I can’t help but laugh at him from across the room, but then my doctor’s thumb digs into my rotator cuff and wipes my smile right off my face.
“Is this part of my reward for having a good game?” Isaiah asks Kennedy as he strips down to nothing, his cup clattering to the floor. “Just how much are we talking here with this rub down?”
“Jesus, Rhodes.” Kennedy turns away from him as quickly as possible, covering her eyes. “Leave your goddamn compression shorts on. This isn’t that kind of massage.” She peeks over to me. “Ace, what the hell is wrong with your brother?”
“I wish I knew, Ken.”
Isaiah uses both hands to quickly cover his dick while standing bare-ass naked next to Kennedy’s training table. “Well, you said to strip down and I got excited.”
I motion to what he’s covering. “Clearly.”
The entire room falls into a fit of laughter. Isaiah pulls his shorts back on and hops onto the table with his stomach down and his calves exposed.
“I just thought,” he continues. “Finally, my Kenny is going to realize I’m the guy for her. After all these years and all this tension, it only took a two-run homer for her to open her eyes.”
Kennedy’s voice has no inflection. “There’s no tension.”
Isaiah smirks, looking over his shoulder at her. “Baby, there’s tension. You could cut it with a knife. You’ll see one day, Kenny. You’re gonna want a real man, and I’m a real man.”
Kennedy’s elbow digs into Isaiah’s right calf.
“Oh, holy fuck!” he screams, biting into the padded table to muffle the sound. He lets out a strangled whimper, his voice cracking. “Kenny! Kenny!”
“That’s it, baby. Let it out like a real man.”
The entire room is in hysterics as my egotistical brother melts into the table, squirming to get away from her. “You like hurting me?” he asks, sitting up and getting out of her reach. “Little do you know I like pain. Some might even call me a masochist in the bedroom.”
Kennedy is trying her hardest to hold back her smile. They’ve worked together for three years and my brother has tried his best to get her in his bed. It hasn’t worked. Though, the girl used to have a diamond on her left ring finger, and this season she doesn’t, so who knows, maybe that’s reignited his determination.
“If you like pain so much, get back on this table.” She pats the cushion.
“Kenny, you’ve had a long day. I’m good. I don’t want you working too hard.”
She laughs, shaking her head and walking away. “Wimp.”
My doctor continues to stretch out my throwing arm as I speak to my brother. “You’re going to drive her to quit one day.”
“Nah,” Isaiah says, his voice growing louder as he walks to my table, looking down at me. “She’s in love with me. She has absolutely no idea, but she is. And clearly, I’m in love with her.”
“Clearly. Since you flaunt a new girl in your bed every night while staying in the same hotels as her.”
Isaiah pops his shoulders. “We have an understanding.”
I chuckle.
“I’m surprised you stayed for PT. I figured you’d be rushing home to get Max away from the hot nanny.”
“Yeah, well, I’m trying to work on loosening the reins per Miller’s request.”
“We’re taking requests from Miller now? Interesting.”
“She’s not so bad, I guess.”
Isaiah’s brows shoot up, a mischievous smirk on his lips. “She’s not so bad, huh? Who are you and where’s my overbearing big brother?”
I use my free hand to flip him my middle finger.
“You know, I was thinking, maybe I should come over tonight. Make sure Miller is okay. If she doesn’t like your house, she can stay at mine.”
Kennedy walks by, shaking her head.
“As a friend,” Isaiah quickly adds for her to hear. “As a friend, Kenny!”
“You’re an idiot and she’s not staying at my house.”
“But Max’s nannies have always lived in your house.”
“And Max’s other nannies didn’t have a dad they could crash with who lives thirty minutes away.”
They also didn’t look like Miller, talk like Miller, or have me wanting to flirt back with them every time they open their damn mouth. Additionally, they didn’t have my throwing hand putting in extra work while in the shower because flashes of her thick thighs and green eyes won’t leave my fucking daydreams.
Chapter 10
Miller
My body jumps as the front door unlocks, the whisk in my hand clattering around the metal bowl when I drop it.
I lost track of time. Apparently, I’ve been in the kitchen for hours, ever since I put Max to bed, but the time flew as I got lost somewhere between the butter, sugar, and flour. Kai’s kitchen is a disaster. I fully intended to clean up by the time he got home, but that sure as shit won’t be happening now. I watch on the monitor as he checks on his sleeping son before leaving the bedroom, headed straight for me.
I wonder how pissed he’s going to be. I bet he’ll get all red in the face, furrowed brows with wide icy eyes. Flustered Kai is my favorite, and I seem to do a wonderful job of pulling that side out of him.
But I’d enjoy this moment a whole lot more if I wasn’t so flustered myself.
Nothing is working. I’ve attempted four new recipes tonight and they’ve all been hopeless disasters. The groceries I had delivered? They’re gone, besides the ones I purchased to stock Kai’s lacking pantry and fridge. Not even a stunning, state-of-the-art kitchen can bring out my creativity. My last hope is the crème fraiche cheesecake I’ve been working on, but even that is feeling bleak.
“What the hell happened?” Kai’s voice drips with panic.
Turning, I attempt to wipe off some of the flour from my apron but it’s no use. I’m covered. “How’d your game go?”
“It was fine.” Kai doesn’t make eye contact with me; instead, his attention continues to wander over his disaster of a kitchen.
The long exhale that leaves me blows a strand of hair from in front of my eyes, but it falls right back onto my face. “I suck at my job.”
He pauses his confused perusal, his face softening. “Well, my son is alive and you haven’t burnt the house down . . . yet. I’d say you’re doing okay.”
“That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, but no. Not this job. Not watching Max, but my real job. I suck at it.”
Just then, the oven’s timer beeps. Using the dish towel thrown over my shoulder, I pull out the cookie sheet to find my garnish burnt to a crisp.
“Fuck my life. This is supposed to be a black sesame crumb.”
“Looks like you nailed it. It’s definitely black.”
My eyes narrow at the giant baseball player who looks far too good leaning a shoulder on the fridge and watching me.
“It’s not even the main dessert. It’s just a garnish. I can’t even get the garnish right. What is wrong with me?” I toss the cookie sheet onto the counter.
I’m not a crier. I don’t get attached enough to cry, but I had an attachment forming to what I thought was going to be the recipe to pull me out of my rut. Head falling back, I close my eyes, attempting to swallow down my disappointment.
That is, until I feel two long arms, corded with muscles, swallow me whole in a hug. My eyes pop open to find a gray T-shirt pulled taut over a chest that my face is buried in.
“You’re okay,” he says, soothingly. It’s spoken in a way he might say those words to his son if he fell and bumped his head. It’s gentle and steady, and works far too well on my chaotic brain.
I melt into him, my arms sliding around his lean waist. “You smell good.”
His chest rumbles against my cheek. “I showered after the game this time.”
“Does that mean you trust me with your son?”
“Don’t ask me that, Montgomery. You’re in a fragile state, and I’d have to lie to you so I don’t feel bad.”
“Kai?”
“Hmm?”
“Why are you hugging me?”