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A week later, our team drafts a new crop of players. OTAs start at the end of May again, and a new season is about to getunderway. Desiree becomes hotter and hotter to me as I watch our baby grow in her stomach, and I spend as much time with her as I possibly can, tending to her every need as the house I bought starts to really feel like a home.
She’s busy planning for the charity ball, and when the week of the ball is upon us, I’m stuck at mandatory minicamp all week as she puts every last detail into place—including the dress she’ll wear to the ball as she chairs it at thirty-five weeks pregnant.
She walks into our kitchen wearing a formal dress with leaves on it—very different from the leaves of last year, but this year she’s absolutely glowing.
“You’re gorgeous, Des,” I say softly.
A small smile lifts her lips, and then she sets a hand on her side. “Oh! That was a big kick right to the ribs. Come here.”
I walk over and set my hand on her stomach, and I feel a movement. It’s a little jab coming from her stomach, and it’s something I never thought I’d care about…but it might just be the most exhilarating feeling in the world.
My eyes meet hers, and her small smile widens. “Can you believe it’s the anniversary of the night we met?”
“Who would’ve thought a year ago that we’d be going to this ball tonight where we are now?” I ask. “You’re planning the entire thing, we’re going together, we’re living together and totally in love and having a baby in just a few weeks?”
“Well, some things didn’t change.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “Such as?”
“I booked us the biggest suite at the hotel for afterward. Except this time, I packed an overnight bag.”
“I’m going to fuck that dress right off of you,” I say, and I pull her into my arms.
“Up against the window?”
“Whatever way you want it,” I promise, and I lower my lips to hers.
She pulls back abruptly. “Okay, enough of that. You know I have to get to the ball early, and if you keep kissing me, we’ll end up late.”
“Then let’s be late,” I groan, and she laughs.
“As hot as you are in that suit, I can’t be late tonight.” She looks me up and down with a bit of regret that we didn’t budget time to fuck before we headed out, and then she sighs. “Damn, you look good.”
I glance down at my navy suit with a bright red tie. I guess my fashion choices have calmed a bit over the last few months, but the bright red still feels like me. And I open my jacket and flash the stitching on the inside lining at her.
I put it in the event planner.
Just underneath the words is a silhouette of a pregnant woman.
She giggles and shakes her head.
I shrug. “If I didn’t make some sort of bold fashion statement, my brothers would never let me live it down.”
“Just don’t let my dad see that.”
“Fair point. I’ll keep it on and only flash it at anyone with the last name Nash.”
“Speaking of, what’s the latest on the half-brothers situation?” She walks over toward the fridge to grab a bottle of water.
“I talked to Spencer last week, and things are going well with OTAs in San Diego.”
“I can’t believe both of them were traded to the same team,” she says as she moves toward the pantry to grab some snacks to stuff into her purse. “What are the chances?”
I nod. “Now there’s three Nashes on the Storm and three who either are or were formerly part of the Aces.”
“So weird. How’s Spencer doing with it?” she asks. She walks back toward the counter where I’m standing. “You ready to go?”
I nod. “He’s actually doing great with it. He’s excited to work with both of them, and I think San Diego is going to be the team to beat this year with all that talent in one place.” We head out toward the garage and climb into my truck as I’m talking.
