“We stopped at the store.”

“Jesus. Don’t tell me you bought him some.”

“By accident!”

Once again he thunked his head on the wall just over her shoulder.

She slid a hand up between his forehead and the wall. “You’re going to hurt yourself even more.”

“Not possible.”

“Look, I threw the alcohol out, okay? I’m sorry but your dad can be a little slippery.”

He let out a short laugh, his tone saying it wasn’t actually funny, and left his forehead against her hand, rubbing his head back and forth against her palm.

“Wade.” She ran her other hand up his back, aching for him again. Still. She let her fingers brush over his temple as she gently tipped his head up to look at him. “I’m so sorry.”

He caught her wrist so that she couldn’t keep touching him, in spite of the fact that he still had her pinned to the wall with his entire lower body. “Don’t.”

She had no idea what the gruffly uttered word meant. Don’t talk? Don’t care? Far too late for that. His body’s heat radiated through her. She stirred a little, curling into him, careful with his ribs, wanting only to soothe, to offer him some gentleness. “Let me check him into a hotel somewhere nearby, and I’ll come back to take care of you.”

His eyes were dark. “What did you have in mind?”

“You in bed.”

“I like it so far. Keep going.”

“You in bed, asleep,” she corrected.

He sighed.

She stared up into his face, deeply tanned from the long hours out in the sun, though not enough to hide those shadows beneath his eyes or the pain tightening his mouth. His eyes were dilated, but she suspected that was still temper, and yet when she snuggled into him, she could feel his body stirring with a different sort of tension altogether.

He was hard. “You have a concussion,” she marveled. “Bruised ribs. You have to hurt like hell, not to mention you’re mad at me. How can you even think about sex?”

“God-given talent.” He slid a hand down her back and cupped her ass.

And now it was her body stirring. Hell, who was she kidding? Her body was addicted to his. She’d reacted to him the minute he’d walked in the door. “Wade.”

His mouth brushed her neck. And then her jaw . . . He made his slow, purposeful way to her mouth and as she made a low sound of helpless arousal, he wrapped his arms tight around her and kissed her with a lot of tongue and temper and desperation.

“We have to deal with your dad,” she murmured.

With another rough breath, he let her go and turned away, temper winning. “Don’t worry about the hotel. Just get Tag out of here before my dad teaches him any more bad tricks. The rest is my problem, not yours.”

Sam hated doing as Wade asked, but short of forcing herself on him, she had little choice. So she took Tag home, tucked him into bed, and then herself. Lying there staring at the ceiling, she thought about Wade’s father, and then hers, who’d never so much as checked on her and Tag. She chewed on that for a while, his utter lack of support with the Jeremy thing, the complete non-help he’d given her with Tag, and she knew they had to talk. She was finally over being a part of the McNead empire. There in the dark, she nodded at her decision. It was a good one. And for the first time since Wade had hit the post, she relaxed.

First thing the next morning, she was back at Wade’s, knocking with determination on his door.

No one answered.

She looked back at her car. Tag was bouncing on the front seat eating an Egg McMuffin. Breakfast of champions. She reassured herself that she wasn’t a bad pseudo-parent, that this was only the second day this week that she’d fed him fast food.

Okay, third.

But she was going to work on that. Really, she was.

Unfortunately she had a crazy schedule today. She had a Heat team meeting to get to in one hour, then she’d take Tag to the tutor’s and herself back to work, where she had to oversee an ET photo shoot, finish organizing the upcoming charity dinner, and arrange for several etiquette workshops for the bull pen players per Gage’s order. She had a conference call scheduled with her father as well, at her own request. He wasn’t going to like their conversation, as she was going to tell him she didn’t plan on renewing her contract for next season.

This McNead was going off on her own, thank you very much.

She knocked on Wade’s door again.

Still no answer. She pulled out her cell phone and called Wade’s. After two rings, the shade on the window next to the front door opened.

Wade stood on the other side of the glass. He wore gray sweatpants low on his hips, a wrap around his ribs, and nothing else. His hair was wet from a recent shower and messily falling over his forehead. His eyes were shadowed, and so was the jaw he hadn’t shaved.

He had his cell phone in his hand at his side, attitude blaring from every pore of his mouth-watering body.

She met his gaze and waited expectantly with her phone to her ear.

With a slow shake of his head, like maybe she was an unfathomable pain in his ass, he opened his phone and put it to his ear.

“Hi,” she said.

He just lifted a brow.

She wished she could do that, convey so much with one look. It sure would save a lot of time, something she was extremely short of at the moment. “I brought you and your dad breakfast.” She hoisted the bag to show him. “Not your beloved fries because it’s too early, but I hear that their Egg McMuffins clog arteries just as effectively.”

He didn’t smile. “How do you know my dad’s still here?”

Ah, he speaks. “Because you wouldn’t have kicked him out. Even though I’m sure you gave it more than a passing thought,” she added politely.

He sighed and shoved his fingers in his hair. “I’m not opening this door to you. One houseguest is my limit at this time.”

Ouch. But she’d figured he’d still be mad at her for interfering, even if she’d done so with only his best interests in mind. Telling herself she’d worry about the consequences later, she took another glance at Tag—still behaving—and opened the front door herself.

“I should have locked that,” he said, slipping his phone into his sweatpants pocket.

She handed him a coffee.

“Bribery won’t work.”

She was betting otherwise. “Drink up.”

He blew out a breath and did as she asked. She waited, and he drank some more, and they shared breathing space for a few minutes.

“Okay,” he finally admitted. “So I needed caffeine.”

She arched an agreeing brow and handed over the food.

He set the coffee down on the window ledge and opened the bag. Grabbing an Egg McMuffin, he sank his teeth into it.

She waited.

After another moment, he nodded.

“Feeling human again then?” she asked, keeping her smile to herself.

“I’ve got a start on it anyway.”

“Good.” Going up on her tiptoes, she brushed her lips over his. His eyes revealed their surprise. She rarely made the first move, instead letting him be the aggressor, sexual or otherwise. The realization startled her, and made her want to touch him more. She took a peek at Tag. His head was down. He was playing his Game Boy. “How are you feeling?” she murmured to Wade, setting a hand to his chest.

He looked down at her hand. “What did you have in mind?”

“Not the same thing you do.”

He let out a breath. “I’m good enough to play today.”

“You’re on the DL.”

“I’m good.” His eyes darkened and he wrapped his fingers around her wrist. “Keep touching me like that and I’ll show you how good.”

“Your dad—”

“Sleeping off a hangover, no doubt.”

“Nope. I gave that stuff up, remember?” John stepped in the foyer. He was dressed in yet another eye-popping Hawaiian shirt and cargo shorts, a newspaper tucked beneath his arm, looking chipper but a little edgy. The lack of alcohol was definitely getting to him. “Hello, kids.”

Sam smiled and handed him a coffee.

“Thanks, darlin’.” John eyed his son. “I meant what I said, Wade. I’m here to quit.”

“And I meant what I said,” Wade told him. “I catch you with an ounce of alcohol, even cough syrup, and this little Brady Bunch experiment is over.”

John nodded. “I’ll be in the other room. Don’t want to cramp anyone’s style.”

“You’re cramping my life,” Wade said.

John’s mouth curved. “At least you admit I’m in your life.”

He was gone before Wade would comment on that but Sam heard the low, inaudible growl deep in his throat and gently pushed on his chest to hold him in place. “I see it’s going well.”

“Don’t worry,” Wade said, looking down at her. “I’m not going to kill him. Yet.”

“Wade.”

He closed his eyes. “Is this where you lecture me on being nice?”

“This isn’t my job. I’m not going to lecture you on anything. I just wanted to say—”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“But—”

“Ever.”

She studied his dark eyes, the muscle ticking in his jaw. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Really?” he asked. “Because I seem to remember a situation in reverse, only a few weeks back, when Tag got delivered to you. You didn’t want to talk about it. And you sure as hell didn’t want help from me either.”

True enough. “But I wasn’t being stubborn and obstinate.”

He laughed and pressed his fingers to his eyes.

“Okay, maybe I was a little.”

“Yeah. Thanks for breakfast.”

“But good-bye,” she guessed. “Right?”

“Unless you’re packing some TLC.”

“Is that code for sex?”

He gave her a look that singed her eyebrows.

“Yeah,” she said shakily. “It is.”

He set down the bag and pressed her back against the foyer wall and kissed her. It wasn’t soft and gentle. It was all heat and tongue and aggravation.

And all of her bones melted.

“Ah, jeez,” came Tag’s voice. “Again?”

Sam nearly leapt out of her skin as she jerked back from Wade. Tag had gotten out of the car and stood there slurping from his orange juice, studying them critically.

Into the silence, Pace drove up the driveway. He got out of his classic Mustang with a bag of McDonald’s and eyed Tag’s Mickey D’s. “I’m too late.”

“Pace!” Tag said with great pleasure, and took in Pace’s warm-up sweats. “You going to practice?”

“Yep. Soon as I check on Wade here.”

“They’re kissing.”

“Are they?” Pace asked mildly, his eyes reflecting his amusement.

“Yeah. Can I ride in your car?”

“I’ll take you to practice with me, sure. If it’s okay with your Aunt Sam.”

Tag whirled on Sam. “Yeah?”

A cab pulled up and honked.

Everyone looked at each other. What now?

“That’s for me.” John nudged his way past the four in the doorway, smiled at Tag, and headed down the walk.

“Where are you going?” Wade asked him.

“Progress that you even asked. I’m off to my first AA meeting.”

“You’ve been to AA a hundred times. A thousand.”

“Maybe a thousand and one is the charm.”

Wade frowned as his father waved over his shoulder and got into the cab, which drove off. He looked at Sam, his gaze inscrutable though she was pretty sure it still had retribution in it. Oh, boy. “Time to go, Tag,” she said.

“I want to go watch Pace practice. Please?”

Pace tossed Tag his keys. “Wait for me in the car. Just don’t take it for a spin without me.”

“Next time?”

“When you’re sixteen, we’ll talk. Go.” Pace looked at Sam and Wade. “You two going to play nice?”

“I always play nice,” Sam said.

Wade let out a barely there snort.

Pace grinned. “Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” He nudged Sam. “Don’t worry about the kid. You know where we’ll be.”

And then it was just her.

And Wade.

Who stood there bare-chested in just those sweatpants, that edible body tense and unhappy. “I feel like this is my fault,” she said.

He softened with a low sigh. “It’s not. Okay, it is . . . but it’s not.”

“You’re hurting.”

“Yeah. Want to kiss it better?” He ran a finger over her collarbone, then along the edges of the deep V-neck of her dress.

Her breath caught.

He closed his eyes as his finger slid beneath the material. A muscle jumped in his jaw, then he opened his eyes again and stepped back. “You should probably go to your meeting.”

That had been her plan but now she wanted to stay and have him keep touching her. “Not for forty-five minutes.”

“Sam,” he said warningly. “I’m pissed off and really want to stay that way.”

“Pissed off isn’t productive to healing.”

Again, he ran a finger over her neckline. “What are you wearing beneath the dress?”

Empathy and lust warred within her, along with a genuine, bone-deep affection that shouldn’t have surprised her but did. She already knew she liked him, more than she’d meant to, more than she’d ever wanted to. Her dress was just another wrap dress, professional and relatively modest, and not at all overtly sexy in any way. Except that when Wade looked at her like that, with frustration and heat, with those green eyes at half mast, she felt sexy as hell. “Maybe you should find out yourself.”