Page 23 of The Foul Out

“Plus, they’ve been running around for hours. They probably need some down time. Balance isn’t a bad thing.”

Oh. My cheeks heated. Dammit. Flicking at a piece of lint on my leggings, I focused on working up the nerve to apologize.

“Anyway,” he said before I could formulate an appropriate statement. “I heard through the grapevine that you’re having a day care crisis.”

With a sharp intake of breath, I scrutinized him. How did he know that? I hadn’t mentioned it to anyone on the team. “What?”

“Am I wrong?” He raised a brow, looking nothing like the guy who’d been laughing and running the bases with my kids. He’d quickly morphed into the cocky pain in the ass who spent a lot of time BSing with the reporters.

“No, but…” I regarded my kids. Neither was paying any attention. I’d been telling Piper since before the game yesterday that she wasn’t going to the YMCA after school anymore. But I couldn’t believe she’d opened up to Kyle about it.

“So like I was saying. You need a new day care. And I assume you need it by Monday.”

I laughed. “Unless I’m somehow blessed with a fairy godmother in the next thirty-six hours, that isn’t happening.”

He rolled his eyes. “Langfield Corp has a day care. It’s available to their employees and players. They can take Piper and Sam until you find a permanent spot for them.”

“No, they can’t.” I shook my head.

He crossed his arms and leaned back in the seat. The move made the muscles of his forearms ripple against the sleeves of his fitted blue athletic shirt. He eyed the driver, a man wearing a black Langfield Corp polo, before shifting his attention back to me. “What do you mean?”

“There is no reason for that.” Taking a few pictures together so that the whole city of Boston would no longer hate me was one thing. Even having a day of fun for the kids. But I wasn’t taking anything else from him. “I don’t work for the Revs or Langfield Corp, so there is no reason for my kids?—”

“Look.” He threw a hand up and huffed. “I get that I was a dick last night. I don’t lose well.” He shrugged the statement off like he was talking about a six-year-old rather than himself.

“Yeah,” I agreed with a scoff. “That was clear when Emerson had to let you win a fun race around the bases.”

Kyle sputtered. “Letme?”

“Kyle, he crushed you six races in a row,” I explained, doing my best to keep my tone even despite the ridiculousness of this conversation. How could he not understand this? “And suddenly, on the seventh, you won.” I cocked a brow. “Do you know why? He didn’t want to have to go again, so he threw the race.”

“No way.” Kyle shook his head, his brow creased. “I’ll prove it.” He shifted to yank his phone out of his pocket and tapped out a message. Once he finished, he set it on his knee and glared at me. “I’m trying to apologize here, but you’re being nothing but difficult.”

“Me?” With a thumb, I pointed at my chest. Was he freaking kidding?

“Yes.You, Crabby. All glary and uptight and ‘these are the rules. Oh wait, one more,’” he mocked.

With my lips pressed into a firm line, I clenched my fists on my lap, ignoring the pain. I didn’t want to be this way, but Piper needed the structure. Plus, who was he to judge? “Better to be irresponsible and running my mouth like you?”

“Touché.” He smirked, and his brown eyes danced. Almost like he enjoyed arguing with me. But almost as quickly as it came, the amusement vanished from his face. “So since I was running my mouth, let me fix it. The kids go to the Revs’ day care for the time being. I’ve already cleared it with management. They’ll email the onboarding paperwork tomorrow, so stop making it a thing.”

I opened my mouth and shut it again. That might have been the worst apology I’d ever been given. And that was saying a lot after the half-assed apology I’d gotten from my ex-husband when he’d lied to me for over a year.

“I think the words you’re looking for arethank you.” Smirking, he sat back in his seat, his body relaxed, like he’d proven his point.

“Learn to read a room, dumbass. That’s not even close.” Seriously. And I’d almost apologized to this jerk?

“Listen.” He huffed a deep breath out of his nose and angled over the space between the two bucket seats so he was a little too close. “I’m working on being patient with you. Everything the Langfields have is the best. So, Little Fingers? Best day care in Boston. And I’ve secured spots for your kids. But because of your own stubbornness, you’re refusing?”

“That’s not?—”

“And,” he said, drawing the word out, “finding one that can handle a child with ASD on short notice?” He snorted. “Good fuckin’ luck.”

Sighing, I let my shoulders fall. Damn, it stung to admit he was right.

So I wouldn’t. Not out loud, at least. I wouldn’t let this asshole win. I lifted my chin and narrowed my eyes at him. “They can come to work with me for a while.”

With a snort, he dropped his head back against his headrest. “Bet you get a lot done that way.”

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