Caught Up (Windy City, #3)

by Liz Tomforde

She’s fucking stunning, all earth tones and tattooed skin glistening under the moonlight.

“This feels pretty inspirational.” She’s not wrong. It’s stunning out here. Both the view and the girl I shouldn’t be looking at.

“Dear God, Kai. No wonder you have a kid. Just looking at you like this would get any woman pregnant.”

“You should know by now that ignoring me isn’t going to make me forget, Kai.” Her tone is even, confident. “You’re a fantastic dad. And if someone needs to tell you, I’ll be the one to do it.”

“What happened with Max’s mom?” “Are you using your body to distract me?” “Is it working?”

Our legs tangle under the water, our skin sliding against one another. The water is plenty warm, but I feel the line of goosebumps scatter up Miller’s spine underneath my palm. Hand snaking around her hip, her legs hook around my waist, eyes slowly dipping to my lips because they’re far too close to hers.

“Ask your questions.” “Why have you fired every one of his nannies?” She doesn’t hesitate, but I do. My head drops, Miller’s thighs right there in front of me, and I have to fist my hands to keep from touching them. “Can I tell you why?” she quietly asks. “I think you want to stop playing baseball. I think you’re so worried you’re going to miss out on the big moments, that Max’s caretaker is going to be the first one to experience them. I think you’re so hung up on what you did miss that you’re desperate not to miss any more.” Inhaling through my nose, I back away in the water because we’re far too close and she’s seeing far too much. “I know what it’s like to notice your parents’ absence,” I tell her. “The day I was drafted, Isaiah was the only one in the crowd for me, and it was the same thing when it was his turn. I was also the only one there for him when he got his driver’s license or when he had his heart broken for the first time. The last thing I’ll ever be is an absentee dad. I won’t miss the important stuff, and even more, I don’t want to miss the everyday, insignificant moments. I want them all.”

“Where were your parents?” “My mom died.” “So did mine.” My eyes jerk to hers as she sits on the ledge. “Cancer,” she says. “Car accident.”

“He’s not my biological dad.”

“He adopted me.” She wipes the water droplets from her face. “The day before she died, my mom asked him to adopt me. It was a ridiculous thing to ask of him. He was twenty-five years old, playing professional baseball. I was simply his girlfriend’s kid, but he did it anyway. My mom was a single mom, raised me on her own up until then. My biological father was a one-night thing. Monty adopted me, we changed my last name to his because she wanted us to. He left the league and took a college coaching job to take care of me because I didn’t have anyone else. It’s the most selfless thing anyone has ever done for me, and I feel terrible about it.”

“He’s worried you’ll retire the same way he did,” she continues. It’s something I think about daily. It would take away a lot of the stress I carry. Sure, I’d be giving up a career I love, but it’d be to do a job I love even more. “Don’t,” she whispers. “Take it from the child of someone who gave up exactly what you’re thinking of giving up. Max will live with that guilt for the rest of his life.”

He’d give up everything for his kid, the same way I would. How does she not get that? There’s a different kind of love that comes into your life when you have a child. Monty didn’t sacrifice his career, he simply changed directions because of how much he loved that little girl. So much so that he carries her softball photo to every away game so he can place it on his desk to see her.

“I didn’t tell you because you and I are not the same.” “We are exactly the same in that regard, Monty. You retired to take care of your kid. Why can’t I?” “Because I wasn’t you, Ace. I didn’t have your level of talent. I wasn’t your age. I didn’t have the kind of help you have. Why do you think I’ve been so adamant about the organization making this work for you? I know how hard it is. Fuck, Kai, I know what you’re going through, but you’re not alone in this. I was.” Shit. “I didn’t tell you because you’re looking for a reason to retire,” he continues. “I wasn’t going to give you one. If you didn’t love playing anymore, I’d help you pack your bags right now, but I see it. The look you have on the nights you’re pitching. How much you love being with Isaiah again. You still love the game.”

You’ve got a hell of a lot of people in your corner.” For someone who has always felt alone in my responsibilities, never having anyone else to rely on, it’s not easy for me to see the help around me. But it’s there. There’s not a single soul on this team or staff who wouldn’t go out of their way for me or my son. I tend to wallow in self-pity, telling myself I’m alone in this, but I’m not. I nod. “Sometimes I forget to look.” “Well, you spent a lot of years looking and coming up empty, so I don’t blame you, but that’s not the case anymore.”

“Hey, Rhodes!” someone yells from the quickly-filling stands. “Your ass looks good in those baseball pants!”

“You look like a kangaroo wearing him like that.” “But like a hot kangaroo, yeah?” She passes Max to me over the barrier as I stay silent, not answering her question that’ll get me in trouble. Because yes, her carrying my son around, even if she’s doing it in a weird Miller way, is one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen.

My heart physically aches, but it’s not from the time away or the missed moments with my son. It’s because for the first time since Max came into my life, I feel like I could have it all.

“If you’re going to start coming to my games, I better see Rhodes on your back and I’m not talking about my brother.” “Is this some athlete kink you got? Need to see a girl in your jersey?” The old flirty side of me that I’ve kept hidden and locked down for the most part since Max came into my life is itching to break free. I pop my shoulders. “I like to see pretty girls in my jersey. Like to take it off them too.”

He loves her. It’s obvious in the way he looks at her, in the way he reaches for her when she’s near. She brings him a comfort he was missing, and she equally brings me the same, knowing how well they get along.

Miller stands by the door, all warm and glistening from the sun she got, and suddenly an overwhelming urge to kiss her rolls over me. She’s so pretty and so ridiculous sometimes but seeing her with Max today, and knowing she brought him so I could have the two things I love in one place, has me feeling far too attached to the girl that only a couple of weeks ago I wanted gone.

“You should come.” I choke on my own saliva because Miller is fucking Miller and said that with so much innuendo, it’d be impossible not to pick up on the alternate meaning.

“You can lie to anyone else, including yourself, but don’t try to bullshit me. I’ve known you since the day our wonderful mother blessed the world with me, and I haven’t seen you watch a woman the way you watch Miller in far too long. Hell, maybe ever.”

She looks like a grown-ass woman who knows exactly what she wants.” He pats my leg as he stands from the couch. “And that, my brother, would be you.”

“You look hot.” I didn’t think too much of my jeans and button-down while I was getting ready, but now I’m categorizing this as an outfit I need to repeat at my earliest convenience. “You don’t look half bad yourself, Montgomery.” Understatement of the fucking year. She always looks good. In the overalls, the chef’s coat, or this sinfully tight pair of jeans. I’ve just spent our time together trying not to notice.

“Is that what you need to hear, Miller? That I think you’re hot? Do you really need to hear me say I can’t keep my fucking eyes off you when you’re in the room, or have you finally picked up on that?” Her body stiffens and from behind, I watch her throat move in a long swallow. “No. I like watching you beat yourself up over wanting to look at me. It’s much more satisfying to know I piss you off than it would be to know I turn you on.” A small laugh rumbles in my chest. “Well, much to my frustration you, Miller, are excellent at both.”

“The other night you told me you had a wild streak. I want to see it. C’mon, Baseball Daddy, it’s time to find the other half of that balance I promised you—the fun.” He leisurely wanders my way, but his long legs move much quicker than mine. With a single finger hooked into the waistband of my jeans, he not only stops me from getting farther away from him, but he pulls me back until my chest slams into his. Oh, there’s no doubt in my mind, tonight is going to be fun. He wets his bottom lip with a slick slide of his tongue. “What kind of fun are we talking about here?” Jesus. I’m trying to hold it together, I really am, but all I can think about is climbing his giant body like a tree.

“You okay? You were so confident only a minute ago. You’re not going to gag, are you?” I pop my shoulders. “Hopefully later.” He shakes his head—his typical move when I’ve said something that’s caught him off guard. “You flirting with me, Montgomery?” “Have been since we met. You gonna start flirting back?”

“Us men are simple creatures. Jealousy does wonders. I figured I’d take you for a twirl, let a few of the guys have a song or two and maybe we’d get the less attractive Rhodes brother to be selfish for a moment and stand up for what he wants. And I’m only roping you into this because, and correct me if I’m wrong, but you want him too.”

“Dean Cartwright is here? They couldn’t have picked a different bar?” “What’s going on?” I look around all four of them for an answer. “Daddy over here beat the shit out of that one”—Isaiah points to a group of men with eerily similar builds to the ones I’m with—“last year when we played Atlanta.”

“If I were to tell the truth, I’d say it bothers me enough that I’ve been spending my entire evening watching you and plotting a way to get Monty to trade him.”

we all have our limits now, don’t we?” “And I’m yours?” His eyes trail my face, once again landing on my lips. “I think you might be.”

As one song ends and the next begins, one of the outfielders spins me into the next teammate’s pair of awaiting arms. Only this time the person who grabs me isn’t one of the guys from the team. It’s Dean Cartwright—the player from Atlanta.

“I’ve never been able to fuck with Ace before.” “I’m playing nice, but don’t you dare let that hand slip any further.” He simply smiles. “I should’ve said I’ve never been able to fuck with Ace until tonight.” Huh? I can feel Kai’s presence long before I see him. When he makes it to us, he pushes Dean’s chest into the crowd, breaking the hold he has on me. “Get your fucking hands off her.”

“Does your coach know you’re foaming at the mouth over his daughter?” I shake my head. “Fuck you. It’s not like that. She’s just the nanny.” I fucking hate the words as soon as they’re out of my mouth. He simply laughs. “Nice work. You can’t even blame that fuckup on me.”

“That’s never been me. I just…fuck, I hated seeing his hands on you. If you want to know the old me, he was known to take care of his people no matter how recklessly he did it.” My people. Her.

I’m not your problem to worry about.” Turning, she heads back up the way we came, but I stop her, pinning her against the wall, the two of us meeting on the same stair. “Yes, the fuck you are.” She stares right at me, not backing down. “Kai, I am not your problem.” My attention dips to her lips. “Be my problem.” Swallowing, she tilts her head, testing me. “Then do something to make me your problem.” Fuck me. I’m so frustratingly into this woman, so I do just that. I make her my problem. There’s nothing soft or sweet about the way my mouth crashes onto hers because there’s nothing soft or sweet about Miller. She aggravates me, pushes me, challenges me. And according to the way her mouth yields to mine—she wants me.

“Kai.” She adds a soft kiss on my lips, pulling back to look at me. “I’m leaving soon.”

I felt it in the way he kissed me because I’ve never been kissed like that—longed for. Needed. And I knew I had to give him the opportunity to take it all back if he couldn’t handle more.

“It was nice to remember the old me for a second.” More like it was nice for him to remember he doesn’t want to go back to the life he had before Max.

“Your dad is passed out in my bed.”

“Would you mind if I slept in your bed tonight?”

“It’s my skin care, thank you very much. You should probably look into getting some. I’ve heard they have specific lines for mature skin.” “I can’t wait to give you shit when you’re in your thirties.” Except he won’t know me then. He won’t remember me then either.

“He doesn’t even know he has a grandchild.”

“My mom was already doing a lot of the heavy lifting in the family, so when she died, instead of stepping up, my dad drank himself stupid. Left me in charge of my thirteen-year-old brother when I was still a kid myself. I didn’t even have a driver’s license yet.”

“I’m not angry, and I don’t miss him, but I do miss how our family used to be. Everything was so different before my mom died, that the hardest part has been knowing what a good family unit looked like and no longer having it. I’m just trying to give Max a bit of what I lost.”

“I want Max to think of me the way you think of him.”

“I looked you up online last week.” My head whips in his direction, a teasing smile on my lips. “Just last week? I figured you would’ve done that the second I walked out of my dad’s hotel room on that first day.” “Your food is beautiful, Miller. It’s artwork.”

“Kai Rhodes, how much stalking did you do exactly?” “Just enough to figure out you’re a big fucking deal.”

“God if I know. That’s what we as a society have been conditioned to do, right? Keep striving for the next best thing instead of finding gratitude and peace where we are.”

“The pressure,” I continue. “It feels heavy. Suffocating, almost.