Page 13 of Double Play

Declan chuckles again before addressing me. “Would you like something? Wine? Beer? Tennessee whiskey?”

Slowly unfolding my arms which I hadn’t realized I’d been tightly clenching across my midsection, I shift and answer him. “Wine would be wonderful.”

From my position, I notice a butcher-paper wrapped package on the L-shaped peninsula counter that separates the kitchen from the living space.

“Steaks,” Declan clarifies, following my line of sight. “I’d been planning to grill tonight.”

“Date?” I counter before I can stop myself, realizing that Declan might have had plans for this evening. With someone else.

Isaiah invited himself to Nashville because of the series. The Victors against the Terrors was something he couldn’t miss, he’d told me. Essentially, it was a battle of our dad against Declan.

Because there are two more games in the series, and the fact I need to work during them, I hadn’t thought about the national holiday. I figured I’d work and return to my home to rest before starting the process over again.

I am career-driven. But the drive can be lonely sometimes. And the last thing I want to think about is Declan having a date that we’ve interrupted.

“Uh, no,” he sharply quips.

“Our boy here doesn’t date,” Isaiah says, waving the hand holding his glass a bit precariously, causing me to hold my breath, anticipating he might spill some of the liquid over the rim.

Is he drunk? I have no doubt my brother enjoyed himself at the game, taking a seat in the Vegas owner’s suite because of our connection to the team through our father.

When our dad took the job, Isaiah was an instant fan of the new-to-the-league program. I hadn’t been so enthusiastic as I’d been ripped from my beautiful Colorado home at a pivotal age and plopped into the Nevada desert to finish high school.

With that thought, I spare another glance at the image of beautiful Montgomery Wylde in her yellow softball uniform. At fifteen, I openly rebelled. Not enough to be arrested, but enough to make Dad notice me, even if the attention was negative.

Greatness lay on Isaiah. He was going to be a star. A professional baseball player. A champion.

“Does she want to play softball when she grows up?” I suddenly ask, worried about another almost fifteen-year-old girl and her relationship with her father.

“God, no.” Declan chuckles, the sound light, pleased even. “She wants to be a doctor. But next week she might want to be a teacher.”

Turning to fully face him, I catch his shrug, but his expression isn’t as nonchalant as the shoulder movement. He lights up when he talks about Montgomery. “Doesn’t matter to me. She’ll be an MVP at anything she does.”

The simple praise of his daughter almost brings tears to my eyes. I bet he’s the best dad. A true girl’s dad. Proud of her accomplishments no matter what they are.

“You don’t want her to play a sport?” I question, like I’m still that fifteen-year-old girl, who did play sports in hopes to impress her father, but my dad didn’t think there was a future in them for me.

Title IX ruined men’s sports, I once heard Richard Baker quip to a friend.

“I want her to do whatever she wants to do. Be whoever she wants to be. For now, she loves softball, but she doesn’t have passion for it.” Declan makes a small fist to emphasize the grit of a game, then loosens his clenched fingers. “But that’s okay. I just want her to have fun. Be on a team with friends. And if she changes her mind, well, . . . then we’ll see where that leads.”

He offers a smooth smile, confident in his daughter’s abilities while equally content to let her shine without pressure to perform.

“She isn’t with you this weekend?” I know nothing about Declan’s arrangement with Montgomery’s mother other than they never married. Isaiah once mentioned they were friends, not lovers. I have no idea if they did the every-other-weekend thing or how that would even work with the hectic schedule of a professional coach.

“She’s away with friends for the holiday.” He smiles wider, staring at the image of his daughter in that short blue dress. “She’s getting to the point she wants to spend more of her free time with them than with her old man.” His smile softens but sadness twinges his eyes.

It’s hard to imagine how quickly fifteen years has passed, and yet how painfully slow at the same time.

“Off to college soon,” I tease.

Declan’s eyes snap to my face. His hand slaps over his chest, covering his heart with his large paw. “Don’t remind me.” His smile grows wider as our eyes hold on one another.

He’s lethal when he looks at me with love for his daughter in his eyes. She’s a lucky girl to have him as a dad. And he’s a lucky man to have her.

“Loosen up,” Isaiah practically shouts, startling me by suddenly wrapping his arm around my neck, and jostling me.

“I am loose,” I counter, and glance at Declan for some reason. My cheeks flame.