Easy Charm by Kristen Proby
“Hello?”
Silence and then the call ends. This is getting incredibly annoying.
I hurry to the kitchen and then stop dead in my tracks at the scene before me.
Derek is splashing in two inches of water on my kitchen floor, getting both him and Sam wet. My dishwasher is moaning and making the craziest noise I’ve ever heard.
Why didn’t I just replace it, rather than have it repaired? It’s not like I can’t afford it. What the hell is wrong with me?
“Is that dog poop on my kitchen floor?” I yell, pointing to the pile just outside the edge of the water line.
“Sorry,” Sam says, then giggles when Derek splashes him. “He didn’t mean it.”
“Get him outside. Now.” I scrub my fingers through my scalp, and then reach for a mop and sanitary wipes to clean up the mess.
And then my phone rings. Again. I wouldn’t answer the unknown number, but it could be a guest.
“Hello.”
Now my patience is wearing very, very thin. “Hello, damn it!”
Click.
“You know what?” I rant and pace over to the fridge, open it, and set the phone inside. “I’m done with this. I need to put it out of sight out of mind for a bit. I have poop—poop, for God’s sake—to clean up, a lake to sop up, and I can’t find my goddamn iPad!”
I take care of the stinky mess made by the formerly cutest puppy ever, and get busy mopping up water, working quickly because guests should be arriving soon.
And just when I think the last of the water is gone, I hear a very familiar, horrifying crash upstairs.
“Oh, crap!” I hear Sam yell outside. Yep, he’s broken another window. “Mom, Derek threw the ball through the window!”
I bend over the countertop, bury my face in my arms, and pray for a martini and about four more of me.
This is the day from hell.
***
“I can’t believe Sam broke another window, on top of everything else,” Beau says with a chuckle, earning a glare from me. “Not that it’s funny.”
“It’s not funny,” I reply, but then can’t help but let out a tiny giggle. “Okay, it’s kind of funny now.”
“We’ll replace the dishwasher,” he says.
“Don’t tell her how to run her business,” Van says as she bustles into the kitchen with an empty plate from the wine hour in the sitting room. “She has this handled.”
“Clearly, I don’t.”
“Today was just a crappy day, sugar,” Van says and pulls me in for a big hug that feels so good. I didn’t even realize how badly I needed it until right now. “Go to bed. I’ll finish up with this. There’s only an hour left anyway. You could use the rest.”
“Are you sure?”
“Wow, she is tired if she’s barely putting up a fight,” Beau says. “Yes, go. Oh, here’s my iPad.”
I frown at it. “Just leave it on my desk. I’ll deal with it in the morning.”
Beau nods just as Sam sticks his head around the doorjamb. “Derek doesn’t want to go to sleep.”
“And here we go,” I mutter.
“I can deal with this,” Van says, but I shake my head.
“No, I’ll put them to bed, then go that way myself. Thank you for this.”
“Good night.”
“Come on.” I take Sam’s tiny hand in mine and lead him to his bedroom, where Derek is dead asleep, under the covers, with his head on Sam’s pillow. “Scared, huh?”
Sam nods solemnly.
I glance at the chair in the corner of the room that I used to rock Sam in, and rather than over think it, I lift the sleeping puppy and give him to Sam, then lift Sam and settle in the chair with my boy and his pup in my arms.
“What are we doing?” Sam whispers.
“We’re going to rock for a little while. Want me to sing?”
He yawns and nods, petting Derek, who isn’t even aware that he’s been moved. Infants and puppies sleep like the dead.
You are my sunshine, my only sunshine…
I begin to rock slowly and softly sing the song that my daddy sang to me when I was a little girl. I’ve sang this song for Sam since the day he was born. It soothes us both.
And for some reason, I need soothing.
It’s not because it was a craptastic day. I’ve had plenty of those.
I miss Rhys.
And he’s been gone for twelve hours.
Sam nuzzles against me and breathes deeply, falling asleep, and I just rock and hum for a long while, enjoying the way my sweet baby feels in my arms. The demon puppy is cute too, curled up on Sam’s chest, snoring softly.
This. This, right here, is the most important part of my life, and I’ll do good to remember that.
Finally, I stand and lay Sam in his bed. I leave Derek with him, resigned that I’ll lose the no puppies in beds rule.
After all, what’s the harm?
Once in my own room, I change into pajamas, brush my hair, and search for my phone on my way to the bed. God, I’m so damn tired, but I would like to hear Rhys’s voice before I fall asleep, and I haven’t spoken to him all day.
But I have no idea where I left my phone, and honestly, I’m just too tired to go hunt for it.
So I fall into bed, curl into a ball, and simply crash into sleep.
Chapter Thirteen
~Rhys~
“You’re doing great, Rhys,” Doc says as he sits at the conference table with me, Coach, and the trainers for the team. “The PT you’ve been doing is working. The muscle is healing nicely.”
“I feel one hundred percent,” I reply honestly. “I’m not achy or sore anymore.”
“Ever?” he asks with a raised brow.
“If I push myself too hard, I feel it,” I admit. There’s no need to lie. This isn’t going to put me out of the game forever.
Thank Christ.
“That’s to be expected,” Doc replies with a nod. “I’m going to keep you out for the rest of this season, but keep doing what you’re doing, and you’ll be ready for spring training.”
“This is great news,” Coach says with a sigh. I know that he and everyone else were worried that I wouldn’t come back from this.
It terrified the fuck out of me.
“What can I expect when I return?” I ask.
“Good question,” Doc says. “There are a number of possibilities. You could lose or gain velocity on your fastball. You could tire more quickly, and you’d need to be replaced early in a game.”
“Fuck that,” I mutter.
“But you could also come back stronger than ever, and never have another problem. We won’t really know until it happens.”
“What, exactly, have you been doing?” A young female trainer named Julie asks. “Can you walk us through your routine? The exercises you’re doing? How it feels in your shoulder when you do them?”
I comply, describing the hours and hours of hard work, pushing and pulling weights, executing pushups with Gabby or Sam on my back, and the dozens of other small range-of-motion exercises I put my shoulders through every day.
“In the beginning, it hurt like a sonofabitch,” I say with a rueful smile. “And now I’m able to flow from one exercise to the next. If I push too hard, it aches. It doesn’t feel like it’s going to tear again; it simply feels tired. But I ice it and rest it for a day, and I’m fine.”
“When can we start advertising that Rhys is returning?” Melanie Sloan, my publicist, asks.
“Whenever you like,” Doc replies. “He’ll be back in the spring.”
“Thank you,” I reply. “I’m ready to get back to work.”
“Enjoy a few more months off,” Coach says as we all stand to leave. “I’m going to work your ass off before long.”
He isn’t lying.
Coach Adams is the most demanding, hard-ass coach I’ve ever worked for.
And I admire and respect him like no other.
He demands a work ethic from each of his players that is unparalleled
I just smile and follow him out of the room.
“Don’t forget,” Melanie says in her stern voice as she follows behind us. “You have to film the commercial for the Children’s Hospital in about five weeks.”
“I’ll be back for it,” I reply. “Don’t worry.”
“You’re not the one I have to worry about,” she says. “But it doesn’t hurt to remind you.”
One of the trainers catches Coach’s attention, giving me a second to check my phone. No messages from Gabby. I haven’t heard from her all day. I’ve sent several texts, and even tried to call once, but she isn’t answering.
I’m getting worried.
I quickly type out another message.
How’s your day going?
There are handshakes and man-hugs exchanged as the trainers and Melanie leave, and now it’s just Coach and me.
“I heard what you did for Neil,” he begins, following me to my rental car. I lean my ass on the driver’s window, facing the man who’s almost as tall as me, and at fifty-five, almost as fit as me too.
“I was surprised that he drove all the way to New Orleans,” I reply.
“I’m not. I was hoping he would when I told him he needed a week off to get his shit straight.”
“How’s he doing?”
“Better.” Coach sighs and drops his hands into his pockets. “And how are you? Really?”
“I told you, I’m—”
“I know what you told the doctor to get cleared to play. And I’m fucking relieved as fuck that you’ll be back in the spring. But how are you?”
How am I? I brush my hand over my mouth, thinking of Gabby and Sam and the inn. Despite being out for the season, I’m content.
I’m happy.
“I’m doing really well.”
“Who is she?” Coach asks with a twitch to his lips. He’s always been an arrogant know-it-all ass.
Of course, he’s always right.
“Gabby,” I reply softly and stare at the mostly empty parking lot.
“And she lives in New Orleans?”
“About thirty minutes outside of the city, yes. She runs the inn that I’ve been staying at.”
“An innkeeper.” He raises a shaggy grey brow. “Hard worker.”
He’s always right.
“Fucking hard worker,” I agree with a nod. “She’s beautiful. Smart. So much smarter than me.” I smile and shake my head, rubbing the back of my neck anxiously.
Why am I anxious?
“She has a little boy. He’s seven, and probably the biggest Cubs fan there is.”
“I bet he’s enjoying having you around,” Coach says with a smile.
“I enjoy having him around too. He’s as smart as his mom, and the things he says are funny.”
“You’re in love with them.”
I sigh and nod and then I just stare at this man that I trust as much as I trust anyone in my life.
“I don’t know what the fuck to do about it.”
He laughs. “Keep loving them.”
“Is it that simple?” I ask and pace a few feet away, then back again. “How can I make it work? I have a demanding career that keeps me on the road more than half of the year. I’m based out of Chicago, for fuck sake. She has a thriving family business in New Orleans.”
“Last time I checked, you make a shit-ton of money.”
I smirk. “Sam’s in school.”
“The majority of our season is during the summer,” he replies. “Look, a lot of players manage to have happy families and a baseball career. It can be a juggling act during the season, but it’s doable. Bring them with you. You can afford it. Live in New Orleans in the off season.”
He makes a lot of sense. Maybe I can talk Gabby into hiring some help and she and Sam can join me during most of the season.
Because the thought of living without them leaves an ache in me that the thought of losing baseball never did.
“You’ve never been one to shy away from hard work, Rhys.”
I scowl. “Fuck no. You know hard work doesn’t scare me.”
“Good because if you thought baseball was hard, just wait until you start working on a relationship. Is she worth it?”
A slow smile spreads over my face as I think of Gabby, with her long dark hair and hazel eyes. How she makes me laugh, and simply makes me feel damn good.
“Yeah, she’s worth it.”
“I look forward to meeting her and her son.” Coach grins and claps me on my uninjured shoulder. “Maybe I’ll bring the missus down there after the season is over to check out her inn. My wife is insanely patient during the season. She deserves a trip.”
“You should. It’s great.”
“You know, if you ever have questions about bringing a family along for this ride, or if Gabby ever needs anything, you can call my wife, or any of the other married players. We stick together, and no one wants you to fail.”
“Thank you.” I nod, feeling even more comfortable, relieved, and convinced that this is going to work. “I may take you up on it.”
“Wouldn’t offer if I didn’t expect you to.” He claps my shoulder again and then backs away toward his own car. “Safe travels back, son.”
I wave and settle in the car, but before I drive toward the hotel, I check my phone again.
Nothing.
It’s late evening now. I spent all day in tests and meetings, consultations and hours and hours with my publicist, discussing all of the endorsement opportunities that she has lined up for me.
I’ll be damned if I’ll plug athletes’ foot cream. Fuck that.
I also spent part of the day in meetings with lawyers going over contracts, financial advisors.
The whole gamut.
I check my phone and frown when there is no response from Gabby. I try to call her again, but it goes to voice mail.
Where the fuck is she? What if something happened to her?
I chew on my lip and tap my fingers on the steering wheel. I’m supposed to head back down there tomorrow morning, but I can’t reach Gabby.
Fuck it.
I dial Melanie’s number.
“Did we forget something?” she asks with a smile in her voice.
“I want to go back to New Orleans tonight instead of tomorrow.”
There’s a pause. “I can try to switch your flight, but at this hour, there probably isn’t anything until morning anyway.”
“Charter a flight.”
Another pause. “Are you okay, Rhys?”
“I’m fine. I need to get to New Orleans tonight. I can afford the damn plane, Mel.”
“Okay. Consider it done. I’ll call you when I have the details.”
“Thanks.”
I click off and head for the hotel to get my bag and check out. I’m sure she’s fine. I’m sure I’m overreacting, but damn it, I need to see her.
I need her.
***
It’s late when I arrive at the inn. Or, early I guess, since it’s about four o’clock in the morning. The inn is dark, aside from the foyer light that Gabby always leaves on, and I’m thankful that I still have my room key so I can get inside without having to wake her.
It’s quiet, and yet, it already feels more like home than the house in Denver that Kate and I shared ever did.
I walk back to Gabby and Sam’s private quarters. It’s simple back here, just two bedrooms, a bathroom and a little sitting area with a TV and comfortable couch for Sam to play and watch his shows.
I check on Sam first. He’s sleeping hard with his puppy curled up beside him. Neither of them even flutter an eyelash when I kiss Sam’s forehead and rub the pup’s ears.
I close the door the way Sam likes, leaving it cracked so the hall light shines in just a bit, then quietly let myself into Gabby’s room. It’s dark, and just as quiet as the rest of the house, and when my eyes adjust, I can see that she’s curled up in the center of the bed.
The woman has a big personality. I love it.
I undress and slip between the sheets, pulling Gabby gently into my arms. She startles and gasps.
“Rhys?”
“I’d better be the only one crawling in bed with you, baby.”
“What are you doing here?” She checks the time and sees how early it is. “Is something wrong?”
“Yes. I couldn’t reach you.” I cup her face in my hand and look into her eyes, thanks to the glow of the full moon coming through her wide window. “I tried to call and text all day, and I couldn’t get you to respond.”
“I’m not sure where I put my phone,” she replies softly, and I realize she’s on the verge of tears. “I had a really shitty day.”
I drag my fingertips down her cheek, then brush her hair back over her shoulder. Fuck, it feels so damn good to have her here in my arms. To know that she’s okay.
“What happened?”
“I lost my iPad, which means that I can’t schedule bookings, or even see which rooms are supposed to have which guests. It completely threw me off for the day. The dishwasher broke again, flooding my kitchen.”
“That thing needs to be replaced,” I murmur and kiss her forehead.
“The puppy pooped on my kitchen floor, before he jumped in the water, getting himself and Sam completely drenched,” she continues and burrows closer to me, burying her face in my chest and wrapping her arms around me for dear life. God, has anything ever felt like this in my life? If it did, I don’t remember it. “And then, to cap it all off, Sam broke another damn window.”
Her voice catches, and then she sniffs and begins to cry. “Beau and Van came and let me go to bed early while they finished up the nighttime chores for the inn.”
She’s so fucking exhausted. That’s what the tears are for, because any of those events by themselves wouldn’t have phased her. But all of it in one day is a lot to handle, and I wasn’t here to help her.
Fuck.
I just hold her, caressing her, rubbing her, crooning to her, and let her cry it all out. And when she’s finally done, when the sniffles slow down, I feel my lips twitch.
“The puppy was splashing in the water?”