“Pretty much.”

“What have you been doing since I left?”

“Are you coming back?” he asks, his eyes on mine now, looking hopeful.

“That’s the plan.”

He nods. “I love baseball.”

“I know. You play it like you love it.” He blinks rapidly, clearly surprised by the compliment. “You’re my catcher, Neil. I watch you, all game, every game.”

“My knees hurt,” he admits. “I’m twenty-five fucking years old, and my knees are killing me all the time.”

“Are you hooked on pain pills?” I ask bluntly.

“No.” He shakes his head and sucks down more water. “The minors were very different,” he begins softly. “I mean, there were parties after games, and there was some stupid shit that went down, but that was nothing compared to this. There’s drugs and women and money being flung at me from every direction.”

“Are you in trouble?” I ask again.

“No. Coach told me to take a week to get my head on straight before I get arrested or kicked off the team.” He pushes his hands through his hair, scrubbing his scalp. “So I got in my car and drove straight here. You’re the one I’ve always been able to talk to.”

I miss this. Talking with the younger guys, giving them advice. I realize that when baseball is all over in a few years, this will be what I miss the most.

My teammates.

“So you’ve acquired a taste for hot women and money? Because if you tell me you’re doing drugs, I’ll take you down so fast you won’t wake up in time to go back next week.” I calmly drink my water, watching his face.

“I’m not doing drugs,” he replies fiercely. “That’s not me.”

“Good.”

“The women and money, I like.”

“Nothing wrong with that.”

He shrugs his shoulders, and won’t meet my gaze.

“I have two separate women claiming they’re pregnant with my kid,” he says softly. “And I don’t even remember fucking either of them.”

Ouch.

“Are you sure you did?”

He shakes his head. “Dude, I get so fucked up after a game, especially a win, I can’t be sure of anything.”

“Idiot.”

He winces and nods. “I know.”

“Obviously, there are lawyers for this, Neil. It happens in professional sports all the time.”

“Has it ever happened to you?”

“Hell no.”

He smirks. “Of course not. You’re fucking perfect.”

I shake my head and sigh. “Not even close. Do you think I wasn’t dazzled by tits and ass when I was young? Of course. I’m a red-blooded man, for fuck sake.”

“So you fucked around too.”

“For a minute, in the beginning. But I wanted baseball more. It’s not about the money or the women or the fame for me. It’s about the game. I’ve never been willing to give it up, and I’m not going into a relationship with anyone unless I can give it everything it deserves. And I don’t think I can do that while I’m still playing baseball.”

“If you try to tell me you’ve been a fucking monk for ten years, I call bullshit.”

“No.” I grin and shake my head. “But the women I choose are discreet and they know the score.”

“What about the honey inside?” he asks, and the way he calls Gabby a honey sets my teeth on edge.

“None of your motherfucking business.”

“Hey.” He leans back, hands up in the resigned position. “No offense.”

I shake my head again. “She’s spoken for.”

“Does she know the score?” he asks with a raised brow.

“Touch her and I’ll end you,” I reply with steel in my voice. “I’m not fucking with you over her. She’s off limits, and that’s the end of the story.”

“I get it.” Neil nods, then smiles. “I hope it works out for you guys.”

I stand, ignoring the statement, because I don’t even know what I want where Gabby is concerned.

Except, I know I want her naked and beneath me, right now.

“What do you need from me, Neil?”

“This.” He stands and holds his hand out for me to shake. “I needed to talk it through with someone I respect and trust.”

I nod, understanding. “Just call me if you need me. No need to drive for days for a conversation. Come on, let’s go in.”

“If I look at her, will you take my head off?”

“Probably. Don’t look at her.”

***

“Neil is staying in my room tonight,” I inform Gabby as I walk into the kitchen and find her arranging flowers from the garden in a large vase.

“Are you two typically snuggle buddies?” she asks with a sarcastic smile.

“Funny.” I walk up behind her and wrap my arms around her middle, just under her breasts because she’s so short, and bury my nose in her hair, breathing her in. “Do you mind?”

She smells better than the flowers.

“It makes sense,” she says as she pushes a sunflower in the vase. “You’ve been staying with me anyway, and Sam doesn’t get home until Monday.”

“Mmm,” I agree. When the flowers are done, I turn her in my arms and cage her in between me and the kitchen island. “We need to talk.”