Page 8 of Stealing Home

Nando is shaking his head before Scott is even finished talking. “No. I want you focused on training. You don’t need to concern yourself with the mundane details. Harlow can cover those.”

I suppress a growl and storm out of the office.

“Harlow, hold up,” Scott calls after me once I’m outside.

I stop next to my car, waiting for the too perceptive pitcher to catch up. He smiles and I’m instantly jealous of twenty-year-old women everywhere. “You are not taking care of all the planning of this clinic alone. You’ve got to work and that’s important too.”

My face cracks. Why is it I feel more appreciated by one of Nando’s players than I do by my husband?

“Hey, what did I say?” He brushes his hand across my face, wiping away a tear I didn’t realize escaped. Odd the first tear I’ve shed in years happens in front of Scott. There’s something about him that makes me feel when I’ve done all I could to feel nothing.

I should step back, but I’m so starved for genuine concern I lean into his touch. “You didn’t say anything wrong. I just lost my job. Someone suggested I’m neglecting my duties as the coach’s wife and they let me go.”

“That’s bullshit. His job isn’t your responsibility.”

“Well, the university disagrees with you,” I sigh.

Scott reaches out and touches my elbow. “I’m going to help you anyway.”

I duck my head and smile at him. “Thank you, but Nando is right. You should focus on your training.”

He crosses his arms, making his biceps bulge against the sleeves of his t-shirt. “Spending time with a beautiful woman is not a hardship.”

“You’re trouble, hotshot, but I’ll take your help.” He’s definitely a boost to my ego, but I’ll have to be on my guard when I’m with the flirty pitcher.

4

Scott

I strollover to my truck. My best friend on the team, Taylor Jenkins, leans against the side, scowling at me. “Tell me you weren’t flirting with the coach’s wife.”

“I wasn’t flirting with the coach’s wife,” I parrot. I totally was. I can’t seem to help myself when it comes to Harlow.

It’s not just that she’s beautiful. Not that looking at her is a hardship. She’s got classic Hollywood looks with wavy dark hair that falls halfway down her back, eyes so blue they’re almost purple, and delicate features that make a man want to write poetry. That’s all external shit that doesn’t touch the beauty I see inside of her. This is my third year on the team, the first with me starting, and I’ve watched her the whole time without her realizing it.

Not in a creepy stalker way, I’ve just been observant at any baseball event she attended. I relegated it to a crush, something crafted by my broken heart. Last spring I learned my long time girlfriend was cheating on me. I wasn’t ready to move on, so I fantasized about a woman I couldn’t have. She was safe. Now there’s a sadness surrounding her that makes me want to slay dragons.

Taylor slaps me on the back of the head. “Pick one of the jersey chasers to scratch that itch and leave Coach’s wife alone.”

“It’s just harmless flirting. She knows I don’t mean anything by it.” I totally do. I’d give my left nut for a chance with her. Now that I’m pretty sure he’s mistreating her, I might not hold back.

“Coach isn’t going to see it as harmless, so tone that shit down. You need to back out of the youth clinic,” he demands.

“No way in hell. The kids are counting on it.”

“The clinic will still go on without you. I’ll step into your place,” he argues.

I cock an eyebrow. Taylor hates kids. It’s like an allergy. He sneezes and itches. Even the idea of kids makes him practically break out in hives.

“Really, you’d step in to help out all those kids?” I prod.

He probably doesn’t even realize he’s scratching at his arms. “Fuck,” he curses. “You know their little hands freak me out.”

I slap him on the back. “You need therapy. How are you ever going to settle down if you need Benadryl to be around children?”

Taylor shudders. “Settle down? What are you trying to do, traumatize me? I’m not doing that shit, ever. Not everyone comes from some Norman Rockwell family.”

I smile. I’m not going to deny his words. My parents are practically perfect. I say practically, because I do have to live with my dad mauling my mom whenever he thinks they’re alone. According to my dad, my mom had some pretty extreme morning sickness when she was pregnant. Honestly, that’s the only thing that probably kept him from keeping her pregnant. The way he chases her around he’s not exactly good at restraint. Hell, she was pregnant with me at their wedding when they were still in college.

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