Layne
THE AMOUNT OF screeching that came out of Gracie’s mouth when I told her we were flying to New York for the next three games still has my head ringing. I’d waited until the afternoon before to tell her. I knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep, but I needed her to help me pack, so I had to tell her. It took forever to get her to sleep.
The moment the wheels of the plane hit the ground, my stomach unclenches. I freaking hate flying. Bryant put us in first class, which was a first for me, and amazing. I’d been worried how Gracie would handle her first time in a plane, but she loved it.
Making our way through the terminal, I follow the signs heading for the baggage claim. I’m not paying much attention to the people around us and am speed walking toward where the conveyor is shooting out luggage when Gracie grabs my arm and stops walking.
“Mama, why does he have a sign with our name on it?” she squeaks out, bouncing on her toes.
Turning my attention to where her eyes are glued, I find an older gentleman holding a sign that reads “Layne & Gracie.” I grab Gracie’s hand and head in his direction.
“Hi there,” I address the man.
“Layne, I presume?” he asks with a kind smile.
“Yes, sir.”
“Mr. Nash requested I help you with your luggage and take you to the hotel.”
Gracie’s eyes are the size of saucers when she turns to me.
“Mr. Nash?” she screeches. I still haven’t figured out how to explain all of this to her.
“Shhh, baby. Calm down,” I plead with her, but she’s jumping around like a fish out of water.
“Let’s get your luggage, ma’am.”
The gentleman walks with us over to the carousel to retrieve our bags. He insists on carrying them and leads us outside to a large black SUV with blacked out windows. My heart is racing.
Why would he go through all this trouble?
WHEN THE BELLHOP opens the door to our room, my jaw drops open. This has to be a mistake. This is a suite. This place is nicer than my house, and probably bigger.
He takes our luggage into the living room area and sets them down beside the couch. As he walks to the door, I catch his head motion for me to follow.
When I reach him, he hands me an envelope with my name written on the front in unfamiliar handwriting.
He declines my tip money, stating it has already been taken care of. Of course it has. When I return to the living room, Gracie is already sprawled out on the couch, TV on, feet up on the coffee table like she lives here.
“Comfy?” I laugh out.
“Mama. This place is so cool!” she yells before jumping back up and hugging me tightly.
“It sure is, baby,” I reply into her hair. “I’m gonna go put our bags in our room.”
She bounces back onto the couch without another word. Grabbing our bags and clinging tightly to the envelope in my hand, I make my way into our room.
The second I’m alone, my fingers tear through the envelope like a crazy person. It has to be from Bryant.
Layne,
I hope your flight was good and the room is sufficient for you and Gracie. I’ve scheduled you a driver who will take you wherever you want to go while you’re here. You met him at the airport. :) His name is Stanley, and his number is on the card in the envelope.
If you need anything else while you are here, please let me know.
-Bryant
Oh, and P.S. – we have adjoining rooms. Come visit me whenever you can. I’ve left my side unlocked. If I’m not there, feel free to roll around in my bed… and leave any items you feel could help my game. ;)
My heart is beating about a thousand miles an hour. He’s right next door. Grabbing my phone, I shoot off a text to him.
Me: Are you in your room?
Considering he has a game tonight, I don’t expect an answer. He’s more than likely at practice. Right?
Nope.
Bryant: Are you here?
Me: Yes. Apparently, right next door.
Bryant: Go get ice.
My heart is beating a thousand miles a minute as I walk out into the living room where Gracie is still watching TV.
Stay calm.
“Hey, baby girl, I’m going to run down the hall and get ice and drinks. What kind do you want?”
“Lemonade.”
“I’ll be right back. Stay in the room, okay?”
“Okay, Mama,” she mumbles as she returns her attention to the Disney show she’s watching.
Making my way down the corridor, my breath catches when I see him at the end of the hall, leaning against the ice machine, a devious smile on his face. He’s obviously coming from practice or the gym because he is covered in sweat, and my breath catches when my body responds to his masculinity. He’s all man, and my mind instantaneously goes to what the weight of his body pressed down on top of mine would feel like.
Well, those thoughts escalated quickly.
When I’m almost to him, he takes the last few steps and pulls me into his embrace, burying his face in my hair.
“Damn, I’ve missed you,” he groans, squeezing me so tight I can barely breathe, and lifting me off my feet.
“Bryant,” I choke out, my legs dangling awkwardly beneath me.
Placing me back on my feet, he releases me from the hug but grabs my hand and brings it to his lips.
“I’m so happy you came.”
“Thank you so much for all of this. You went a little overboard though, don’t you think? The first-class seats, the driver, the suite. You didn’t have to do all of this. We’d have been happy at a Motel 6 and a taxi.”
“I know,” he replies quietly with a slow smile. “And the fact that you don’t expect it is another reminder of why I need you in my life.”
Looking up into his eyes, I feel stupid that I’m just now recognizing it. Bryant Nash is a celebrity. Since the moment we met, I’ve thought of nothing but myself and how this would all affect me and my life. Not once have I taken into consideration how hard it must be for him to trust people, to let people into his life, always having the fear they are only with him because he is a rich baseball player.
Jesus, I’m selfish.
I pull down on his hand, causing him to stumble forward slightly. Standing up on my toes, I press my lips firmly to his. Wrapping his arms around my waist, he stands up once again, causing my feet to leave the ground. Going with my instinct, I wrap my legs around his waist, which causes him to growl into my mouth and take a few steps.
When my back meets the wall and his pelvis pushes into me, the moan it elicits would embarrass me in any normal situation. But at the moment, I couldn’t care less. His hands find their way to my ass as he presses me into the wall, rolling his hips to let me know how much I’m affecting him too. When the hardness causes me to gasp, he pulls his mouth away and presses his forehead to mine.
“I wish I could take you right now,” he whispers. “I can feel your heat. I know you want this too.”
Trying to catch my breath, I open my eyes and notice he’s stepped into the alcove where the ice machine is so we aren’t on display in the hallway.
“If you hadn’t stopped, I’d probably have let you,” I reply hoarsely. “At least one of us has some sense.”
He chuckles as he presses several kisses along my neck.
“It’s scary that I could totally lose myself in you,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper.
His body tightens against me but doesn’t pull away.
“I’m already lost,” he admits, before continuing his trail of kisses down my collarbone.
When a throat clears behind us, Bryant’s body goes rigid and he drops me to my feet, pushing my body behind his, sheltering me from whoever is standing there.
“Excuse me,” a male voice stammers, followed by the sound of the ice machine spitting out ice. It seems like an eternity before the man walks away, but when I feel Bryant’s body start to shake with laughter, I know the man is gone.
“That was close,” he chokes out.
“Bryant,” I stammer. My heart is going a million miles a minute, and if Gracie wasn’t down this hall in a room by herself at this moment, I’d drag this beautiful man back into his room and do dirty, dirty things to him.
“Get some ice and go back to the room before I drag you into mine.” He chuckles as he pulls my body to his again, placing a quick kiss to my lips.
He picks the ice bucket up from the ground where I’d apparently dropped it and fills it halfway with ice before handing it to me and turning me in the direction of my room.
“I’ll see you in the stands tonight,” he murmurs into my ear from behind, where I can feel the warmth of his body against my back. He takes a deep breath in through his nose like he’s inhaling my scent, before he gently pushes me toward my room.
I don’t look back until I reach the door, and when I do, I almost trip because he’s right behind me.
Of course he is. His room is next door.
He chuckles under his breath as he opens his door, throwing a wink my way before shutting it behind him.
When I push through my own door, my thoughts are not on anything but what transpired in the hallway. Gracie looks at me with a huge smile, which drops when she looks at my hands, holding nothing but an ice bucket.
“Where is my lemonade, Mama?”
“The vending machine only had soda, baby. We’ll get you a lemonade when we go downstairs for lunch,” I reply, quickly trying to cover my mistake.
“Can I have a corndog for lunch? With French fries? And maybe a chocolate shake?” she blurts out, hopping up onto the couch in excitement.
I laugh at her enthusiasm. “We’ll see.”
“But, Mama! You said we were on vacation and we’re gonna do fun stuff. Corndogs, fries, and a shake is fun stuff.”
I shake my head and smile.
“You’re totally right. If the restaurant has them, we’ll do it.”
She squeals in delight and jumps up off the couch to hug me. The older she gets, the less she hugs me, so I’ll take them whenever and wherever I can get them.
A few minutes later, Gracie is enthralled in another episode of Crashletes, so I make my way through the suite, taking in all of the amenities. The kitchenette has a full-size fridge, coffee maker, and a microwave, along with a two burner stove. That’s different. I’m pretty sure I’ve never been in a hotel room with an actual stove. There is plenty of counter space to make a meal in here.
Opening the fridge, I can’t help the stupid smile that takes over my face.
It is completely filled with a fresh fruit tray, cheese sticks, cans of lemonade in several flavors, an assortment of sliced veggies, and a huge bottle of Hidden Valley Ranch dressing. The fact that he loaded this fridge with everything Gracie loves makes tears spring to my eyes. How he remembered these little things I’ve mentioned to him astonishes me. He hasn’t even officially met her yet, and he’s already trying to make her happy.
I hear Gracie come up behind me and squeak out a gasp.
“OMG! That fridge has all my favorites in it!” she screams as she basically pushes past me, thankfully not noticing the emotion written all over my face.
I watch as she pulls out a lemonade and a cheese stick and bounces back into the living room area.
Pulling my phone from my back pocket, I shoot off a text to him.
Me: You made a little girl so very happy. Thank you for the stocked fridge. Gracie almost burst my eardrums in her excitement.
I start to stuff my phone in my pocket but stop when it vibrates.
Mandy: Odie hates me.
Me: She doesn’t hate you, but you have to pet her once in a while and not call her Satan all the time.
Mandy: Nope, she hates me.
Me: I can’t wait to tell you all the wonderful things he’s done.
I see the bubbles showing she’s writing, but I can’t wait to tell her.
Me: First-class flight, driver at the airport, suite at the hotel… and he stocked the fridge with all of Gracie’s favorites.
The bubbles stop and I stare at my phone until I hear a knock at the door. Setting my phone down on the kitchen counter, I practically sprint to the door in case it’s Bryant.
I notice Gracie hasn’t moved from her spot on the couch since I saw her last. Throwing the door open, I am startled to find the driver, Stanley, standing there.
“Ms. Scott,” he starts. “I thought I would touch base with you on picking you up this afternoon for Mr. Nash’s game, which is at 4:00 p.m. How does around two sound?”
The first thing I noticed about him at the airport is he has kind eyes. He looks to be in his mid- to late-fifties, and always has a brilliant smile on his face.
“That sounds great. We’re going to head down and have lunch here in a few minutes and then maybe rest for a bit before we leave for the game since we got up so early for our flight.”
He nods in understanding before handing me his card. “In case you change your mind, here is my card with my numbers on it. Feel free to call me whenever you need assistance.” He takes a step back from the doorway before continuing. “If I don’t hear from you before 2:00 p.m., I’ll meet you downstairs in the lobby to take you to the game.”
“Thank you,” I reply, watching as he walks back down the hallway to the elevators after a quick “you’re welcome.”
My heart cracks open for Bryant a little bit more.
AFTER LUNCH AND a brief nap, I have Gracie call Garrett and Chrissy to tell them all of the things that are happening. I really want to tell her all of this is happening because of Bryant but something in the back of my mind keeps telling me I need to wait. That a perfect time will come for me to explain everything to her.
When 2:00 p.m. rolls around, Gracie can hardly sit still, and my stomach is so tied up in knots I feel like I might puke. We are going to the third game in the World Series in New York City to watch the man I’m dating play in it. How is this our life?
Stanley opens the door to the SUV for us, and we slide in quickly. Gracie can hardly sit still the entire ride to the stadium, and when he pulls up to an entrance marked as “VIP Entrance Only,” my brain is unable to focus on what is happening.
“Are you sure this is the right entrance for us, Stanley?” I ask weakly.
“Yes, ma’am. The attendant will escort you to your seats.”
He opens the door for us, and sure enough, an attendant is standing front and center with a huge smile on her face, ready to take us to our seats.
“This is out of control,” I mumble to myself.
“Mama!” Gracie shrieks from beside me.
“Baby, you have got to quit screaming,” I say with a laugh. My head is already pounding with the enormity of it all, and her volume is adding to it.
“Sorry,” she whisper-shouts. “Look at where she is taking us!”
When my brain finally catches up with my feet, I realize she is taking us down to the seats right behind the Smoke’s dugout.
No freaking way!
These seats are thousands of dollars. Thousands!
The attendant stops directly behind the dugout, pointing to our seats.
Holy shit.
When Gracie turns to me with tears in her eyes, I know it’s time to tell her about Bryant. She needs to know we’re experiencing this because of him. She hugs me tight before sitting in her seat and looking around the stadium, mesmerized.
Taking my phone from my pocket, I quickly type out a text to Garrett.
Me: I think I’m ready to tell Gracie about Bryant and me dating. What are your thoughts?
I sit down beside her, ruffling my hand through her already crazy hair. She smacks my hand away before putting the elastic band from her wrist and throwing her hair up into a ponytail.
When my phone vibrates, I turn to the side so Gracie can’t read it.
Garrett: I agree. Do it.
Me: Thank you! :)
Turning my body to face hers, I grab her hand, which causes her to pull her eyes away from the field and to me.
“Baby, I need to talk to you about something.”
“Okay. What?” Her happiness is palpable.
“I know we didn’t talk about how we were able to do all of this,” I start, but she quickly interrupts.
“I was gonna ask you that because when we talked about it before, you said it was too expensive and we couldn’t go.”
“You’re right. I did say that,” I reply, trying to get the words right in my head before trying to explain things to her. “You see, sweetie, I met Bryant Nash a few months ago and we became friends.”
Her face lights up and she’s bouncing again. “How did you meet him?” she screeches.
“Well, he came into our bar after a game and we started talking.”
Gracie’s sole focus is on what I’m saying, although her excitement is making her jittery and she’s now standing.
“The thing is, Bryant and I have decided to start dating.”
I’m not sure how I expect her to react. I don’t even think an eight-year-old understands what dating means, do they?
“Wait a minute,” she hollers. “You’re Bryant Nash’s girlfriend now?”
“Baby, please stop screaming,” I remind her. “I need you to stay calm so we can talk about this.”
“Are you going to marry him?”
“Gracie, sit down,” I state firmly. People are starting to fill in around us and we need to finish this conversation quickly. We can talk about the details later.
“I’m not his girlfriend and we aren’t getting married. We are going to be spending some time together so we can get to know each other better.”
The smile on her face is immeasurable.
“This makes me happy, Mama. He’s a nice man. You deserve a nice man, like Daddy deserves a nice lady like Chrissy.”
Simple. Honest. Gracie has spent a total of eight years watching him play baseball and approximately two minutes of actual conversation with him, but she already can sense he’s a good person.
People fill in quickly, and she is so excited she doesn’t push the conversation further, for which I’m thankful.
The attendant who brought us to our seat comes back about twenty minutes before the game is supposed to start.
“Ms. Scott, would you or your daughter like anything from the concession stand?” she asks politely. The older gentleman sitting next to me turns toward me, looking confused.
“Wait, do these seats get attendants who bring things?” the man practically shouts.
“No, I’m sorry, sir. She is a special guest of one of the players. He arranged the VIP treatment,” she responds kindly with a smile.
The guy smiles kindly at me before turning his attention back to the field.
“Gracie, would you like something from the snack bar?”
“Popcorn, Mama, and a soda pop. Can I have a Dr. Pepper?” she squeals.
I don’t let her drink soda except for a few times a year on special occasions. Being at the World Series is definitely a special occasion.
“She’ll have a Dr. Pepper, small please, and a small tub of popcorn. I’ll have a bottle of water and one of those soft pretzels.”
He smiles and walks away. I can feel the guy next to me staring at me, but I don’t turn to him.
“Special guest of one of the players, huh?” he asks. “How’d you get that gig?”
“Actually, he’s a friend and knows my daughter loves baseball and is crazy excited they are in the World Series this year, so he got us tickets.”
“How wonderful. Must be a pretty great friend. These seats are almost impossible to get.”
“He’s pretty amazing,” I tell him honestly.
He smirks before turning his attention to the man with him, who looks like a younger version of him. Must be his son.
Gracie and I are watching the teams warm up when our snacks and drinks arrive. I haven’t been able to take my eyes off of Bryant since they ran out onto the field thirty minutes ago. He hasn’t looked this way, and I know it’s because he’s focusing.
When the coaches start pulling their teams into their respective dugouts, my heart starts beating a million miles a minute. They’re heading straight for us. Well, the dugout, but we are sitting directly behind it. I can’t tear my eyes away from his face. He looks so serious. Fully focused. With only a few feet left before he reaches the entry to the dugout, his eyes swing up to meet mine, and I smile brightly at him, right before he smirks, winks, and then disappears.
I’m so focused on him I don’t notice Conor is right behind him until he shouts, “Hi, Gracie!” He’s waving like a lunatic with a huge smile on his face.
Turning my eyes to her, I can’t help the laugh that bursts out of me. My daughter is speechless. That never happens. Her eyes are the size of dinner plates and her mouth is hanging open.
“Mama! Conor McLoughney said hi to me!” she screams when Conor disappears inside.
“I know, baby. I’m sitting right here.”
“How does he know my name? Are you dating him too?”
The guy next to me chuckles.
“No, baby. He is Bryant’s best friend, remember? You told Bryant about Conor being your favorite player when he came to the hospital to see you. Remember?”
She looks like she’s in deep thought before she shakes her head. “Oh yeah. I forgot about that.”
She still has trouble remembering much about the two days she was in the hospital. She may not even remember Bryant coming, but we told her he did when she woke up with the bear he brought her.
Now that the game is about to start, the stadium is alive with noise. I can feel the energy flowing through this place. It’s almost vibrating with excitement. I take in the people around us. Everyone is decked out in their team’s gear, and the screaming has already started.
The moment the Smoke take the field, Gracie stands and screams. “Go, Colorado!”
She’s bouncing up and down, so I take the popcorn from her hands so she doesn’t throw it everywhere.
The first few innings are pretty quick. Both teams’ pitchers are amazing and haven’t given up a single hit. When Conor steps up to bat in the top of the fourth inning, Gracie grabs my hand and squeezes it, her eyes glued to Conor.
The first two pitches are strikes he doesn’t swing at, but the third is apparently exactly where Conor wants it because the moment his bat connects with the ball, I know it’s gone. He does too because when he tosses the bat toward the dugout, his face is split in the biggest smile.
“And the first score on the board is a home run by Conor McLoughney, ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer hollers.
The stadium is going crazy. Gracie is jumping up and down again, covering her ears because of the noise, but refusing to wear the earmuffs.
When he heads to the dugout, he throws Gracie two thumbs up, which she returns with enthusiasm.
The pitcher is frustrated, and it shows in his next couple of pitches. McKay hits a single, followed immediately by Rodrigues who gets hit with the pitch. I can’t even imagine the pain of getting hit in the back with a hundred-mile-an-hour fastball. He and the pitcher have words as Rodrigues jogs to first. Luckily, it’s loud enough in here we can’t hear them. I’m sure their words aren’t Gracie appropriate.
When Bryant steps up to the plate, I scoot to the edge of my seat, rubbing my clammy hands on my jeans. I’m so nervous for him my stomach is in knots.
He steps up to the plate, looking completely calm and composed. First pitch, he swings and misses. Stepping back out of the batter’s box to readjust his helmet, I can see his lips moving. I’ve watched him play ball for so many years, so I know he does this when he’s trying to calm himself down.
He steps back up to the plate, his face focused and hard. The pitcher releases the ball, and I know the moment he lifts his front foot slightly off the ground, he’s either going to kill it, or hurt himself when he misses. The man has one hell of a swing.
The crack of the bat has Gracie and me on our feet in a flash. We watch as the ball drops right between center and right field, both players scrambling for it. We’re both screaming like crazy as McKay hits home and Rodrigues rounds second heading for third. Bryant slides into second as the second baseman has to jump to catch the ball. Safe.
Bryant is dusting off his pants when he looks up for a split second and smiles before returning his attention to the field.
The next two batters strike out and the inning ends with us leading two to zero.
And that’s the end score five innings later.
Smoke wins game three.