Heart of the Game Page 20

  The kiss escalated quickly. They had too little time together, and given their combined exhaustion, stamina was not something she could count on. She worked her hand under Duke’s red polo, raking her fingernails across soft skin. Crawling forward down the couch and over Duke, Molly pushed the shirt up as she went until she slipped it over Duke’s head. She then kissed her way back down from her lips to her neck to her chest. Duke smelled of cologne and ballpark, heat and dirt and fresh air mingled together. Molly’s heart rate accelerated like a car stuck in second gear, steadily revving as she closed her lips around one hard nipple.

  Duke threaded her fingers into the thick hair at the base of Molly’s head, massaging her scalp while gently holding her in place.

  “Mol,” she mumbled, “we should go to the bedroom.”

  She was right, but Molly couldn’t imagine leaving this spot until she finished what she’d started. Still, time was not their ally, so she slid her palm down to the button of Duke’s khakis and nimbly flicked it open. Pushing the zipper down, she slid under the waistband of Duke’s boxer briefs. Duke’s hips lifted off the couch, asking for more even as her consciousness made one last attempt to regain control.

  “Molly, the bedroom. We have to move.”

  “Shhh.” Molly silenced her with another kiss, then grazed her fingers through soft curls to the pool of wetness beneath. Her breath caught as her own hips rocked forward in some primal response. “You’ll never last that long.”

  Duke’s eyes glazed over with arousal, and her head rolled back in acquiescence.

  Molly stroked her in small, light circles, relishing the swell and fall of the beautiful body beneath her. Duke’s stomach dipped with each jagged exhale, and the muscles in her legs twitched and tightened with each pass of Molly’s fingers. She was as fine a model as any of the athletes she covered. Her body moved with a fluidity and grace that belied her power, and Molly marveled she shared those gifts with her. She knew instinctively that despite her openness, Duke didn’t make herself vulnerable to many people. The fact that she’d put that kind of need and trust into her hands only magnified Molly’s desire.

  She increased the pressure and speed of her touch, feeling Duke’s body respond beneath her. Duke clutched at her now, holding tightly to her hips, her sides, her ass, anything she could use to pull her closer.

  “So close,” Duke muttered. “So close.”

  “Quietly,” Molly warned as she upped her pace once more, using the weight of their bodies to increase her pressure on the one point Duke needed the most.

  Duke nodded frantically. “Yes, there. God, Molly, kiss me.”

  She complied readily, greedily taking Duke’s mouth and absorbing the groans accompanying her release. Duke’s body arched as much as it could beneath her, but Molly refused to relent until she’d pulled every last shudder from her. Even then she lingered in the warmth she’d helped create.

  Duke lay beneath her, arms still wrapped around her back, holding her loosely as the rise and fall of her chest slowed and deepened. She placed a kiss on Molly’s forehead. “Amazing. You’re amazing.”

  Molly snuggled into her embrace. “You’re pretty special yourself.”

  “You know I didn’t come over here for that, though, right?”

  She did know. “And you know I didn’t tell you to come over just for that, right?”

  Duke nodded. “So we’ve got a lot going on between us, huh?”

  “Mmm-hmm,” Molly hummed, sensing the magnitude of what Duke was hinting at. “More than we should try to talk about at two o’clock in the morning.”

  Duke lifted her chin to check the clock. “Oh, Molly, it’s so late. What time do you have to get up in the morning?”

  “Charlie will be up by six thirty. I try to be fully caffeinated by then. I’m sure you understand why.”

  Duke’s chest shook with a little tremor of laughter. “I can only imagine.”

  “He’s a wild man, but he’s my wild man.”

  Duke sighed and tried to give her a little squeeze, but didn’t seem to have the energy. “I should go, I guess.”

  Molly lifted herself up from the place she’d been resting on Duke’s shoulder. She regarded her there on the couch, eyes heavy, hair a mess, muscles limp, looking completely spent and deliciously sexy. Even if the idea of letting her drive in that condition wasn’t a terrible idea, Molly didn’t think she could let her walk out the door right now. “Why don’t you stay here tonight?”

  Duke raised her eyebrows without fully opening her eyes. “Really?”

  “Yes,” Molly said, extracting herself from Duke’s embrace and rising on shaky legs. Her mind wasn’t processing everything clearly, but her body knew what it wanted, and given the absence of a coherent objection, she surrendered to the more basic need. “I want you in my bed tonight. All night.”

  Duke sat up and made a valiant attempt to focus, her blues still foggy but full of questions. “What about the morning? And the boys? And…and…other stuff?”

  Molly smiled at her concern, at her confusion, at her ability to make adorable mixed with sleepy seem sexy. She pulled Duke up to her. “Let’s go to bed now, slugger. We’ll take the rest one day at a time.”

  *

  Molly had slept only for five minutes, or at least that was what it felt like. There was no possible way Charlie should be awake, and yet there he stood completely silent and wide-eyed two inches from her face. How had he gotten in without her hearing? Had she slept that soundly, or had he revealed some stealthy ninja skills he’d always possessed without her knowing? Either way, the experience of opening your eyes to see another pair mirroring them had a high creepiness factor. She didn’t have the energy to jump or shout, though. Instead, they looked at each other as if in a staring contest, each one waiting for the other to blink, as though winning the showdown might set the tone for the rest of the day.

  Molly lost.

  The minute her heavy eyelids slid shut, Charlie pounced. “Mama, it’s get up morning.”

  Duke startled awake at the sound of his voice. She jumped, and Molly felt her muscles tense, then go completely still, like an animal trying to play dead, but nothing got past her little lion. Charlie grabbed a fistful of covers and part of Molly’s arm to hoist himself onto the bed. Then scrambling over her, he threw all his weight right onto Duke’s stomach.

  “Duke,” he shouted happily.

  “Hey, buddy,” Duke said, her voice hoarse and tentative.

  “You make pancakes.” It was not a request.

  “Um, well, that’s an option,” Duke said slowly. “Also there’s sleeping.”

  Molly snorted.

  “Or not. ’Cause we’re all up now. And I’m still here. In the morning, the very early morning.” Duke yawned. “You’re here, too, and you know I’m here, and your mom knows you know I’m here.”

  “Pancakes.” Charlie tried to pull the rambling monologue back to the point.

  “Right. Pancakes. Completely normal. No one’s freaking out.”

  Molly’s shoulders shook from silent laughter. She should probably help Duke, offer her an out, but she liked waking up with her, and clearly Charlie had no problems with her being there either. While the impulse to roll with the changes wasn’t something she had much experience with, she wanted to see how Duke would handle a morning at the Grettano house. She decided a little test drive couldn’t hurt.

  She rolled over to face Duke. “Morning.”

  “Good morning.”

  “So this is new.”

  “It is.”

  Duke deferred to Molly as she usually did when it came to the kids, but for once Molly didn’t need it. Instead of handing her the answers, she scooted close enough to give her a little kiss. Duke started to return it, her tense muscles sinking back into the mattress, but Charlie put a little hand on each of their foreheads and pushed them apart.

  “Pancakes.”

  Duke looked from Molly back to him before laughing and scooping him into her
arms. “Pancakes it is.”

  She groaned only a little as she rose, then whisked him out of the room, leaving Molly to wonder if she might have actually hit the relationship jackpot. Duke was smart and sensitive and so sexy. She’d driven her crazy with lust last night and opened parts of her heart and body she hadn’t even been sure existed anymore. Now she was letting her sleep late while she made breakfast for her children. Could any of this be real? Her experiences told her no. The cynical voice in the back of her head warned her to be suspicious, but for the first time in almost ten years she sank deeper into the comfort of her covers and told that voice to shut up.

  She must’ve dozed for a bit because when she woke again, sunlight streamed through the blinds in her window. She smelled bacon cooking and coffee brewing. Her stomach rumbled at the scent. She stumbled out of bed and down the hall. She let her eyes adjust to the brighter lights of the living room, but when they did, a smile stretched her face and her heart expanded her chest.

  Charlie sat at the table holding a plain pancake in each hand. Next to him Joe had her laptop open and was reading aloud from what had to be Duke’s post-game report. Duke came out of the kitchen with a platter full of pancakes and another piled high with bacon. She spotted her and grinned that trademark grin of hers, the one that showed joy and sweetness and playfulness with a hint of cocky swagger underneath. “Good morning, again.”

  “It’s a much better morning now than the first time around.”

  “Bacon makes everything better.”

  “Not until after coffee.”

  “Sit down. Let me pour you a mug.”

  Molly was so used to waiting on other people she almost didn’t know what to do with the offer, other than accept it, of course. She sat down next to Joe and kissed him on top of his head.

  “Good morning,” he said without looking up from the computer screen.

  “In baseball, as in life, you can do everything right and still not get ahead, but in both situations panic isn’t nearly as helpful as continued productivity,” Joe read. “The Cardinals don’t need a fire sale on young talent. They don’t need to fire their manager or hitting coach or front office staff. They don’t need to shave their heads or offer burnt sacrifices to the baseball gods. They need to keep playing solid baseball, one game at a time.”

  “Very nicely written,” Molly said as Duke returned with her coffee.

  “Do you believe that?” Joe asked.

  “Of course. I wouldn’t have written it if I didn’t.” Duke sat down and snagged a piece of bacon. “Why?”

  “I don’t know.” He frowned and kept staring at the screen.

  “This team works hard. They play the game right and leave everything they have on the field. It’s all we can ask of them.”

  Joe didn’t respond. His eyes continued to scan the page as his cheeks grew redder and redder.

  “Hey, what’s wrong?” Molly asked.

  “Nothing,” he mumbled.

  Molly looked from him to Duke, who eyed him carefully, her blue eyes narrowing before shooting open.

  “Get out of the comment section, Joe.” Her voice was low and commanding. She hadn’t raised it, but the tone left no room for discussion. It was a mom voice pure and simple, one Molly recognized carried both authority and fear. What she didn’t understand was, why.

  “What’s in the comment section?”

  “Nothing good. Ever. The comment section is where America keeps its crazy.”

  Molly still didn’t get it. “You mean people leave comments about how terrible the Cardinals are? They disagree with you about the story?”

  “Sometimes.” Duke pulled out her phone, and after a few taps, her jaw clenched. All the blood drained from her face.

  “What is it?” Molly asked. All the hope and joy surrounding her earlier gave way to her more dominant nature. “What did my son just read on your webpage?”

  “Mom, it’s nothing,” Joe defended her quickly. “It’s not Duke’s fault.”

  Duke wasn’t so quick to respond. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Joe, we don’t keep secrets from your mom. You’re growing up. You’re going to be exposed to a lot of stuff in the coming years.” She addressed him, but she was looking at Molly. “You have to be able to talk to her about anything. To me, too. When you see things or hear things that upset you, you don’t have to hide it. We’re here to listen, to work through things as a team.”

  Joe nodded, but he wasn’t the only one who’d gotten the message. Molly was being told to calm down and focus on Joe. She wasn’t sure if she was grateful for the reminder or pissed Duke implied she was too irrational to effectively parent her child.

  “Do you have any questions for me?” Duke asked softly.

  Joe shook his head.

  “Are you sure?” she prodded gently. “’Cause you’re a smart kid. A curious kid. Me and your mom won’t get mad at you for asking questions, even hard questions.”

  He seemed to think for a second, his lips pressing together tightly. Then lowering his eyes, he asked, “What’s a dyke?”

  Molly gasped, a shot of pain shooting through her chest, but she clenched her fist to hold back any further outbursts.

  “It’s not a nice word,” Duke said, carefully measuring in her response. “It’s not a word nice people use, at least not in the way it’s used in comment sections. It’s a mean way mean people talk about women who are in love with other women.”

  “But why would someone say it about you?”

  “Well, for one I am a woman, and I date other women. A nicer term would be ‘lesbian’ or ‘gay.’ Have you heard those words before?”

  He nodded, his brown eyes still troubled.

  “Well, some people don’t like people like me.”

  “And my mom?” he asked, looking toward Molly.

  Her chest constricted, and she reached across the table for his hand, but Duke kept talking.

  “Usually people who have those sorts of blind prejudices against people don’t point them at individuals so much as groups, and they rarely limit themselves to one group. They are usually racist and sexist and all-around bigoted, too.”

  “But why would they say that stuff on your blog?”

  “Because they are sad and angry and usually dumb.” She forced a grin. “They are too dumb to argue with the points I make and too angry at the world to value a different opinion from their own. And they don’t like that a woman, especially a gay woman, knows more about baseball than they do.”

  “But you do. You know more about baseball than anyone,” he said, lifting his chin. “You’re smarter than them.”

  “And a better person, too.” Molly finally managed to cut in.

  “Which is why I don’t sink to their level. I never have, Joe, and I don’t want you to either. Just know when people resort to name calling and temper tantrums, it doesn’t reflect poorly on you. It reflects poorly on them.”

  “It makes me want to yell at them and tell them they are wrong.”

  “That would make you like them, and we’re not. We’re better, and the best way to prove it is to keep doing whatever got them so riled up in the first place.”

  “Then I hope you write ten blogs today,” Joe said, finally cracking a genuine smile. “Long ones.”

  Duke laughed. “Oh great, more work for me.”

  With the two of them happy and the immediate threat avoided, Molly gave Joe’s hand a little squeeze and quietly left the table. She walked as calmly as she could to the bedroom, shut the door gently, then proceeded to punch the stuffing out of her pillow. The rapid movement of her fists burned some of the energy pounding through her, but the easy crush of cotton didn’t have the satisfying impact she craved. She wanted to break something or hurt someone, but what or who could she blame? Some faceless Internet troll? An anonymous username on a webpage? Some vague concept of inequality? If someone had knocked her son down or stolen his lunch money, she would’ve wrung the culprit’s neck, but she couldn�
��t get her hands on any of the things that had stolen his innocence about his hero or Molly’s own relationship to her.

  “Hey,” Duke whispered as if on cue, “you okay?”

  Molly jumped, grabbing the pillow and hurling it back onto the bed. “Do I look okay?”

  She shrugged. “If it makes you feel any better, the pillow looks worse.”

  “Don’t.”

  “Don’t what?”

  “Be all casual and even-keeled.” Molly blew out an exasperated breath. “Don’t be understanding either, or reasonable.”

  “Okay.” Duke grabbed a pillow and drop-kicked it across the room. It hit the dresser, rattling a bottle of perfume and some jewelry.

  “Don’t break my furniture either.”

  “I’m sorry, Mol. I don’t know how to handle this.”

  “Really?” she snapped. “’Cause you seemed to do a damn good job out there.”

  “Um, thank you?”

  Molly dropped onto the bed and pulled her knees to her chest. “I froze.”

  “It’s okay. You were caught off guard.”

  “I was, and totally unprepared to deal with any of that. I wasn’t ready to talk to him about homophobia or Internet trolls or you being a public figure. I didn’t think this through.”

  “Think what through?” Duke asked, sitting down next to her.

  “You or your job or what it means to date someone in the public eye, to expose my sons to comments on message boards. God, what if someone sees us together at a game? What if they take pictures of you out with the boys? What if someone makes a comment to them directly? I could barely handle it in the safety of my own home.”

  Duke wrapped her arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. “I wish I had some magic answer, but I don’t, Molly. I can’t plan for everything that could ever go wrong. I can only promise I’ll be here with you all, no matter what life or the Internet throws at us.”

  “What if it’s not enough?”