Scoring in Cedarwood Page 4

  “Maybe.” He wanted a boyfriend, but wasn’t sure Tanner wanted him in return. “I’ve got enough on my plate. I’m happy with my work here. My patients are everything.”

  “Liar.” Hammell scrolled through the roster once more. “Who is your housemate? Him? No. What about this one?”

  Dane sighed. “I don’t know who you’re pointing to, but the guy is Tanner Fox.”

  “Foxy?” Hammell met Dane’s gaze. “Are you kidding me?”

  “No.” He didn’t understand. “What’s so great about Tanner Fox? Is he a decent player? I thought the fans called him Foxy because he’s handsome.”

  “Decent? Until he hit this last skid, Foxy had one of the best batting averages in the league. Rumor has it he was going to be called up, until his averages tanked.” Hammell placed his phone on Dane’s desk and folded his arms. “Besides being a star player, he’s a hit with the ladies—like you said. I bet you’ll have an influx of mail or visitors trying to meet him.”

  Dane froze and his blood chilled. Meet him? As in coming to my house? “Hammell.”

  “He’s popular, but not around here. He hit a skid. The batting average sucks so he may not be able to coast on his appearance.” Hammell shrugged. “Or he could find his mojo again.”

  “Dear God,” Dane muttered. He frowned and the dull ache behind his eyes increased. “Do you realize how shallow that sounds? The ballplayer is handsome and popular, but because he can’t hit at the moment, he’s worthless? That’s a terrible thing to say.”

  “He’s not worthless, but most of his fans follow him because he’s great at the plate. It’s the fickle cost of fame. They want you when you’re on top, but the moment you slide, they hide,” Hammell said.

  “You sound like a bad poet or a horrible motivational poster,” Dane said. “It’s all awful.”

  “I know and I’m not saying I abandoned him. Zeke thinks he’s fabulous and Jenna watches him because he’s cute,” Hammell said. “They’re seven and thirteen. She’s discovering boys aren’t gross and I’m not happy about it, but it’s life. As for you, you’ve got a great ballplayer in your home.”

  “I guess.” Dane couldn’t back out now. Tanner needs a place to stay so he can chase his dream. Tanner needs to focus on his game, right?

  “That’s why they get sponsorship—so they can worry about the game, not their living arrangements,” Hammell said. “Didn’t Devlin explain everything to you?”

  “He did.” He’d just ignored half of what he’d been told and read.

  “Then you’ll be fine.” Hammell stood and retrieved his phone from the desk. “Enjoy the ride. Don’t spend all your time here at the office. The patients need you, but you need to take care of you, too.”

  “I know.”

  “I wonder if you do. You’re not invincible.”

  He hadn’t thought Hammell worried about him this much. “I am.”

  “By living at work?”

  Damn it. Hammell had him there. “Hammell.”

  “You’re always here. Go home. See if the baseball boy is there. Flirt with him. That’s my prescription for your future.” Hammell nodded once. “You need to work what you’ve got.”

  Dane considered the suggestion. He wanted to move on but wasn’t sure how. His past kept coming to the forefront and his heart still ached from being dumped. “Did you know Devlin split Phillip and me up?”

  “No. Why?” Hammell asked. “Although I can’t say I’m not thrilled. You and Phillip were a horrible match.”

  “Devlin said something close to that.”

  “He wasn’t any better for you than Phillip, but if I had to pick one of them, Devlin was the lesser of the two evils.”

  “Devlin forbade me from dating the baseball player,” Dane said. “He was quite blunt about it.”

  “Ah.”

  He’s got nothing for that comment? Good. Dane wasn’t done. He had to clarify the situation. “Besides, we’re all assuming an awful lot.”

  “How so?”

  “We think this guy will like me. Tanner might not even be gay,” Dane said. “No one seems to have thought of that.”

  “True.”

  “And we all seem to think he’ll want to be with me. I’m available, but I’m not a catch to everyone.” Dane sighed again. “What if he’s not wanting a relationship with me? I’d be investing time and energy in something that’ll never happen.”

  “You aren’t sure about him, either?”

  “I don’t know what to think.” Dane leaned back in his chair. The springs squeaked. He wasn’t ready to admit he’d overthought, assumed and hoped more was possible than Tanner could give.

  “Well…shit.” Hammell pocketed his phone. “I’m sorry I assumed you’d kind of figured out he was gay and interested. Do you get the vibe there’s a chance?”

  “No.” He hadn’t spent much time around Tanner, but still.

  “Then see if you can be friends. Maybe he has someone he knows might be interested. You could double date.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “See? That’s the negative thing you’ve got to stop doing.” Hammell stared at him. “Go home. Make a friend. You’re living together for the next few months, right? You’re better off being civil and possibly friendly than not running into each other at all.”

  Hammell had another point. Dane opened his laptop long enough to log out then pushed away from his desk. He turned off the lamp. He said nothing as he tucked his papers and tablet into his messenger bag. “I’m leaving, then.” He slid his phone into the front flap of the bag and patted his pocket for his keys. “I’ve got everything and your message has been received. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “There you go. This is what you need.” Hammell followed him out of the office space. “Hang out with your player.”

  “Foxy?” The name didn’t fit the Tanner he knew.

  “Yeah. Find out if he lives up to the name.”

  “If you and I weren’t friends, I’d hate you for that comment,” Dane said.

  “I know, but you don’t hate me.” Hammell laughed. “Get out of here.”

  “Doing that now.” Dane left the building and stepped into the night air. The leaves had filled out on the trees. A light wind wrapped around him. He missed having afternoons to himself. No, he missed having someone to come home to after a long day at the office. He checked the app Devlin had conned him into installing on his phone earlier in the day. According to the application, he’d know where Tanner was at all times—at least at the ballfield. He tapped Tanner’s name. A photo of Tanner appeared on the screen, then a camera view of Tanner at batting practice.

  His mouth watered. He’d seen guys in baseball uniforms before, but none of them filled out the suit the way Tanner did. The tight fabric showed off his muscle and long legs. Each time Tanner glanced back at the camera and grinned, Dane swore he was mugging for the viewer. Is he?

  Part of him wanted to consider Tanner might be smiling for him. Who else could see the video? He didn’t know. The rest of Dane doubted Tanner cared. The man had to live up to his public persona and impress. He hadn’t been dubbed Foxy for nothing.

  Dane groaned and closed the app. The longer he watched Tanner at batting practice, the more he’d embarrass himself. He rubbed the growing bulge in his trousers. He’d gotten a damn erection from observing Tanner at work. He put his phone in the console then stuffed the key into the ignition. He should go home.

  The more he thought about Tanner and what he’d seen, a few issues came to mind. Once he got home, he’d have to ask Tanner some questions. According to the calendar, it was already the middle of June. Didn’t training for the new season start in April? Spring training? Why hadn’t Tanner joined the team before now? Had he been traded? Why? Was any of this Dane’s business? Not really, but he wanted to know.

  Dane drove across town but barely paid attention to the landscape. All he could see was the image of Tanner in those tight pants. He managed to pull into his driveway and pa
rked in the garage. No fans. He’d expected to see people milling around the hedges surrounding his home—if Tanner was so popular, wouldn’t there be fans waiting for him? Maybe the fans were more civilized in Cedarwood. He closed the garage door. Silence enveloped him. Being home and in the blessed quiet centered Dane. He tended to overthink things. From his patients and their needs to his personal life—he considered all angles and outcomes before making a decision. The mentality worked great when treating his patients but lousy in his life outside the medical office.

  Then Tanner had come along. He hadn’t seen Tanner before, yet he’d agreed to sponsor him. The choice had changed his life and he had no idea how different it would end up being, but he’d done it. No thought—just action. What had he been thinking?

  The light came on, forcing him to blink. He’d been adjusted to the darkness. He frowned. What the hell? He noticed the figure at the window of the door into the mudroom. Tanner. He waved. Why not be polite?

  Tanner pushed the door open. “Thought I heard you come in. Did you have a rough day?”

  Dane left the car. “Not really.” He retrieved his bag from the passenger seat. “The flu is going around Cedarwood, a farmer broke his hand and another accidentally shot a nail into his shin. It’s rather routine stuff—save for the nail.” He shrugged. “I’m used to something new coming into the office every day.”

  “A nail in his shin?” Tanner shrank back from Dane. “Really?”

  “Most days I leave my work at the office, but you asked.” He headed into the house. “What brings you home so early? I thought you were at the stadium.”

  “I was, but we’re done for the day.” Tanner followed him through the kitchen to the bar. “I saw your office. I never went in, but I stopped in the parking lot. I also visited the bookstore in town. The guys working there are nice. Are they brothers?”

  Dane nodded. “Colin and Farin Baker. They opened it two years ago, I believe.” He carried his bag to his home office then returned to the kitchen. “Colin’s dating Officer Jordan Hargrove…for a year, I think. Farin, Colin’s brother, is seeing a teacher at the elementary school, Steve Moore. They’re all nice guys. Colin’s got a son, Gage, and Steve’s taking care of his baby sister, Genie.”

  “Wow.” Tanner sank onto one of the bar stools. “So no one minds they’re gay?”

  “People mind, but those four don’t pay them any attention. What those guys do isn’t anyone else’s business and they aren’t hurting anyone.” Dane rapped his knuckles on the counter. “I have the same mentality. I’m gay and I’m not hurting anyone. It shouldn’t matter that I’m gay or anything else.”

  “No, it shouldn’t.” Tanner paused. “I investigated the house this afternoon. I’m in awe of the glass doors on your home office. Those are beautiful. Are they custom pieces?”

  He hadn’t invited anyone over in so long, he’d forgotten the nuances of his house and how others might be impressed by his choices. “They are custom. I had a patient who worked in glass and wanted to thank me for giving him care. He and I had a deal. He fashioned the doors for my office and I helped treat his asthma.”

  “I love them.” Tanner didn’t leave his seat. “Your office is full of papers and they’re everywhere. Do you actually leave your work at the medical office?”

  “No.” Dane chuckled. “I don’t.” He sat beside Tanner. “Until you came along, I didn’t have anyone to ask about my day. It’s strange and refreshing.” He liked the way they fell into conversation so easily.

  “Why?” Tanner frowned. “You don’t have a boyfriend, do you? Not even anyone you’re sort of seeing?”

  “I had a few boyfriends, but they weren’t interested in long-term.” Gee, that sounded horrible, but his partners hadn’t been nosy about his life—just his bank account. “I can’t talk about most of my work because of privacy laws, but it’s nice to have someone to chat with.”

  “I bet it is.” Tanner folded his arms and stared at Dane. “I heard you logged into the team app.”

  “You heard? Does the app tell you I did? Or does Devlin?” Dane asked.

  “I get a notification, but yeah, Devlin let me know,” Tanner said. “Since I wasn’t playing when you logged in, it’ll show you what I did today. It’s so you can keep tabs on me and make sure I’m doing what I say I am. Some players will show up for practice or try to make the team, get sponsorship so they have a place to live, then won’t put in the work. The app keeps us honest and lets you know how your investment is doing.”

  “That makes sense.” Dane sighed. He liked accountability and Tanner’s honesty.

  Tanner grinned. “I’m a late addition to the team, so I’m getting caught up. I’ll play my first game on Saturday. Are you coming to watch? I can get you tickets for the owners’ section if you’re interested.”

  “I work this Saturday.” But he wished he could be at the game.

  “Why?” Tanner blurted. “Sorry. I guess people get sick every day of the week, not just Monday through Friday.”

  Dane shrugged. He could’ve sworn he smelled the tanginess of cheese and basil in the air. Did he have anything to make pasta in the house? “Did you cook?” He didn’t see pans on the stove or in the sink. “Or did you order out?”

  “I brought home food from the stadium.” Tanner blushed. “I’m horrible in the kitchen. When I worked at the restaurant, I was removed from my position as a cook. I burned too many dishes and made a ton of messes.”

  “You’re a better waiter than cook, eh?” He shrugged out of his sport coat. “I can’t do much in the kitchen, either, but I do enjoy eating.”

  “Which is why we’re good together.” Tanner left his seat and rounded the bar. He pulled a box from the paper bag on the counter beside the microwave. “I brought home enough for us both.” He pushed the box toward Dane. “You can’t exist on air and water alone. Eat up.”

  “Thank you.” The tips of his ears burned. Now who was embarrassed? He waited for Tanner to sit again. “You don’t have to cater for me—but I appreciate the gesture.” He opened the box. “Lasagna. I love this dish. Where did you order from?”

  “It’s funny you asked that. I guess the powers that be are upgrading the food choices at the stadium and we were encouraged to try the offerings.” Tanner folded his arms and rested his chin on his hand. “There was more than enough, so I brought some home for leftovers and you, too.”

  “Thanks.” He retrieved a fork from the drawer then returned to his stool. “I forgot there are fancy food vendors at the stadium.” He dug into the lasagna. A groan rumbled in his throat. He’d never had anything so delicious. The gooey cheese melted on his tongue and the cooks had added the right ratio of noodle to sauce. “This is wonderful.”

  “I liked it, too.” Tanner stared at him a tad too long. “I should leave you to eat.”

  “Why?” he asked between bites. “I’m supposed to spend time with you. Stay.”

  “You gave me the impression you wanted to keep our lives separate.” Tanner stayed on the stool. “Did you change your mind?”

  “I did.” He swallowed his current bite. “You’re living at my house. We should get to know each other.” Why be standoffish?

  Tanner didn’t speak right away. An odd look crossed his face. “Okay. What do you want to know about me?”

  If you’re gay, single, looking for someone…interested in me? He had to play it safe. “Where are you from?”

  “Keilorsburg, Indiana. I left when I was six. Dad got a job in Pittsfield. Mom and Dad split when I was twelve. I guess she couldn’t handle him working nights.” Tanner shrugged. “I lived with my mother until she decided the cost of my sports equipment was too high. Dad liked me being an athlete, so he footed the bill. I spent all of high school in Pittsfield. After I graduated, I went to Detroit, then Indianapolis until I made it through two years at the community college. I played baseball when I wasn’t in class and a scout for the state college recruited me to play for them. I earned my degree in spo
rts broadcasting—meaning I can do play-by-play at a baseball game—and I was drafted by a semi-pro team. I went from St. Louis to Raleigh, then to Durham before landing in Gary, Indiana. Now I’m here.”

  “You’ve had quite a life.” He hadn’t realized he’d polished off his dinner until he scraped the bottom of the box. He also hadn’t put much thought into what kind of life Tanner had led. Tanner had seen more of the world than Dane. “I’m impressed.”

  “Don’t be. I can’t seem to keep a job. I play well and bring in fans then get traded when I hit a slump.” Tanner flattened his palm on the counter. “I’m not good at putting down roots and I travel with just enough to get by. I never know when I’ll be traded to another team and have to leave.”

  “Doesn’t that suck? Don’t you want to belong somewhere for more than a season?” Dane asked. He pushed the box away and stretched. “I’d hate to keep moving.”

  A wry smile curled on Tanner’s lips as he sat up. “Some days I love being a wanderer. It’s nice to go on adventures and every team I’ve played for involved some sort of journey.”

  “But other days?” Does he want to put down roots in Cedarwood?

  “I miss having a home base. I spent a lot of time alone or with the team. The guys are great, but right now I’m still an outsider. They’ve got their family here and friends. I’m still finding my way.” Tanner swiveled on his seat. “ Devlin can probably get you passes, too.”

  “I have a ticket, but don’t you have family? Your father doesn’t visit?” Dane asked. He wasn’t close to his father, but living across the country from each other made being tight almost impossible. Plus, his father had his second family. Dane was a throwback to his father’s first marriage and not as important as the new one.

  Tanner shook his head and toyed with Dane’s fork. “My father loves baseball, but he works a lot and still lives in Indiana. On top of that, he’s had heart problems and a quadruple bypass surgery a couple years ago. He’s still paying the bills from that and I doubt he’d make the trip. As for my mother, she lost control when I was sixteen. I haven’t talked to her in nearly ten years.”