Page 4

Xavier

How the hell did I manage to make a complete ass of myself in front of Vivienne Cardoza again? Every time I see her something goes wrong, or my brain short-circuits and all my blood rushes to the wrong place.

At this point, there's no way Vivienne doesn't hate me, and I don't blame her.

She might be wrong about me, but she's right about one thing: she saved my ass. Only now, I'm drowning in the mess Braxton left behind, scrambling to find a new nanny and figure out how to repay Vivienne.

I want to knock him on his ass for what went down with Carly, but I can't take any more heat for my own problems today.

Vivi rolls her lips, watching me for a beat like she wants to say more, before turning sharply toward the dugout. She leans against the far side of the railing, studying the guys like she's bored, but I catch the curl of a manicured finger as she zeros in on Braxton. "Over here, rookie."

"Me?" He smirks, hopping off the bench. "I'm no rookie, but I reckon you can call me whatever you want."

"Huh, the way you act, I'd never have guessed you had much experience with being a teammate. Either way, you're free to go." Braxton laughs like it's a joke, but Vivi stands there, shoulders pulled back, eyeing her nails, barely sparing him a glance. "Think I'm funny, Hayes? You're the last person I want around my kids. From what I've seen, you're a shit teammate and a poor excuse for a human. That's not behavior we want to model at Double Play." She finally looks up at him, her gaze frigid. "If you're not going to listen to me, you can explain to your captain why Xavier's nanny left him high and dry."

A chill races up my spine. Vivi is bold, unyielding, and tough as nails.

And she might hate Braxton more than me.

My scorned teammate's mouth hangs open a moment too long, looking as dumbfounded as I felt when Vivi put me in my place last year. He recovers with a huff of laughter. "Fine by me."

He takes the dugout steps, disappearing into the tunnel below.

When he's gone, Vivi turns back to me. "Being pissed at him doesn't mean I've forgotten about you. Are you sure you're in the right headspace for this today? These kids need someone reliable and stable."

Forget what I said. She still hates me. Her words settle deep in the pit of my stomach, joining the weight of everything else.

"I've got it." It's not a claim I'm confident enough to make. I'm no better than a pile of hot trash at the moment, failing at nearly everything because I'm stretched so thin that I can't do any single thing well.

For fuck's sake, I forgot to pack diapers yesterday when I took Holland for a walk.

And that's nothing compared to the fact that, somehow, my nanny and teammate were fucking around after only a week on the job and I had no clue.

Dean strolls back, Holland fast asleep in his arms, and passes her off seamlessly. He makes it seem so easy, yet every time I try to set her down, she's wide awake the second I think about moving. I'd give anything to be half as good at this as he is.

"How'd you do that?" I ask, trying to sound casual.

"I got lucky is all." He pats my back, his pity making me flinch.

I might not have the hang of this dad thing, but I'm not suffering, not in the traditional sense. Having Holland is the furthest thing from misfortune. Pity has no place in my life.

I stand off to the side, useless as my teammates and Vivi go over the plan for the day. Doubt creeps in while they set up the stations. Someone else taking my spot would have been better for these kids, for Holland, for Vivi.

The longer I stand there, the worse it gets. My annoyance builds with every passing minute, until I realize I'm pacing, my teeth grinding together, jaw aching, and head throbbing. A whimper from Holland snaps me out of it.

My tension doesn't only affect me anymore, so I take three deep breaths, forcing my shoulders down. When I look up, there's a girl with dark hair and green eyes--not unlike Vivi's--bouncing over from where Vivi stands. She can't be more than nineteen, barely old enough to take care of herself.

"I'm Tenley, Vivi's niece, and you look like you could use help." She extends her hands expectantly.

"Are you infant CPR certified?"

"Sure am. I'm in nursing school. Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere. We'll take a quick walk behind the net, away from the flying balls and bats, and find a seat." She points to the safety of the area behind the dugout. "Promise."

I glance around, as if another option will magically appear--an experienced older woman with a whipped cream mask, perhaps. But all I see is Vivi tapping her foot, gaze narrowing in on me.

Right.

"Here's her bag. I'll be over there." I point to the station behind home plate. Grabbing the diaper bag, I lead Tenley to the seats. "Sit."

"You know I've carried a baby before, right?"

"I don't particularly care." My nerves are frayed and I'm being an ass, but all my control has been stripped away. "Look, I'm sure you're fine."

" Fine ," she scoffs. "Okay. I get the new dad stress, I've watched my uncles go through the same thing. The whole protective, scared thing? On brand. I sympathize. But here's the deal, you either trust that I can handle your baby for a couple hours--maybe feed her, change her--or you deal with her ."

She rises on her tiptoes, glancing over my shoulder. I don't need to turn around. I can feel Vivi's eyes burning into me. Tenley's grimace when she drops back down to the concrete confirms it. She's my only option.

"Oof . . . That vein on her temple is pulsing. That's when you know you're in trouble. Quick, hand me the baby for safekeeping because she's seconds from kicking your ass. You don't mess with her kids."

Tenley lips curve into a sugary sweet grin and she plops into the seat, arms extended, lashes fluttering up at me.

"Don't make me regret this," I threaten before folding like a cheap card table.

"You made the right choice. She'll be fine with me. You, I'm still a tad nervous for." Her thumb and pointer finger pinch together displaying a sliver of space between them as she smirks more brazenly now.

I sound as tired as I am when I say, "She's right behind me, isn't she?"

"Yep." Tenley pops the P dramatically.

"Is there a problem over here?" Vivi's emerald gaze rakes over me, heavy on the annoyance.

"Nope."

At the same time, her niece mutters, "Meh," with an indifferent shrug of her shoulder. The apple certainly didn't fall far from that tree. Both of the Cardoza women seem to enjoy putting me in my place.

"Then get your gear on and get out there." Vivi points to my station.

"It's in the locker room. I'll be right out."

She can't be more than five-foot-three, maybe five-four on a good day, but when she throws her hands in the air and pushes her finger into my chest, she towers over all six feet four inches of me. I've never been more terrified of someone so short in my entire life.

"Strike three is so damn close."

"Wh--"

Her fingers fly across her lips in a zipper motion. I shut up on instinct alone.

"You have two minutes. Grab your gear and come back out ready to coach. This stadium might be your house, but these are my kids, and for the next two hours, I'm your landlord. I know you have your own things going on, but I need your focus until we load the buses back up. Last chance to back out."

"I'm staying. Just give me a minute."

"Good." She smiles, and holy shit, I think it's real. "The kids are done with their tour and heading down the tunnel."

A curtain of espresso-colored hair swishes around her shoulders when she spins on her wedge heels and marches back down the stairs to the field.

Taking her lecture to heart, I break into a run, casting a backward glance to ensure Holland is settled. I duck through the dugout and head for the locker room. Once I'm beneath the stadium, I let out a ragged breath. Giving myself a second to breathe before I change, I make it my mission to get through the rest of the day without disappointing anyone else.

My daughter is at the top of that list, followed closely by Vivienne Cardoza, her kids from Double Play, and my teammates.

How a spitfire of a woman I barely know managed to wrangle her way onto that list is something I'm too exhausted to give any further thought to today. Seems like a problem for future Xavier, in eight to ten months, when I'm getting more than two hours of sleep at a time. Then I'll be rested enough to sort through why I care what Vivi thinks of me.