Loving Him Off the Field (Santa Fe Bobcats #2)(66)

“It might have,” he said, his heart breaking for the angry young woman she must have been. On the cusp of adulthood, when she’d needed guidance like never before, it had been ripped from her.

“I always knew I’d be a journalist like her, but print just wasn’t where my heart was.” She grinned up at him, eyes still a little shiny. “And I just found myself inexplicably drawn to hot athletes.” Climbing over him, she straddled his lap. “Can’t imagine why.”

He could. She’d taken the heart of her parents’ profession and twisted it to make it something she wouldn’t be competing with them on. So their memory would live on, untouched by her successes or failures. He rubbed up and down her back. “I want some trail mix.”

She blinked, clearly thrown by the change of subject. “Ooookay. Do you need to make a vending machine run?”

“Nope. I have some.” He rolled her off, then headed to grab the bag from his duffle. He tossed it to her and she read the label.

“There are M&Ms in here.” She looked up, excited. “This isn’t healthy.”

There was no point in mentioning his usual choice of trail mix didn’t contain chocolate. He’d bought it, subconsciously, hoping to share with her. “I’ll just pick those out.”

“And give them to me,” she said, handing the bag back. He opened it and snuck under the covers with her. Dumping a handful in his palm, he held it out and let her pick out the chocolates. “Thank you,” she said, and the words carried more meaning than just for the food.

He kissed the top of her head. “No problem. Now. Zombies, ghosts, or ax murderers?”

“Your pick.” She rifled through his next handful of mix for the chocolate. “Just make sure you aren’t holding this when the scary stuff gets going. Otherwise, it’s gonna get ugly when peanuts and raisins go flying.”

He kissed her again, hiding a smile in her hair a moment before making a selection.





Chapter Twenty




Killian walked up the steps of his apartment, keychain swinging around his finger, whistling. Life was good. Practice had been fantastic, the team had really rallied after that embarrassing show in Miami, and he was in his last week of his agreement with Aileen. After the interview was over and done with, he’d slowly start working his way toward telling her about Charlie . . . once he was one hundred percent positive it wouldn’t be a problem.

Not that Charlie was the problem. His son was never the problem. Emma, however . . .

As he stuck the key into the lock of his front door, he heard Mrs. Reynolds’ door open behind him. He sighed inwardly, plastered a smile on his face, and turned toward her.

And the smile froze as he saw Emma and Charlie standing on the threshold of Mrs. Reynolds’ door. Charlie clutched a Hulk action figure in his hand, and Emma held onto the handle of a rolling suitcase.

“Daddy!” Charlie squealed, then bolted at him. Killian barely managed to bend down in time to catch him. Hauling his son up on his hip—dang, the kid was getting huge—he gave him a massive hug, then looked him over once for injuries. “Hey, bud. You okay? What’s wrong? Anything hurt?”

Charlie giggled as Killian’s hand passed over his side. “That tickles, Daddy. No hurts.”

No hurts. He hugged Charlie again, pressing a kiss to his clean, baby powder–scented hair that was identical to his own. Then he glanced at Emma over their son’s head. “What the hell?” he mouthed.

She smiled grimly and stepped aside for Mrs. Reynolds.

“I caught these two hovering around your door about an hour ago. And I said to myself, there’s a young man who needs a cookie.” She gazed softly at Charlie, who giggled again and held up two fingers. “Or maybe two.”

“Uh-huh. Well, thank you, Mrs. Reynolds.” He swung the door open wide and gestured for Emma to walk in ahead of him. “I appreciate you entertaining them. Must have gotten my times mixed up.”

“Anytime I can have a wonderful little boy over for some lively entertainment is a good day,” she said, patting her hair. Not that any of it was out of place, with as much hairspray as she likely used on it. Then, with a sharp look that told Killian she’d caught on to the situation, she added, “He’s a good boy, that one. A good egg. I’m sure his parents are very lucky to have him.”

Killian nodded, his throat closing up tight. Then he walked in and shut the door. “Hey, bud, wanna watch a movie?”

“Yeah!” Charlie ran for the couch and jumped on it, bouncing once before settling. His bright red shirt with Iron Man’s mask stood out so much against the light brown couch. Beaming, his son slapped his knees and said, “Which one?”

“How about we try in here?” Killian went to the second door, took out his keys and unlocked it. Opening it wide, he grinned as Charlie gave a loud squeal of joy and ran in.

The second bedroom consisted of a twin-size bed with navy blue comforter, a simple dresser he’d bought at Target and assembled himself, and some posters of comic book characters and heroes he knew Charlie loved. The small TV and Xbox console that sat on the dresser, along with an assortment of DVDs and age-appropriate games were what really caught his attention.

The dresser and closet, Killian knew, also contained just a few sets of clothes, and an extra set of bedsheets.