All Your Loving (Bachelors & Bridesmaids) (6 page)

"But you remember a lot, don't you?"

"Everything. It's a blessing and a curse," he said lightly. "So what do you want me to do with these pots?"

She started, realizing that she'd lost all track of what they were supposed to be doing—which was cooking.

"Just tell me what to do, and I'll do it," Matt added with a smile. "I'm all yours for the night, Julie."

His words sent a pack of butterflies dancing through her stomach, which was crazy, since the last thing she wanted was for him to be all hers. Wasn't it?

* * *

An hour and a half later, Matt sat back in his chair at the dining room table, having finished off the remarkably good dish he'd managed to cook with Julie's help. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a home-cooked meal, and it certainly hadn't been here in his home. It felt good to eat in, to have a beautiful woman for company, to not have to be on for anyone. It was interesting, but with Julie, her candid dislike of his job and his fame, he actually found it easier to just be himself.

"Full?" she asked, spooning the last bite of scallop into her mouth.

"Stuffed. That was damn good. I must admit that I'm amazing."

She laughed at his cocky words. "And so humble, too. Let's not forget I was behind you every step of the way. So I'd say you were competent. Amazing is still a ways off."

"I'm not averse to some practice. We should do this again. In fact, I was thinking I should try another recipe, and then we can decide which one is better."

"Whoa. I think it would be better to just perfect this one. You only have a week." She started to get up, but he immediately waved her back into her seat. "You sit. I'll clean up."

"I was just going to take my plate to the sink, but fine. I'm happy to let you clean up. It's been a long day and an even longer week," she said.

"Let's go into the living room. The dishes can wait." He grabbed the bottle of wine off the table. "Bring your glass."

As she settled on the couch in the living room, he couldn't help thinking that he really liked this mellowed-out version of Julie Michaels. She was still in work clothes, black slacks and a teal-colored top, but she'd taken off her blazer while they were cooking, and her blonde hair fell loosely around her shoulders.

While her eyes were a little tired, they were still the prettiest blue he'd ever seen. And her lips were soft and tinged pink from the red wine she was sipping. He had an almost irresistible urge to kiss her. With any other woman, he would have sat down next to her and done exactly that. But he felt like he had to tread carefully when it came to Julie. She wasn't as bitter or as angry around now him, but she was still skittish, and he didn't want to scare her off.

He took a seat in the armchair adjacent to the couch. He'd had a hard week, too. Letting out a sigh, he tossed back the rest of his wine, then set his glass down and kicked up his feet on the coffee table.

"That was a big sigh," Julie commented, giving him a thoughtful look. "Rough week?"

"You could say that."

"But the season hasn't started yet. Shouldn't this be the easy part of the year for you?"

"Unfortunately the off-season now seems to be filled with other commitments. I spent the early part of the week in New York doing an ad campaign for jeans. I had to play model for two days. It was boring as hell and not my scene."

She suspected he'd looked pretty damn good in those jeans. "I'm sure you were paid well," she said.

"Very well. I actually have more respect for models now. It's not as easy as I thought it was. I was glad to get back on the plane, come home, and hit the practice field."

"Does your arm hurt, Matt?"

He realized he was subconsciously rubbing his right shoulder. "Yesterday was the first day I'd thrown in a month. It's a little tweaked, hopefully nothing more than that. I like to start the season off feeling healthy and strong. However, it's not just my arm that's bothering me though. I picked up a hitch in my swing, and it's pissing me off." He paused, frowning as he realized how small his problems must look to her. She worked hard to help people who were dealing with serious issues like hunger and homelessness. "I know—smallest violin in the world right?"

"Everyone's problems are important to them," she said, surprising him a little.

"That’s a more generous response than I'd expect from you."

She shrugged. "We all get upset about petty things. I was really annoyed yesterday when I couldn't get a password to work on my computer. I had to take a breath and remind myself it's not that big of a deal." She tilted her head as she sipped her wine and gave him a long look. "Tell me something, Matt. You're a superstar, we both know that. You've set records, broken records, been named MVP, so do you really have that much left to prove?"

"I do," he said. "I need to put a few more good seasons under my belt before I run out the clock."

"You're only twenty-nine. You have a lot of time left. My father played until he was forty-one."

"He was lucky to stay healthy and that good that long." Matt was surprised she'd brought her father into the conversation.

"Yeah, my dad was always lucky."

He waited for her to continue, but that seemed to be all she wanted to say about her dad.

She took another sip of wine, then said, "How did you get into baseball? Did your father play with you?"

He smiled at that thought. "No, my dad was not an athlete at all. He was a nerdy computer genius. However, my grandfather on my mom's side used to play, and he was the one to show me how to throw a ball. He loved baseball. When I was eight years old, we went on a family trip to Boston, and my grandpa took me to Fenway Park. I stood at the top of the stadium and looked down at the shiny diamond and then out at the fence they call the Big Green Monster and knew that one day I was going to hit a homerun over that very high wall. Being in that park was like walking through time. I could almost hear the sounds of the past, the old wood bats echoing the sound of every hit, the calls for beer and hotdogs. It was the most incredible place I'd ever seen."

He saw a light of recognition in her eyes. "You've been there, haven't you?"

She nodded. "Yeah, I know exactly what you mean about being able to hear the ghosts of the past there."

He could hardly believe they'd actually connected over something related to baseball.

"So your grandfather was the one who fueled your interest in the sport. Tell me more about the early days. Were you good from the very beginning? One of those kids who is just an outstanding athlete?"

"God, no," he said with a definitive shake of his head, remembering the struggle of his youth.

"Really?" she asked doubtfully.

"I grew late, Julie. When I was twelve and thirteen, I was a lot smaller than the competition. In a way, it worked in my favor. I couldn't depend on physical attributes to get the job done, so I had to be technically good at the mechanics of baseball. When I finally did pass the six-foot mark, I had excellent skills to back up my newfound size and power." He took a breath, choosing his words, wanting her to understand a little of where his passion came from. "It wasn't just my grandfather's love of the game that drove me on; the baseball field was a happy place for me, especially after my father died. I could forget about everything but the game for those two hours."

"That makes sense."

"And when I started to realize that I could be really good at the game, I saw baseball as my ticket to college. I knew there wouldn't be money to pay for that, so I would need a scholarship. That became my goal. And I worked really hard. I took more swings than anyone else. I was the first one to get to practice and the last one to leave. I had to play my way through obnoxious asshole coaches and team politics, but I just kept my head down and focused on getting the job done when I had the chance. By the time I was a junior in high school, I was breaking hitting records, pro scouts were calling me, and universities were offering me a full ride."

"Very impressive. I'm sure it helped to have natural talent to go along with your work ethic."

"Oh, it did. There is never just one thing that makes someone successful. It's always a combination."

"So you went to Stanford, right?"

"For a year, and then the scouts started offering me a lot of money to go pro. I couldn't pass up the opportunity. I spent a year in the minors. Then, by some miracle, I was pulled up to the Cougars starting lineup when their shortstop got injured. I've been there ever since."

"And you turned into a superstar," she said with a small smile.

"Not right away. But when we made it to the World Series three years ago, I had a fairly spectacular run at the plate, which helped my contract negotiations. And last year's run in the playoffs will hopefully help me out next year, but my contract will be up at the end of the season, and I want another one. It's never about what I did in the past but what I can contribute now and in the future that matters."

"Are you really that worried?"

"Let's just say I don't take it for granted."

"But even if it ended tomorrow or this year, you've obviously made a lot of money, achieved fame and you have a World Series ring. If it was over at the end of this season, wouldn't it have been enough?"

He thought about her question for a long moment. "I've asked myself the same thing," he said, meeting her gaze. "But it's not just about me, Julie. I support my mom and my siblings with that money. I need the income to last as long as possible so that everyone gets to where they need to go. I don't want to quit until I know I can walk away and everyone I care about will be fine. I also know that my career has an expiration date. In other professions, you can work into your seventies, but there's going to come a point where I have to figure out what to do next, and I'd like to push that point back as long as possible."

"That happened to my friend's boyfriend, Michael Stafford. His football career ended at twenty-five when he blew out his knee. He had to reinvent himself. He's doing well though."

"You have a friend that's a professional athlete, and you actually like them?"

She made a face at him. He's my friend's fiancé, and we all went to high school together, so I knew him before he was a superstar. Now, he's just a working guy like the rest of us. But getting back to you, I think it's really generous of you to take care of your family."

"I try. I bought my mother a house with a garden last year, which she loves. And I'm trying to help out my siblings, although sometimes that gets wearing, especially when they make stupid choices."

She raised an eyebrow. "Like what? Do you have an example?"

"Yes, I do. Connor is in the Marines. He called me last night to tell me he's getting married to a woman he met three months ago. He's always been impulsive, but this is crazy. They're going to get married when they both have a couple of days of leave, which means they're not even going to have time for a honeymoon. And he's in the middle of a war zone. What the hell is he thinking?"

"Maybe he's not thinking; he's just in love."

"He's always in love."

She smiled. "Obviously, he thinks this time is different."

"So he says, but he's being ridiculous. Why the rush? Why not wait? Date a while, survive deployment, and then get hitched?" He paused. "But Connor isn't my biggest concern at the moment. He's old enough to figure things out, but he told me last night that David, my youngest brother, wants to drop out of college. I just paid his tuition, and I can't even get him to text me back."

"They have to live their own lives, Matt. You had the chance to pursue your dreams. Why shouldn't they?"

"Because they're not being smart."

She laughed. "I'm sure they think they are."

"I'm sure they do, but they're not. You're lucky you don't have siblings."

She sucked in a quick breath, her face paling at his comment.

"What did I say?" he asked quickly.

"I do have siblings—two half-sisters. After my father left my mother and me, he had two girls with another woman. They're about eight and five now."

He realized now that he had heard about Jack's second family. He just hadn't really thought about it until this moment. "Have you met them?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No, I haven't seen my father in person since the night he told me he was leaving my mother."

He was shocked at her answer. "That's crazy. You're his kid, why wouldn't he see you?"

"I asked myself that, too. In the beginning, I didn’t want to see him. He did tell my mother he wanted to come to my high school graduation, but I said absolutely not. The little contact my parents had during the divorce proceedings were always followed by three days of crying and anger and bitterness on my mom's part. I didn't want my graduation to put them anywhere near each other."

"I can understand why you wouldn't want to see him, but you have no interest in meeting your sisters?"

"They don't feel like they're anything to me," she replied. "I haven't even seen a photo. And my dad's second wife is five years older than me. It would feel so weird to see him with her." Julie shuddered at the thought. "I don't need any of that. It took me a long time to get past my father's betrayal."