The Lineup(54)

“He has no idea you told the Carltons that you two had been in a relationship for four years?” he huffed.

I shrugged, something I never did, especially with my father. He then rolled his eyes and said, “My middle name is cool.”

Somehow, I don’t believe that.

We round the corner to my parking spot where a black SUV is parked. From our approach, Jason hops out of the car wearing a pair of jeans and one of the stupid flannel shirts he sent me a picture of. This one is forest green and black and despite hating everything about it, it fits him like a glove. Sleeves rolled up to his elbows, brawny chest filling out the top . . . he’s totally got the sexy mountain man look going on, and I approve, especially the scruff he didn’t seem to shave off.

Like the respectable man that he is, he lifts his hand in a wave when he sees both me and my dad and walks over, lending it out for a greeting.

My dad takes it and gives Jason a good shake. “From the same blue eyes you two share, I’m going to assume this is your dad, sweet cheeks.” He winks at me then turns back to my dad. “Jason Orson. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Domico.”

A small twitch forms at my dad’s lips, and I know he’s just about dying inside right now.

Let me let you in on a little secret. I think Jason is the first man to ever come up and confidently shake my dad’s hand. My dad can be a very intimidating man and has been to any past boy or man who has met him—there aren’t many. They cowered, they never stood tall, and they were a big no on my dad’s end.

But from the twitch at the corner of my dad’s mouth alone, I know he already appreciates Jason and his strength of character.

“Jason, it’s a pleasure.” Instead of being in awe or “fangirling” over one of the best catchers in the country, my dad acts normal and doesn’t even mention the fact that Jason is a major league baseball player. “Going up north with my daughter?”

“Yes, sir.” Jason sticks his hands in his back pockets and all I can focus on is the way his pecs press against the soft fabric of his shirt. “A-plus driver here in case you were wondering. No tickets, I enjoy a comfortable position of ten and two on the steering wheel, and I already established the rule in the car that it’s my playlist we’re listening to so there’s no fighting over music. Also, since it’s my off season, I took a siesta earlier today so I was fresh and alive for the drive tonight. I packed snacks, the tank is full, and there is water in reusable water bottles in the center console for each of us. Oh, and gum, in case I need something to chew if this one falls asleep.” He thumbs toward me. “I know how to use my fists if a bear comes near us, but I’m also not an idiot and know if it’s brown, hit the ground, if it’s black, fight that bastard back.” Oh my God, why is he so adorable? “I plan on teaching your daughter how to cook a proper meal this weekend, something she can make for you and your wife when you’re in town.”

“Now this I like.” My dad chuckles. Chuckles. At Jason. I think I’m in an alternate universe.

“I saw this great place that serves apparently the best pancakes in Illinois, so Sunday morning, I’d like to go there. I’d also like to hike, and when it comes to the sleeping arrangements, I was informed there are two bedrooms, and I plan on using one of them alone. No worries there.”

Oh, I’m worried . . . that he plans on using the other one.

“Well, looks like you’ve covered everything. This is a solid gentleman, Dottie.”

I know. I really know.

“Are you good? Am I allowed to leave now?”

“I don’t know.” My dad scratches the side of his jaw. “Just from how charismatic this man is and his plans, I’m thinking I should take your place instead.”

“I’m up for a bro weekend,” Jason says, his banter and decorum so easy. No wonder he’s loved so much. “Then I wouldn’t have to see the deep eye-roll your daughter gives me on a constant basis.”

My dad leans in and says, “She gets that from me, but I will say this, I can’t possibly see myself eye-rolling with you. Do you have extra clothes packed for me?”

“Do you mind sharing underwear with another man? Because I’m game.”

My dad’s head falls back as he laughs. “I’ve never rubbed another man’s underwear on my junk, but never say never.”

“Ohhh-kay, you two are done.” I reach up and press a kiss to my dad’s cheek. “We are leaving.” I take Jason by the arm and direct him back to the car. From over his shoulder, he mouths to my dad to call him, which my dad replies with a thumbs up.

Ridiculous. Hilarious.

When we’re saddled up in the car, I let out a long breath and shift my head to the side so I can look at him. Sincerely I say, “Sorry about that.”

With the biggest smile on his face, his hand lands on my thigh. He gives it a good squeeze and says, “Don’t apologize, that was fucking awesome.”





The two-hour drive to the house was . . . fun.

Oh my God, was it fun.

I tried to hold back, but there were times that Jason had me laughing hard, and every time he heard my laugh, it was like he was spurred to make me laugh even harder. We played stupid car games that he packed, like car Bingo, which was difficult to play since it was dark—a miss on his end that he admitted it—we played would you rather, the alphabet game again, and even jammed out to some old school songs from the sixties. He found the playlist on Spotify and it was called Dancing Songs for Toddlers. I was skeptical at first, but surprisingly, I was the one begging for more. They were perfect songs for him to sing to. And he sang, boy, did he sing. Terribly.