.

His attention shifts from me, back to the train wreck standing behind me. "He's been through a hell of a lot in the last two months. Cut him a little slack."

"That's fresh, you telling me to be nice. He's supposed to be coaching my kids, that's hard to do with a baby in his arms. I'm sorry he's going through it, but I have dozens of kids on that bus who've been looking forward to this for months."

My job is to be concerned about them first.

I've been taking care of other people since I was old enough to make mac and cheese. But babysitting grown men with kids of their own? That's where I draw the line.

Dean blows out an exasperated breath. "I'll see what's going on. His nanny was here to help earlier."

He jogs over to his teammate and I watch as they start talking, Dean patient and Xavier agitated, running a hand through his messy red hair. I should give them privacy, but my curiosity keeps me rooted in place. His lips press into a thin line as he shakes his head at whatever Dean says. Honestly, I feel bad. I'm still not sure what his deal is, but he's obviously stressed.

When he shifts the baby in his arms, his sleeves pull tight as he bounces on his feet. I'm impressed she's still asleep with how tense he is. Not even his movements can ease the tension in his jaw as his gaze darts around the stadium, searching for something--or someone--that isn't there.

But we need to get started, and if I can't rely on him, I'll have to bring someone else up to speed. I push off the wall and walk toward the two men, stopping next to Dean so we can figure it out.

"Can someone fill me in on what's going on?" Against my better judgment, my eyes trail over Xavier. There's a vulnerable look on his face I never expected to see him wear. His eyes wrinkle in the corner and he looks from his teammate to me.

"My um . . ." He makes one more slow sweep of the field. "My nanny disappeared."

I pinch the bridge of my nose. "Did she go to the bathroom or something? Nannies don't just vanish."

His jaw ticks and I can't tell if he's annoyed with me or the situation. "I don't know. She was here and now she's gone. That's the definition of disappearing."

"Is she coming back?" I look around, half expecting a woman to appear out of thin air.

"I have no fu--" His mouth slams shut and his eyes squeeze closed. His shoulders rise with his deep intake of breath and his lips move as he silently counts to three. "I couldn't tell you."

"Where'd the hot nanny go?" Braxton Hayes, the Bandits' resident troublemaker, shouts from the dugout, a shit-eating grin on his face.

Xavier whips around to face him, clearly pissed.

"We're going to take a walk while you figure this out," Dean says, lifting the baby from Xavier's arms without waiting for permission.

"What the hell do you know about it, Hayes?" Xavier snaps, once his daughter is out of earshot.

"I know all about Carly. She's fun. You take her for a spin yet, old man?"

My stomach churns at the way Braxton talks about a woman I don't even know.

Xavier steps forward, bumping against my arm as he does. "You've gotta be kidding me. What the hell did you do to her?"

"Nothing she didn't ask me to. In fact, she wanted more . . ." He clicks his tongue. "But I don't do repeats, which I told her when she cornered me outside the locker room earlier."

Xavier lunges forward and my hand shoots out before I can stop it, my fingers clasping around his wrist to stop him. "Don't. He's not worth it."

"Shit," he growls from somewhere deep in his chest, pressing the heel of his other hand into his eye.

This is a mess. The last thing I need is the kids witnessing a fight between two players they idolize. I spring into action, dropping my hand from Xavier's arm to grab my phone. "Hey, Tenley," I say when my niece answers on the first ring. "Are you busy?" After Braxton's stunt, I don't want him near my kids. I'll take Xavier and his terrible choice in nannies over that asshole.

"Can you come to the Bandit's stadium? I need help with an event today . . . Thanks, I owe you." I hang up and turn to Xavier, who's still as shell-shocked as he was when he realized no one was there to watch his daughter.

"No more drama today," I say firmly. "I know it's not your fault, but I have to consider what's best for my campers."

I stand my ground, trying to be firm, but then he looks at me wearing that lost expression, and tiny cracks form in my resolve.

As quick as I notice the fracture, I reinforce the walls I've built to protect myself. His problems aren't mine to fix--I've done that my whole life. And now that I'm finally living on my terms--away from my family's vineyard and embracing the freedom I love, I refuse to get sucked back into being a people pleaser.

"I hear you." His shoulders slump. He looks so contrite, so utterly defeated. It's heartbreaking, but it's not my problem.

Straightening my spine, I stand tall. "Glad we're on the same page. My niece will be here in twenty minutes to help. She's great with kids," I add, though she had little choice. When I left for college she stepped in to help with younger siblings and cousins, just like I had before her.

"I know I'm not in a position to make demands, but she stays here with Holland. I'm sure she's capable, but I don't know you or your niece well enough to let her walk away with the most important thing in my world."

Some of the cockiness I remember bubbles to the surface as he asserts himself. Damn it, why does my pulse quicken seeing him advocate for his daughter like that? I shove the unwanted attraction down.

"You're not in a position to negotiate. Either take the help I'm offering, or I'll find another volunteer. But if it makes you feel better, Holland and Tenley aren't going anywhere. She'll stay here with her while we run the camp, if that works for you."

"Yeah. That's fine." A weak cry comes from Dean's arms, where he's pacing the baseline with Holland. Xavier tracks his teammate as he adjusts his daughter. "And, uh, thanks for the help. I . . . um . . . owe you." Xavier's voice is distracted.

"You do. But I doubt you have anything I'm interested in," I call back.