Page 19 of Taking the Pitch (Love & Baseball #2)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

judd

“Millie is Amelia Morgan, huh?” Kessler’s voice booms from behind me.

Dad and I turn around from the workbench at the sound of his voice.

“Yep.”

“And you didn’t think to mention that at all when you were asking me or Lucy for advice?”

I shrug and turn back to the workbench. “Would it have changed your advice?”

He sidles up next to us, looking at the new project Dad is working on for the twins’ nursery. The one he’s going to surprise Lucy with after we learn the genders of the babies. “Wow, Dad. These look amazing. Lucy is going to love this.”

Dad carved two baseball diamonds out of slabs of wood off an old tree that fell on their property last year. There’s a space in the middle for their names once they’re picked.

“And to answer your question, no. It probably wouldn’t have made a difference. But why the secrecy?”

I turn and lean a hip against the workbench. “I’m not really sure. It was just something I wanted to keep to myself until I got to know her better.”

“And now that you have, you’ve decided to throw her straight into the fire?”

One side of my mouth quirks up. “Something tells me she can handle herself with Mom and Lucy. Plus, we’re just friends. No fire with friendship.”

“Mmm hmm. Let me know how that works for you.” He turns to Dad. “Wanna take bets on how long it is before they’re dating?”

Dad finishes putting his tools away and turns to me, gripping his chin like he’s contemplating something. “What’s the ante?”

The fuck?

“Dad, you’re betting on my love life? I thought you liked me more than that?” I say, acting offended.

Dad claps me on the shoulder. “Yeah, but Kessler’s giving me grandbabies. He’s in the top spot now,” he jokes.

Kessler tips his head back and forth in thought. “How about if you win, I will pay for your and Mom’s next trip?”

I groan, knowing Dad will definitely be taking that bet now.

“And if you win?”

“Babysitting for a month, whenever we need it.”

Dad holds out his hand to Kessler, and they shake. “I feel like that’s a win-win for me, son. I’ll take that bet.”

Dicks .

“So how long?” Kessler asks.

“A week.”

Kessler nods and looks back at me, tapping his chin. I flip him off, earning a laugh. “I’ll say four days. Something tells me little Juddy has game.”

“There’s nothing little about me,” I tell him, throwing my arm around his neck and getting him into a headlock. “I’m also taller than you, dick.”

“You may be taller, but I’m stronger, shithead.” His voice is muffled against my side. His arms tighten around my waist, and he tries to kick out one of my legs, but misses.

“Take it outside, boys. There’s too much you can break in here,” Dad says, opening the door. I let go of Kessler and move out to the yard. Just as I turn around, Kessler rushes me from behind, knocking me to the ground.

My back hits the ground and my breath whooshes out of me, stunning me and giving Kessler enough time to get me into a cradle hold, making it even harder for me to catch my breath.

I throw out my elbow in desperation to break the hold, but I don’t have enough leverage to make much of an impact. Kessler laughs and tightens his hold on me. “Is that all you’ve got, little brother?”

I’m about to throw another elbow when a growling sound behind us makes us both freeze.

“What the fuck is that?” Kessler says quietly, loosening his grip on me.

“Bruno! Here, boy! Where’d you go?” I hear Hudson call from the other side of the property.

I never pegged Bruno as an aggressive dog. “It’s Bruno. He must think you’re hurting me,” I tell Kessler. “Let go of me slowly.”

When I feel Kessler’s grip on me loosen, I roll to my knees and face Bruno. He’s about ten feet back and staring Kessler down, lips curled slightly in a snarl. Kessler sits up, extracting another growl from Bruno.

“Bruno, come here. It’s okay,” I tell him, patting my thigh. One of his ears flicks at the sound of my voice, but his eyes stay on Kessler.

“Bruno! There you are!” Hudson calls while coming out of the trees and jogging up to him.

“Hudson, careful, he might bite,” Kessler tells Hudson just as he reaches down to pat Bruno.

“It’s just Dad and Uncle Judd, Bruno,” he tells him, shaking the ball in his face and throwing it, distracting Bruno from Kessler.

Kessler sucks in a breath and watches Bruno and Hudson run off again like nothing happened. “Did he, did I hear that right? Did he just call me Dad?” He turns to me with a glassy look in his eyes.

I get to my feet and clap him on the shoulder, offering him my hand to pull him up. “Yeah man, he did. He asked me about it when we were at the field house the other day. I told him you would love nothing more.”

Kessler swipes at his eyes and clears his throat. “Shit, I thought Lucy was supposed to be the hormonal one.” He gives me a pointed look. “Don’t tell her about this.”

“Tell me about what?”

We whip around and see Lucy and Amelia standing at the open sliding door with matching amused looks on their faces.

“Nothing,” we say at the same time.

Lucy cocks an eyebrow at us. “Mmmhmm. So, what’s with the wet eyes, Kessler Davis,” she says motioning to his face.

“Allergies?”

“In November?”

Amelia stifles a laugh watching their exchange. She looks relaxed, leaning her head against the frame and peering out at the expanse of the property. Her eyes land on mine and her look is one I haven’t seen on her before. Like she’s seeing me differently.

Bruno’s barking and Hudson’s laughter breaks the moment as they come running back to the group. Dad comes out of the wood shop just as Mom reaches the space between Lucy and Amelia.

“Hope you guys are hungry because dinner is ready.”

Laughter and chatter fill the space as we file into the house. I’m the last one in, standing behind Amelia in line. “Did you get to talk to Lucy?’

She peeks at me over her shoulder, pulling one side of her lip into her mouth as she nods her head.

“Did she give you what you needed for your book?”

She nods again. “And I have her number in case I have any more questions.” She turns to me, the commotion of the room fading away. She places a hand on my chest, playing with the button of my flannel. When she looks up at me, my heart beats faster. “She definitely gave me something to think about.”

“Is that good or bad?”

She releases my shirt, and I instantly miss the small contact. Smiling up at me, she lifts a shoulder. “I don’t know yet, but I’ll tell you when I do.”

“I hope everyone saved some room because I have two new desserts to try,” Mom announces, setting two dishes in the center of the dining table. Groans and a hooray from Hudson sound around the table.

“Give me five more minutes and I’m sure I’ll be hungry again,” Lucy says, leaning back in her chair and rubbing her baby bump.

“I have room!” Hudson chimes in, practically drooling over the desserts in front of him.

Chuckles sound from around the table as mom cuts into the desserts. Placing the first plate in front of Hudson, who dives right in.

“So good, Grandma. What’s this one?” he asks around a mouthful of food.

“Hudson James, do not talk with your mouth full,” Lucy chides, trying to hold back a smirk.

Mom chuckles while setting a plate in front of Amelia, then me. “Thank you, Hudson. That one is no-bake cranberry cheesecake with a graham cracker and pretzel crust. And the other is caramel apple crumble.”

I watch as Amelia takes a bite of the crumble and closes her eyes, humming in delight. The sound goes straight to my dick. I watch as she puts another bite into her mouth, plush lips wrapping around the fork. I’ve never been so jealous of an inanimate object in my life, but here I am wishing my dick was a damn fork.

My hand reaches forward before my brain comprehends what it’s doing, and I use the pad of my thumb to wipe away a drop of caramel at the corner of her lips. She turns to look at me, eyes dilating as I stick my thumb in my mouth, sucking the caramel off it.

Something has shifted between us. I caught her sneaking glances at me all throughout dinner. Laying her arm on the table next to mine so it’s touching. Not enough to draw attention, but just enough to feel it. She even scooted her chair closer to me when she came back from the bathroom. I try to remind myself not to read into it, that it’s nothing. But my heart is telling me a whole lot of nothings put together is something.

A throat clears from across the table, pulling me out of another Amelia haze. When I look over, I see Kessler and Lucy looking at us with amused expressions.

“So, which one do we all like better?” Mom asks. If she noticed the interaction between Amelia and me, she’s doing a good job of not noticing, or at least not drawing attention to it.

“I like them both,” Hudson says, piling the last bite of crumble into his mouth.

Kessler snorts. “Shocker.”

“Honestly, Mom, they’re both really good. I don’t think I can choose,” Lucy says while nibbling at her desserts. Kessler nods in agreement.

“I have to agree with Lucy, hun. I can’t choose either,” Dad says, finishing off his plate.

“You all are no help.” She turns to Amelia and me. “What about you two? Are you going to help me narrow it down?”

I stretch and lay my arm across the back of Amelia’s chair. “Sorry Mom, but I can’t decide either. You’re just too good of a baker.”

“Flattery will usually get you somewhere, Juddson, but not when I need to narrow down what desserts to make for Thanksgiving.” She turns to Amelia. “You’re my last hope, dear.”

Amelia sits up. “Oh, I don’t think my opinion matters. I won’t even be here.”

“Your opinion matters, my dear. Whether you’re here or not. Which one would you make for your family?”

Amelia bites her bottom lip and looks down at her plate, eyes unfocusing. The corner of her mouth lifts a little. “My mom always loved homemade cranberry sauce. We always made an extra big batch and ate it on everything. Biscuits, pancakes, toast.” She huffs a small laugh and looks up at Mom. “Dad always said canned was best and, even though he knew he wouldn’t like it, would try our homemade stuff every year just to appease Mom. Mom wouldn’t get the canned stuff out until he tried it.”

Mom laughs. “They sound like lovely people. Will you be with them this year?”

Amelia’s smile falls, and she shakes her head. “No, they…” She pauses and clears her throat. “They passed away almost nine years ago.” She lifts a shoulder. “Just me and Bruno this year.”

Mom’s chair scrapes across the floor as she gets up and sits in the empty seat next to Amelia, placing a hand on hers. “I am so sorry.” Mom’s eyes flick to mine and back to Amelia’s. “I didn’t know.”

That makes two of us. I grab her other hand and give it a squeeze. She gives it a small squeeze back. I expect her to pull it away after, but she lets me keep my hand on hers.

Amelia shakes her head. “It’s okay. I don’t really talk about it much.”

“You are more than welcome to join us for Thanksgiving,” Mom tells her. “In fact, I insist.”

“Oh, no. I don’t want to intrude on your family’s day. I promise, I’ll be fine. I have a day of binge watching my favorite show and eating Chinese food planned.”

“Nonsense. We always have way too much food and it’s not just our family who eats with us.” Mom releases Amelia’s hand and motions to Kessler. “Kessler’s friends Reese and Garrett usually join us for dinner.”

“And this year my friend Kara, her son Kade, and her mom are joining us too,” Lucy chimes in.

Amelia gives Mom and Lucy a warm smile. “I really appreciate the offer. Can I think about it?”

Mom pats her hand again as she rises from her chair. “Of course, dear, take all the time you need. We’ll save you a seat either way.”

Amelia dips her head and whispers a thank you. I give her hand another squeeze and stand, helping Mom clear the dessert and dishes from the table.

I hear Lucy ask her a question as I dump the dishes in the sink and start rinsing them off.

“Do everything you can to make sure that girl doesn’t spend Thanksgiving alone, Judd. Even if it means staying in with her,” Mom says quietly while taking a Tupperware container out of the cabinet.

“I’ll do my best, Mom. I can’t force her to spend time with me.”

She pats my cheek. “Use that charm I know you have to win her over.”

A snort escapes me. “Trust me, Mom. My charm doesn’t work on her.”

Mom looks over my shoulder, then back up at me, giving me a wink. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that.”

I sneak a look over my shoulder to see Amelia watching me from the dining table. When she notices me looking back, she quickly looks away, focusing on something Lucy is saying.

Huh, would you look at that…