Page 97 of Playboy Pitcher
And with good reason. It’s dangerous enough she’s here at all. But to be out and about on her own, especially around the stadium where anyone could…
Shit.
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I take a deep breath before I lose it. “Emma! I told you not to leave—”
“Not to leave the house, I know,” she groans. “Have you ever been to jail, Ben?”
Uh-oh.I glance up as Ben pins me with a knowing look. “Only once.”
Yeah, because of me.
She slaps her palm onto the table. “Then you know being locked up sucks. Try being locked up for ten years.” I have half a mind to send her to her room when she sniffles, her voice softening. “Sue me for wanting to meet the guy my sister ran off and married. Plus, it was nice to talk baseball with someone who doesn’t snap my head off at the mention of the word.”
I have no defense to that, so I remain silent. Baseball ruined my life. The last thing I wanted it to do was ruin hers.
Instead,Idid.
As if sensing the mood in the room tanking, Emma slumps back in her chair, smiling innocently as she throws out a curveball. “So, Benson, since you married my sister for her money, does that mean I have to call you Daddy?”
Ben’s fork hits the floor as he chokes on a noodle.
I cover my face. “Em…”
“What? It’s a legitimate question.”
Finally swallowing the food lodged in his throat, Ben coughs before downing half his wine. There’s a brief wrinkle in his confidence as his eyes dart toward me. “She knows?”
Oh yeah. I forgot to mention that part.
Emma grins, pride smeared all over her face. “It seems the whole thing was my idea. Indirectly, of course.”
Poor Ben looks traumatized, but all I can do is shrug and smile. “I trust Emma. You can too.”
As Ben and Emma carry on a conversation like they’ve been best friends their whole lives, I can’t help but think about what she said earlier.
Maybe thereisanother way for this to end. One where this warm feeling in my chest doesn’t have to die. One where this bond they’ve forged gets to blossom and grow. One where trust and love aren’t words shunned into a dark corner.
One where I can leap and not lose the one thing I won’t risk.
Even for the man I’m falling for.
“So,” Emma says, pulling me out of my thoughts. “About that daddy thing…”
Ben just chuckles. “Ben will be fine.” They continue to chat about baseball stats and pitching styles and who screwed up in the World Series as I clear the dishes and bring out dessert—nothing fancy like a lemon blueberry trifle. Just a store-bought chocolate cake, Emma’s favorite.
“Thanks, sis,” she says, her eyes lighting up. “By the way, speaking of cake, did you know this old lady turns twenty-nine in twelve days?”
“Emma…” I groan.
Ben’s eyebrows shoot up. “Really?”
“Technically, yes, but it’s just another day. They were never a big deal around my house. Another year, so what.”
“That’s only because you and Mom shared the same birthday, and it pissed her off. You know how she was, Will. Everything always had to be about her.”
“So, your mom was Brigitte Cadieaux?” he asks her, but his eyes are locked on me. “How did you two end up together?”
“Emma,” I say, standing up so quickly, I knock my knee against the table. “Don’t you have homework to do?
