Someone Someday (All in Good Time Book 2) (8 page)

"It's still my night off," he said as we were throwing our trash away.

"What's that mean?" I asked.

"I told my mom I'd drop by to eat a slice of pie. She bakes them to entice me to come over there."

"How were you planning on getting there?" I asked.

"Nick," he said.

"I don't mind dropping you off, at her house if that's what you're asking."

We had made our way to my car, and he was standing at the passenger's side with the door open, looking over the top at me. "I thought you might want some pie."

I stared at him in utter disbelief. "I can't go into your parents house like this," I said. "It's bad enough that you talked me into eating tacos."

"Come on, it's my night off," he said. "You'd do it if you knew how rare they were."

I shook my head, not understanding his motives. "Why do you even want me to?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Why not? I was digging your boxing skills and now I'm having fun hanging out with you. Isn't that enough?"

I cocked my head at him. "Are you serious?"

"Serious about what? The boxing skills or the pie?"

"Both, but let's talk about the pie."

"Yes, I'm serious. I happen to be serious about both, but if we're just discussing the pie, then I'll tell you that my mother really knows how to bake. She almost always has two kinds to choose from. And yes, I want you to come with me to enjoy a slice."

I let out a sigh and said, "Let's go, I guess," as I sat in the driver's seat.

Chapter 10

"My parents live right by the stadium," Morgan said, once I put on my seatbelt and started the car. "Do you know where it is?"

I nodded. "Yeah, that's just a couple of miles from where I live." I took a left as I left the Mexican grocery store to head in that direction.

"So you grew up in San Francisco?" I asked.

He laughed. "No, I grew up in a tiny little farm town in Iowa, actually."

"Oh, so your parents just moved here because you live here now?"

I glanced at him and he nodded. "My dad used to teach technology, but now he's a website designer and works from home. I'm an only child, and they love watching me play, so basically they just follow me around. I've been traded three times since I was drafted, and they pack up and move every time."

"How long have you been in San Francisco?"

"Almost three years. I'm just about to wrap up my second full season."

"That's about the same as me. How do you like it?" I glanced at him and could see that he was smiling.

"What's not to love?" he said.

"And how about playing baseball?" I asked.

"To say the schedule is grueling would be an understatement, and there's tremendous pressure to preform." He paused. "But I can't imagine finding another job I love this much. With great risk comes great reward as they say, and I think they're right, whoever they are. I'm blessed for sure."

I smiled to myself thinking how much Laney and Zack would like hearing how blessed he was. "I'm hoping you're right about the risk and reward thing," I said. "I work at a coffee shop right now and I'm thinking about trying to open one of my own. I’m scared, but I think I'll be glad I went for it."

"I can think of about twenty different quotes about it being better to try and fail than to have never tried at all," he said. "And when there's tons of quotes about one thing, it's because it's true."

I smiled without taking my eyes off the road.

"Do you have a plan or is it just a thought."

I sighed thinking about all I had to do. "It's more than a thought, but I'm at the very beginning stages of planning. I wouldn't call what I have a plan just yet."

"You gotta start somewhere," he said.

I wanted to tell him about the lottery. I wanted to tell him that I had my own money and would be able to use it to open the coffee shop of my dreams, but for some reason I just couldn't do it. Up until then, I had been so private about winning the lottery that it just didn't seem right to spill my guts to him the first day we met.

"I've thought about opening a restaurant once I'm done with baseball," he said. " I really don't know anything about restaurants, and don't even know what kind I would want to open, but it's one of the things that crosses my mind when I think about life after baseball. I think baseball will provide me enough to last my lifetime, but I'd like to leave something behind for my kids, you know?"

I thought about what Zack had said earlier, and smiled to myself again. "Yeah, that'd be cool. I like restaurants, but I think coffee shops are more my thing. I like everything about coffee. I'd like to get into roasting my own beans. You know, create a brand for myself."

"That's awesome," he said. "Like sell bags of coffee with your brand on them?"

"Yeah."

He was quiet for a second. "Let me get this straight—" he said, really thinking about it. "So you would buy raw coffee beans from like a farmer or whatever, and you'd roast them yourself and sell them as your brand?"

"Exactly!" I said, smiling.

"And what do you roast these beans in?"

"A commercial coffee roaster," I said, amused by his curiosity.

"And how do you get it to turn out the same every time?"

"There's a science to it," I said. "Its about timing and temperatures, but it's not really that difficult."

"I think that's a great idea," he said.

"I'm excited about it. I love the smell of coffee. I love that buying a cup of it is one of the best parts of my customers' day."

"Do you know what you're gonna call it?" he asked.

"I was trying to think of something that would translate to a name brand of my beans. I thought about 'Painted Daisy Coffee Company' but my sister and brother-in-law said that might be too girly. I thought about 'Painted Bear Coffee Company' too. I think the word painted is catchy and could make for a colorful logo." I glanced at him and shrugged. "I like bears too."

"I like it," he said. "I'd buy a pound of Painted Bear coffee."

"Once you buy a pound you're hooked, though," I said, giggling a little.

"I guess I'll have to become a regular customer, then," he said.

We talked about coffee and restaurants, which led to a conversation about movies and then one about dogs. We had the same opinions on things and a similar sense of humor. I was entirely at ease talking to him or just sitting there in silence, which was weird since we had just met.

I wondered what made me comfortable with him as opposed to other guys. I compared him to guys like Jason, and realized that with them it was obvious, even though they try to act otherwise, that they wanted to sleep with me. That's what was different about Morgan—he seemed like he was hanging out with me simply because he enjoyed my friendship. He didn't seem to care at all whether or not he scored with me. That was it! I liked his company because he didn't see me for anything more than a friend. Something about that thought made me happy and sad at the same time.

Morgan's parents lived in a really nice apartment building right downtown. They had a private parking garage with a security guard working at the entrance. Morgan leaned over from the passenger's seat to speak to the guy, who was thrilled to see him and let us in with the warmest of greetings. I wondered if the guy was that nice to everyone or if people just got excited to see Morgan.

We rode an elevator to his parents' floor and he took me through a maze of hallways to get to their door. He knocked lightly a few times before opening the door.

"Hello," he called.

"Hey honey, come on in!" a woman's voice yelled.

"I have my friend Lexi with me," he said, and just as he said it, we rounded the corner to the open kitchen and living room.

There was a wall-to-wall window on the far side that overlooked downtown. I was expecting his parent's place to be traditionally furnished, but it was hip and modern and took me by surprise. The furnishings weren't the only things that were hip and modern and took me by surprise. His mom came into view with open arms like she was waiting for her hug. At least I thought it was his mom. She was beautiful, and looked young enough to be his girlfriend.

"Hey sweetheart," she said, hugging him. "Who'd you bring with you?"

I stared at her, unable to come to terms with the fact that she could actually have given birth to him. He told me we were going to his mother's house—that she had baked a pie. I thought pie-baking mothers should look like Mrs. Butterworth, not Catherine Zeta Jones.

"Mom this is Lexi," Morgan said, stepping back. "Lexi, this is my mom Teresa."

She reached out and took me into her arms with a huge smile.

I hugged her back very reluctantly. "I'm so sorry," I said. "I'm probably really sweaty."

She pulled back and waved a hand in the air. "Are you kidding?" she said. She pushed at Morgan's chest playfully. "I gave birth to this sweaty old thing."

"I can't believe you gave birth to him," I said. "You look like you could be his sister."

She reached out and hugged me again. "I love this girl already," she said.

"Everybody thinks she's my daughter," Mr. Turner said coming into the room. I turned to face him. He was as tall as Morgan with the same handsome, strong features, but he had a full head of grey hair.

"It's just his hair," Teresa said rolling her eyes. "He's only six months older than me."

Mr. Turner approached us wearing a bright smile. He gave Morgan a half-hug and three solid pats on the shoulder before looking at me.

"I missed your name," he said with his hand out.

"Lexi," I said.

"Jim Turner," he said.

"She does boxing at Summit," Morgan said. "That's where we met."

"What are you doing at Summit?" his mom asked with a worried expression. "I went to bring Nick my truck. He's putting some speakers in it."

"You're gonna hurt your ears listening to that loud music," Jim said.

"I'm not interested in it being loud, I just want it to sound good."

Teresa looked at me and shook her head. "I don't understand all that. I thought it already sounded good."

I smiled and shrugged.

"Would you two like a slice of pie?" she asked.

We agreed and she cut us each a slice. Morgan chose apple and I chose cherry. I couldn’t eat apple pie anymore. Laney and I had just ordered a slice of it at the truck stop the night I got raped, and I'd never been able to eat that or chicken fried steak ever since.

The cherry was delicious, though. It was an official homemade pie with the crisscross crust on top and everything. Mrs. Turner warmed it up and served it with whipped cream. Morgan said it was all right to bring it into the living room, and we all sat on the couches together. Morgan was done in about four bites, but I worked on mine for several minutes as we made conversation with his parents.

"Oh, it's cool that you guys can see the stadium from here," I said, pointing out the window.

"Yeah, we love it," Teresa said. "We go to all the home games… and some of the ones in L.A. and San Diego too."

"Oh, man you guys must know a lot about baseball."

"How about you?" Jim asked. "Do you like baseball?"

"I've actually never watched a whole game," I said. "I'm sort of embarrassed by how little I know."

"Doesn't your dad watch sports?" he asked.

It was a normal question, but it made me a little nervous. They were such a nice family that I hated to admit that I never met my father. I made a split second decision to go for full disclosure.

"I've actually never met my dad," I said casually. Everyone's eyes widened slightly in unison as if they knew the wrong thing was said.

I smiled, assuring them I was okay talking about it. "My mom didn't watch baseball either. Living with her was a bit of a train wreck. She's back in Washington and it's probably better that way. I came here with my sister a little over three years ago. We're a good team."

"What's your sister's name," Teresa asked, trying to hang on to the positive bit of that information.

"Laney," I said. "We're really close. She just had a baby last week—my first little nephew. His name's Henry."

"Aw, that's so sweet, I'll bet you're thrilled with the new addition."

"We are," I said.

"Lexi wants to open a coffee shop," Morgan said. The statement came across like he was almost proud of me, and I smiled at him.

"I'm in the planning stages," I said. "It'll just be a couple of miles from here. You guys should come once I get it up and running."

"I'd love to," Teresa said. "I love coffee. In fact, I should have offered you some with your pie. Would you like me to make a pot?"

Morgan and I both thanked her but refused. "Maybe I could feature your pies sometime if you'd be interested in baking ten or fifteen of them at once."

She gasped and held her hand to her chest. "You think they're good enough to sell at a coffee shop?"

"Of course they are. I work at a coffee shop right now and our pies aren’t nearly this good."

She beamed and blushed and her reaction made Jim glow with pride. They were just too darn cute, and I marveled that normal families like this existed in the world.

Morgan and I stayed at his parent's house for over an hour. It was after 9pm when we left. He looked at me in the hallway on the way to the parking garage.

"I should have warned you, but it's a thirty minute drive to my house. I can have my dad bring me home if that's too much to ask."

I was only a couple of miles from my apartment. I was tired and sweaty and desperately wanted a shower. If it had been anyone else, I would have taken him up on the offer to find another ride home. But when it came down to it, I wasn't ready for the evening to end. I was relatively sure this night was a fluke and I'd never have the chance to hang out with him again. I wanted a shower, but not bad enough to say goodbye.

"I don't mind driving you home," I said as we stepped into the elevator. He smiled as he pushed the button.

"I was hoping you'd say that."

We stood there in silence for a few seconds.

"Hey Lexi?" he said.

"Yeah."

"I have a slight confession to make."

I glanced at him curiously. "What?"

"When Nick called you over in the parking lot, I was already planning on asking you if you could give me a ride."

"Really?" I asked, thinking back and trying to remember how it all went down.