Page 3 of Rocking Player
We could see them lining up to go on the field and I said without looking, “I see.”
The next man on the huge Jumbotron had that chiseled chin I’d never forget. Jeremy had inherited it.
"That’s Michael Irons," Jeremy added the name I’d wondered about for years.
Adrenaline coursed through me as I glanced toward the field and saw the player in question.
The player who’d rocked my world.
Irons spit out whatever was in his mouth and waved to the crowd as I asked with an almost breathless voice, “Who?”
“He’s the shortstop and has the best batting average in the league.”
Shortstop. MVP. Weekend fling. Father of my son. My heart trembled,
I grabbed my soda from its holder and said, “Jeremy, we need to go.”
His gaze narrowed, and he didn’t move. “What’s going on?”
“Get up.”
I pushed at him. If he saw me, I’d find out in a second if he even remembered our moment. I’d had my memories and his son. We needed to leave. Now.
He didn’t move from his seat. “Mom, we just got here.”
My skin had chills as I grabbed my son’s arm. “I’ll explain later. Please run.”
He stood, shook his head at me, and put his hands in his pockets. “Mom, we’re here, and you promised to take me to a game. Your phone didn’t ring, so nothing happened to anyone.”
A warmness stirred in my belly as someone came behind me, probably for their seats next to us as I tugged my son and said, “I’ll get better tickets tomorrow.”
“Mom, turn around,” Jeremy said as his eyes widened.
My skin had goosebumps it hadn’t had in a long time. “Why?”
He pointed and said like he couldn’t quite breathe, “It’s Michael Irons, the shortstop.”
I turned around and stared into the stormy blue eyes of Michael, Jeremy’s father.
“I never thought I’d see you again.”
I’d stopped looking for any signs of my vacation romance years ago.
I never should have stopped. His hand wrung the hat he held in his hands as he asked, “Georgiana? I never got your last name?”
That was it?
I’d played this scenario over a thousand times in my head, but I stilled and just said, “Michael, hi.”
Jeremy now took my hand. “Mom, do you know Michael?”
Not once had I imagined the muscular man in my bed had been a baseball player. I probably should have guessed he was an athlete, as he was still all muscles, but somehow even sexier than my memory.
Maybe it was the skintight pants.
My face felt hot as I said, “No. I mean, yes. Kind of. We met years ago, on vacation, before I had you.”
Michael stared at Jeremy and then at me. He widened his stance. He knew.
