Page 8 of Passed Ball

"I have no fu--" His mouth slams shut and his eyes squeeze closed. His shoulders rise with his deep intake of breath and his lips move as he silently counts to three. "I couldn't tell you."

"Where'd the hot nanny go?" Braxton Hayes, the Bandits' resident troublemaker, shouts from the dugout, a shit-eating grin on his face.

Xavier whips around to face him, clearly pissed.

"We're going to take a walk while you figure this out," Dean says, lifting the baby from Xavier's arms without waiting for permission.

"What the hell do you know about it, Hayes?" Xavier snaps, once his daughter is out of earshot.

"I knowallabout Carly. She's fun. You take her for a spin yet, old man?"

My stomach churns at the way Braxton talks about a woman I don't even know.

Xavier steps forward, bumping against my arm as he does. "You've gotta be kidding me. What the hell did you do to her?"

"Nothing she didn't ask me to. In fact, she wanted more . . ." He clicks his tongue. "But I don't do repeats, which I told her when she cornered me outside the locker room earlier."

Xavier lunges forward and my hand shoots out before I can stop it, my fingers clasping around his wrist to stop him. "Don't. He's not worth it."

"Shit," he growls from somewhere deep in his chest, pressing the heel of his other hand into his eye.

This is a mess. The last thing I need is the kids witnessing a fight between two players they idolize. I spring into action, dropping my hand from Xavier's arm to grab my phone. "Hey, Tenley," I say when my niece answers on the first ring. "Are you busy?" After Braxton's stunt, I don't want him near my kids. I'll take Xavier and his terrible choice in nannies over that asshole.

"Can you come to the Bandit's stadium? I need help with an event today . . . Thanks, I owe you." I hang up and turn to Xavier, who's still as shell-shocked as he was when he realized no one was there to watch his daughter.

"No more drama today," I say firmly. "I know it's not your fault, but I have to consider what's best for my campers."

I stand my ground, trying to be firm, but then he looks at me wearing that lost expression, and tiny cracks form in my resolve.

As quick as I notice the fracture, I reinforce the walls I've built to protect myself. His problems aren't mine to fix--I've done that my whole life. And now that I'm finally living on my terms--away from my family's vineyard and embracing the freedom I love, I refuse to get sucked back into being a people pleaser.

"I hear you." His shoulders slump. He looks so contrite, so utterly defeated. It's heartbreaking, but it's not my problem.

Straightening my spine, I stand tall. "Glad we're on the same page. My niece will be here in twenty minutes to help. She's great with kids," I add, though she had little choice. When I left for college she stepped in to help with younger siblings and cousins, just like I had before her.

"I know I'm not in a position to make demands, but she stays here with Holland. I'm sure she's capable, but I don't know you or your niece well enough to let her walk away with the most important thing in my world."

Some of the cockiness I remember bubbles to the surface as he asserts himself. Damn it, why does my pulse quicken seeing him advocate for his daughter like that? I shove the unwanted attraction down.

"You're not in a position to negotiate. Either take the help I'm offering, or I'll find another volunteer. But if it makes you feel better, Holland and Tenley aren't going anywhere. She'll stay here with her while we run the camp, if that works for you."

"Yeah. That's fine." A weak cry comes from Dean's arms, where he's pacing the baseline with Holland. Xavier tracks his teammate as he adjusts his daughter. "And, uh, thanks for the help. I . . . um . . . owe you." Xavier's voice is distracted.

"You do. But I doubt you have anything I'm interested in," I call back.

Chapter 3

Xavier

How the hell did I manage to make a complete ass of myself in front of Vivienne Cardoza again? Every time I see her something goes wrong, or my brain short-circuits and all my blood rushes to the wrong place.

At this point, there's no way Vivienne doesn't hate me, and I don't blame her.

She might be wrong about me, but she's right about one thing: she saved my ass. Only now, I'm drowning in the mess Braxton left behind, scrambling to find a new nanny and figure out how to repay Vivienne.

I want to knock him on his ass for what went down with Carly, but I can't take any more heat for my own problems today.

Vivi rolls her lips, watching me for a beat like she wants to say more, before turning sharply toward the dugout. She leans against the far side of the railing, studying the guys like she's bored, but I catch the curl of a manicured finger as she zeros in on Braxton. "Over here, rookie."

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