Stealing Home(35)

“Afraid he’s going to yell at you?” The noise was so loud in the stadium, I had to put my mouth right outside his ear for him to hear me.

Archer’s jaw set a little more. “I don’t care if he yells at me—I’m used to it. I don’t like the idea of him yelling at you though.”

I huffed, matching his every step off the field with one of my own. “I can take it.”

“I can’t.”

If he thought Coach would have something to yell at me over, that meant he’d hurt his leg. Again. For all I knew, he’d pulled it all over again.

“Don’t,” he said under his breath when I moved to support some of his weight again.

“Dammit, Luke, this is my job.”

“Exactly, and I want to make sure you still have one tomorrow.” He tipped his chin just enough as we moved toward Coach. He was watching us now.

“How bad is it?”

“Not bad.” When I started to exhale, he added, “Really.”

“Is that why I can see beads of sweat forming on your forehead?”

The faintest of smiles crept into place. “I just finished playing nine innings. Sweat usually comes with the game.”

“Are those nine innings the same reason you look ready to crack a few molars from the way you’re grinding your jaw?”

Coach was still watching us, his brow furrowed just enough to give away that he suspected something was up. Picking up on the same, Luke’s strides became stronger, his gait less uneven.

“How bad? Really?” I asked.

“Not bad. Just a little mad.”

I guessed he was lying or at least under-exaggerating. I guessed that had he been anyone else, he would have been curled up in a ball on the ground, crying for a painkiller that would knock out a Thoroughbred.

That was when his gaze wandered to the stands, centering on one of the front rows, where three girls were flailing their arms like they were trying to hail a cab in New York during rush hour. If he hadn’t told me he had three little sisters, I would have figured it out from one look at them. They were all mini girl versions of Luke: light brown hair, big expressive eyes, and the same wide smiles.

“Fan club?” I asked when he returned the arm flailing motion.

“The feeling’s mutual.”

His sisters were winding their way to the fence, waving him over, totally decked out with Shock gear from foam fingers to shoelaces.

“Why don’t you go say hi, and I’ll get your ice bath ready?”

Luke groaned, but it wasn’t very convincing with the smile on his face. “You want to come meet them?”

My feet stopped moving. He paused when he noticed me stopped at the edge of the field. Since I still didn’t know how to define whatever we were, family introductions had been way off my radar. Introducing a person to one’s family meant things were serious enough to bring that person into your inner circle. Was that how Luke felt about us? Or was he just being polite?

How did I feel about us?

“I think they want to see their brother right now,” I said. “Not one of the team’s athletic trainers.”

Luke’s shoulder lifted. “They’d definitely be interested in meeting the woman I’m seeing.”

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?’

His eyes locked on mine. “Sometimes the only way to know if you’re ready is to take the leap.”





“I’M SORRY I put you on the spot like that,” Luke said from the second-row seat of his SUV while I sat in the driver’s seat, feeling like I was driving a tank down the interstate.

“You didn’t put me on the spot. There was just a lot coming at me at that particular moment in time.”

“Like me suggesting I introduce you to my sisters.”

I sagged in relief when he pointed at the upcoming exit sign. In addition to feeling like a bus in comparison to my small sedan, Luke’s SUV wasn’t a smooth ride. My body would probably still be vibrating tomorrow morning. “Like me realizing I made a bad call letting you play tonight.”

“You didn’t make a bad call.”

As he said it, I heard him adjust the bag of ice I’d forced him to keep on his leg. I’d also insisted he keep it elevated for the next twenty-four hours, which was why I was in my current condition—barreling a tank off the interstate while Luke Archer sat behind me with a reinjured groin muscle.

“Is that why you didn’t want to say anything to Coach about it?” I asked.

Our eyes connected in the rear view mirror.

“I didn’t want to say anything to him because there was nothing to report.”

“And that’s the reason you have a bag of ice on your crotch and are laid out in the backseat, right?”

He leaned forward, bracing his hands between the passenger and driver’s seats. He smelled fresh from the shower, his still-wet hair curling around the rim of his ball cap.

Getting distracted by the way Luke smelled was not a great idea if I placed a priority on getting him to a destination safe and in one piece.

“No, you are the reason I have a bag of frozen water on my crotch.” His fingers curled into my headrest caressed my cheek. “I’d much rather have something else between them right now.”