Spring Training (2 page)

Please let him get his shot…and not screw it up.

Chapter One

Six weeks later

Aaron rolled his shoulder gingerly then scowled down at the oily rag in his hand. Bad enough that he wasn’t able to be at his real home, working out with his team for spring training, but now Coach had talked him into babysitting duty for the new young phenom he’d brought into the organization. A phenom that was currently AWOL. Not exactly an auspicious start.

His cell phone rang just as he was getting into a good rhythm. “Damn it. Great timing, Deke.” After looking around fruitlessly for a sec, he finally just wiped his oily hands down his jeans. They were old anyway.

When he finally picked the phone up, he had to smile at the contact photo of his friend getting knocked ass over teakettle during a play at home. “Hey, man,” he answered.

“Hank! Wut up?” Deke’s low drawl was as thick and strong as Deke himself.

“Not much.” He stood and walked over to the sliding door to the balcony, staring out at the forested greenbelt behind the condo complex. He’d closed the door earlier because some random neighbor somewhere had been smoking. “Just doing some chores. Day off.” He slid the door open and sniffed to make sure the air was unpolluted before stepping out. One thing he couldn’t stand was the smell of smoke. Probably came from growing up with a dad who’d constantly smoked in the house. He’d had enough second-hand carcinogens in his lifetime.

“So how long ya gonna be down on the farm makin’ hay?”

Aaron had to chuckle at the creative reference to his current position with one of their minor league teams—or ‘farm teams’. Deke might fool those who didn’t know him into thinking he was some dumb hick, but he was sharp and had a wicked quick sense of humor. “Probably until my country accent’s as thick as yours, boy.” He sat on the chaise longue and swung his legs up onto the seat.

“Hain’t never gonna happen. This here took decades to perfect.” After a brief laugh, Deke added in a more serious tone, “You ain’t worried ‘bout the long run, are ya? The docs haven’t said anything else?”

“Nothing new.” Aaron shrugged reflexively then winced. He kept forgetting. “It’ll just take time and determination.”
And luck.

“And you got those in spades, or your name ain’t Hank Aaron Reynolds, son.”

“Amen, brother.”

“How’s the wet nursin’ going?”

“Typical.” Aaron wasn’t a gossip, but this was Deke, and he knew that whatever he said wouldn’t go anywhere. Well, maybe with the exception of his wife, Julia, but she was similar to Deke in that she was trustworthy. They had both proven it many times before, especially during this time in Aaron’s career. Everyone knew that Aaron and Deke were best friends, so Deke and Julia got asked questions about him a lot but never volunteered anything.

“So he’s basically young and cocky and full of himself?”

“Sort of. Yeah, on the face of it. Seems to have decent manners, though, so it might not be too bad. That said, he didn’t come home last night.”

Deke gave a snort. “What, already? He’s only been there a day, right?”

“Yep.” He sighed. Aaron had seen Emery Sandusky’s footage with the rest of the coaching staff, and he was a heck of a ballplayer. He played third base like he’d been born for it, plus he was a natural hitter. But it hadn’t taken much digging to find out he was a partier, so Coach had asked Aaron to open up his condo to the young man, to try to insulate him as best he could and be a steadying influence.

Even so, Emery’d disappeared his first night in town with some of the other younger players.

Deke grunted disgustedly and Aaron continued, “I didn’t expect to have to lay down the law about curfew and house rules before the kid even unpacked. I suppose I’ll have to have a chat with him today. If he ever comes home,” he added, looking at the clock. They had a day off today but would be expected to hit it hard starting tomorrow. “I was going to take him over to the field and show him around so he knows what to expect when he walks in tomorrow.”

“That’s nice of ya, Dad.”

“Shove it,” Aaron shot back without any heat. “Speaking of dads, how’s Julia coming along? She got that baby baked yet?”

“Still cookin’, Uncle Hank,” Deke answered proudly. After a couple of years of effort, complicated by the team’s travelling schedule, Deke and Julia had finally managed to get the deed done. His best friend couldn’t wait to be a daddy. “You’d best heal up and come on back, ‘cause if you ain’t here when this baby comes, Julia will never forgive ya.”

Aaron smirked. “Yeah, I’m sure it’s Julia that won’t be happy.”

Deke laughed his cheerful, deep chuckle. “That’s all I’m coppin’ to. We get to take a gander at it tomorrow, maybe find out if it’s a boy or girl if he don’t have his legs crossed.”

“Or
her
legs,” Aaron pointed out.

“I’ll be glad when we find out, man. I hate callin’ the baby ‘it’ and every fuckin’ time I say one or t’other someone corrects me.”

Aaron laughed. “Yeah, that’ll come in handy.”

“I’d best be goin’. Don’t be a stranger, ’kay?”

“Yeah, man. I’ll touch base in a couple days.”

“You do that. See ya.”

Aaron said goodbye and hung up then stretched. He really didn’t have much to do today. He’d already gone to the store to stock up on food for the week, done some light cleaning and caught up on emails. Maybe he’d go for a jog after he put a bit more time into the glove he was breaking in.

He went back inside and settled into the soothing rhythm of working oil into leather. He’d been at it for about ten minutes when he heard the sound of a key in the lock. He looked up from the glove as the front door of the condo opened. His new charge came through the door, looking a bit worse for the wear, slamming the door behind him in his haste.

Here we go
.

Having great skills at ball didn’t always translate into life skills, and this guy was, as Deke had so succinctly put, a typical, cocky young guy. Aaron sighed. When he’d offered to help out his old coach while doing rehab, he’d figured that would mean running outfielders’ drills and encouraging players during training. He hadn’t thought he’d be stuck mentoring a party boy one-on-one. But the kid was promising enough to McCauley that he had a vested interest in keeping him on the straight and narrow. He tried to remember that and put a welcoming smile on his face.

“Hey, Aaron, how’s it going?” Emery greeted him.

At least he was somewhat polite. His parents had evidently taught him some manners, though a bit more discipline when he was younger might have gone a long way toward curbing his antics. He’d only been here for about a day, and he was already staying out all night—drinking, from the looks of him. Emery plopped down in the chair next to him at the table.
And the smell of him
. Time would tell whether it was the start of a bad habit, or just an understandable one-time celebration of his new circumstances.

“Hi, Emery. Pretty good.” He added more oil to his rag then began spreading it on the glove he was conditioning. “Have fun last night?” Inwardly he winced at hearing his father’s disapproving and sarcastic voice coming out of his mouth.

Thankfully, his tone went right over Emery’s bed-head. “Oh yeah. There are some guys I know from college ball, so they showed me around. Met a chick. You know…” Emery shrugged and slouched back into the chair.

Aaron did know, though he’d usually avoided the bleacher babes that buzzed around ballplayers. He gave one head tilt in response, barely keeping from rolling his eyes. He was less than ten years older than Emery, but he felt ancient next to his youthful obliviousness.

“Oh!” Emery sat up straight. “Crap. What time is it? I’d better get cleaned up.”

Aaron frowned. “It’s around noon. What’s up?”

Emery stood, a slow, genuine grin softening his face. “I hope you don’t mind, but my number one fan is driving down today and I told her she could stay here while she’s in town.”

Jesus. The kid had a girlfriend coming to stay and he’d just gotten back from getting laid last night?

Emery’s smile slowly dropped when Aaron didn’t respond right away. “That’s not a problem, is it?”

“No, man. Whatever.
Mi casa es su casa
.” He nodded at Emery, hiding his disgust. He never could understand cheaters. Why commit to someone then fuck around? He nodded to Emery’s less than stellar appearance. “You might want to clean up, though.”

“Yeah, good idea. She’d freak if she saw me like this at this time of day.” Instead of going to his still unpacked room, though, Emery first headed to the kitchen.

Aaron was still shaking his head when a knock came at the door. Well, more of a pounding, really, that had him jumping up to answer just to get it to stop.

Jesus. That better not be the cops or an angry husband or something
.

Teri’s hands and arms were full of the reusable grocery bags she’d hauled up to Emery’s new apartment. Unable to knock, she kicked the door three times hard. No answer. And she’d just talked to him ten minutes ago. “C’mon, Em,” she muttered, pulling her foot back for another ‘knock’.

Instead of resistance, her foot met air as the door opened. Thrown off balance, she took a desperate step forward, trying to regain her balance.

“Whoa.”

She was caught firmly by the elbow and steadied by a large, strong grip.

“You must be ‘the number one fan’,” the unfamiliar voice added with a touch of sarcasm.

You must be Aaron, the apparently grumpy roommate
.

Finally stable, she looked up, expecting to see a young man around her sons’ age.

Boy, was she wrong. In a good way.

Suddenly hyperaware of the hand still grasping her arm, she fought for composure. Her over-stimulated primary erogenous zone—her brain—was having a field day as the man in front of her tripped every trigger she possessed at once.

Tall, muscular and athletic? Check.

Tawny, sun-kissed skin and blond hair? Uh-huh.

Deep celadon green eyes with little laugh lines at the edges? Nice touch.

She inhaled deeply. Gads, he even smelled heavenly. Male, spicy and a little bit like…glove oil?

Rowr.

The squint lines were promising. Maybe—hopefully—he wasn’t nearly as young as she’d expected. Or maybe they were just from playing ball in the sun for so many years and she was a total perv. She glanced down at the elbow he still held.

“Oh, damn, sorry about that.” He removed the oily rag he was holding in the hand supporting her, swiping at her skin ineffectually with his thumb. At least, it was ineffective at removing the grease. It was proving pretty effective at something else though…

Her eyes narrowed as something about his face gave her a prod of recognition.

Aaron? Hmm…

Trying to place him, and realizing she hadn’t yet said a word, she finally responded, “No problem.” She was proud of how normal her voice sounded.

Get a grip, Sandusky. You
sooo
need a man if you’re lusting after your son’s roommate.

Gratefully seizing upon the grounding effect of the thought of her son, she continued, “You must be Aaron. Is Emery here?”

“Yes.” He backed in a bit reluctantly. “C’mon in, he just rolled in. I’ll try to catch him before he gets in the shower.”

Teri frowned, distracted from her hormonal mental wanderings. “Just rolled in? You mean, from being out last night?”
Oh, great.

Aaron shifted, looking uncomfortable, but before he could answer, Em strolled into the living room. “Ma, hey!”

“Ma?” Aaron echoed incredulously, going still.

Emery crossed the room in a couple of big strides and gave her a hug.
Whoa
. Almost overcome with the stench as his unbound hair fell against her face, she reared back, pushing him away and gaping at him.

“Emery! Have you been smoking?” She took another careful sniff, and the sharp tang of alcohol was unmistakable. She’d unfortunately learned over the years that his body chemistry processed alcohol in a very recognizable manner through his pores. Her heart clenched. “You reek of alcohol,” she stated flatly, staring him down.

“What?” Em shot back, but had the grace to flush as he tried to take a sniff of himself, evidently so used to it he couldn’t smell it anymore. “It was just a little getting to know the team thing last night.” He fiddled with the belt loops of his jeans as he avoided eye contact.

Disappointment clamored and Teri tried to swallow it down. Only one day, and he was already partying. With one last look at her son’s averted face, she turned toward the kitchen. “Go take a shower. We’ll talk when you get out.” She was already dreading the conversation, one she could predict almost down to the exact words. The excuses, the defensiveness, the promises.

Damn it, Em. When are you going to grow up?

She’d had reservations about his quitting college to take this shot at pro ball, but he’d vowed to take it seriously. Pressing her lips together to try to keep from swearing out loud—or, worse, tearing up—she entered the small kitchen, set down the bags then began to put away the perishables she’d impulsively bought for Em at the natural foods store she’d spotted on the way into town. His favorite yoghurt, orange-peach-mango juice, hummus and red peppers—the only raw vegetable she didn’t have to fight to make him eat. The contents of the fridge surprised her a bit
—
she’d expected to see only beer, pop and ketchup. Instead, she had to work to make room for the peppers in the crisper drawer amongst an assortment of other veggies.

She sensed movement behind her as she finished, and straightened to find Aaron putting away the non-perishables from one of the other sacks in the small pantry. He turned away quickly as she stood, gaze sliding away from the vicinity of her backside. She raised a mental eyebrow. He was checking out her ass? She snorted. Now
there
was something that didn’t happen every day. If she’d known, she might’ve put on some makeup and worn something besides loose yoga pants and a T-shirt. But comfort was way more important to her than trying to compete with the pretty, young things who could always be found hanging around the teams. Especially while traveling.