“Want to play?”
“Play?” Olivia appeared both nervous and excited, as though she wasn’t quite sure what he meant.
“Yeah. Play ball with me and your mom.”
Olivia’s head turned to Alice so quickly it was a wonder the torque didn’t knock her over. “Can we?”
Alice laughed, tugging the girl in against her side for a hug. “Of course we can. Did you think I’d drag you all the way out here to sit around?”
“I dunno.”
“No, silly goose.”
“I didn’t bring my glove, though.” She aimed her huge doe eyes at Alex, and in that one small gesture he was powerless to her. How young did women learn the ability to wrap a man around their finger? He thought he’d be nice to Olivia to prove her mother should date him, but now looking at the girl he realized he’d do just about anything to make her like him. Maybe it was a gift specific to the Darling women, because he’d certainly never wanted to impress his sisters this much.
“That’s okay. I have something for you.”
“For me?”
“Well, for both of you.” He directed them towards the dugout, where all the equipment he had bribed from the manager was neatly arranged, including Olivia’s new gear. Alex made a mental note to buy Tim, the equipment manager, a steak dinner. Not only was everything there, but Tim had added Felons player name tags along the wall, with Alex, Alice and Olivia all marked. They were stuck along the back wall of the dugout, with batting helmets and other bits neatly arranged.
The clever bastard had even wrangled up a Felons bat-boy jersey and hung it over Olivia’s bat.
Forget a steak dinner, Alex owed Tim a nice vacation for this.
“Whoa.” Olivia didn’t even wait for Alice’s permission before she ran down the dugout stairs and started assessing her new goodies. To be fair to the kid, her name was on them.
“Alex, this is… This might be too much.” Alice paused at the top of the steps, leaning against the chain-link fence and watching her daughter put the jersey on. The youth size was still a bit big on her, hanging almost down to her knees.
“How does it look?” Olivia asked, putting her hands on her hips in a nine-year-old approximation of a fashion-model pose.
“You look great. Very athletic.” Alice was visibly chewing the inside of her cheek, he could tell by the way her skin hollowed. There was something in her eyes he couldn’t quite read. Pain. A terrible sadness lingered behind her pale lashes, and she was trying her best to mask it with a smile.
“It’s not a big deal,” he assured her.
“Sure it is.”
He wasn’t sure what to say, so he took a step towards the dugout, but Alice’s hand shot out, grasping his wrist. Alex glanced back at her, and this time the smile had succeeded in blotting out the sadness.
“Thank you.”
He wanted to tell her again it was no biggie, but he had a feeling she was saying something much bigger than just thank you, only he had no idea what it was.
“You’re welcome.”
Chapter Thirteen
Alice carried her sleeping daughter from the ballpark to the car. Olivia’s new jersey had splashes of red pasta sauce on the front, something Alice knew she’d have to get out, otherwise the child would be heartbroken.
The evening had been a huge success, beyond anything she’d anticipated Alex might dream up. She figured he might take them to a movie, or a kid-friendly restaurant, but this, this had blown her mind. She had to give him credit for coming up with something totally original.
She just wasn’t sure what kind of credit he was hoping for.
Wrangling Olivia into the front seat, she managed to get the child buckled in without waking her. Alex hovered a few feet away, his hands shoved into his jeans pockets, watching her with the uneasy expectation of a teenager after a first date.
It was funny, seeing him nervous about the prospect of an end-of-date kiss, considering two nights earlier he’d had his dick in her. His uneasiness endeared him to her. Who was this guy? He certainly didn’t conform to any expectations she had, not only of ballplayers, but of men in general. Maybe that was all the proof she needed to prove her notions of men were totally screwed up.
Or maybe Alex was special.