Stealing Home(67)

It was priceless.





“YOU KNOW WHAT seeing you in my jersey does to me,” Luke greeted as he kicked the front door closed, his arms loaded with grocery bags.

“I’m also in cutoffs and sneakers.” I fought a smile as I washed tomatoes for the burgers we were grilling tonight.

“So? All I see is my name on your back and it does things to me . . .” Dropping the bags on the counter, he swung around the island until he was behind me. His arms wound around my waist, his body pressing into mine—a certain part of it pressing into my backside. “And depending on your mood, it does very good or very bad things to me.”

The tomato dropped into the sink, my hand melting beneath his touch. I tried to fight it—the feeling of being utterly and totally under his spell—but I failed every time. Luke and I had been together for a while now, and after all of this time, he still touched me like it was our first and kissed me good night like it was our very last.

“This jersey that’s got you so worked up also has spit-up on it from earlier.” I tipped my head back to look up at him, tying my fingers through his hands. “Still all hot and bothered?”

His head nuzzled mine, his hips pinning me to the counter. “You have no idea how much of a turn on spit-up can be on the woman who gave me the most beautiful baby in the whole damn world.”

As I laughed, I checked the clock on the wall. The same wall Luke had hung the framed cover of the two of us on Sports Anonymous—thankfully, I’d talked him out of hanging it on every wall in the house. We had ten minutes until people were supposed to start arriving. I might have preferred a bigger window to enjoy my husband’s body, but I knew from experience we could make ten minutes work.

“If you can make it quick, you’re on.”

I hadn’t finished my sentence before he had me spun around, his fingers already working on my cutoffs. “You don’t steal home without being quick, Mrs. Archer. I think I can manage.”

My hand had his shirt just about over his head when we heard it. Luke and I shared a groan.

“Built-in radar, that one,” I said, pulling his shirt back over his head before heading toward the nursery.

“I’ve got her.” Luke grabbed my hand before I could get far. He dropped a kiss on my forehead before jogging down the hall.

“If you think she’s got you in the palm of that tiny hand of hers now, just you wait, Luke Archer,” I hollered down the hall after him.

He chuckled as he disappeared in the room across from ours. “In her palm, in your heart, I’m a happy man.”

The baby monitor was propped on the counter in front of me, but I didn’t turn it off. I kept it on because I loved witnessing these private moments between Luke and our daughter.

“Afternoon, sunshine. Did you have a nice nap?” Luke came into view as he leaned over the crib, which made Lily’s little legs start kicking like crazy, her face lighting up from seeing her daddy. “Let’s get you up and ready for the party. And holy . . .” Luke said as he picked up Lily. “For something so sweet, you stink something fierce.”

They went out of view, but I could still hear them moving around the room.

“Wait. Maybe I’m not supposed to say that you stink. You know, in case you remember it in some strange memory one day, and it gives you a complex that your dad said you stunk.” The sound of diaper tape being ripped open was followed by a grunt from Luke. “Holy . . .” His voice was muffled from probably plugging his nose. “You are one sweet, sweet baby, Miss Lily Archer.” The muffled voice thing was gone, probably because he was worried the image of him pinching his nose while he changed his six-month-old baby’s diaper would give her some kind of a permanent mental scar.

After that, a couple of made-up songs about baseball, sung to the tune of “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star,” were accompanied by Lily’s coo-giggle while they finished up. I got back to cleaning the last couple of tomatoes, not able to help the happiness that flooded my system.

I thought my dreams had come true the day I’d been hired on by the Shock—I never hoped to imagine there could be anything better than landing my dream job. But there had been. There’d been lots of so much better things. Like meeting Luke. Falling in love with him. Slaying a legion of demons on my journey toward doing so. Getting engaged. Being married. Having a baby.

Just when I was sure it couldn’t get any better, life did. It still came with its challenges—as was life’s nature—but navigating them with the person I loved made them feel smaller somehow, not so impossible to conquer. Our schedules were still exhausting, and having a baby going into spring training would make them that much more. But it was worth it. Anything would have been worth being with them.

Luke and Lily were dancing down the hall while Luke hummed a classic waltz melody—“Take Me Out to the Ball Game”—when the doorbell rang.

“Party face time.” Luke gave Lily a serious face as they detoured toward the door.

Lily gave him a serious face back. That lasted for all of half a second before she was grinning and flapping her chubby little arms.

“Nice party face, kiddo. That’s my girl.”

Grabbing a towel to dry my hands, I moved toward the front door with them. I knew who it was before I’d made it around the corner to see who had shown up first—from the sound of Lily’s shrieks alone.