As soon as my brother is settled in my room, I softly close the hotel door behind me, hoping not to wake Max. I almost knocked on the door between my room and Miller’s to ask her to watch him for one more hour before calling it a night, but when I had gotten back from my game, she was nose deep in her cookbooks and laptop, searching for inspiration, I’m sure.
Last week, after she told me about her job, I googled her name. Surprisingly, I hadn’t done that before. I suppose because she’s Monty’s daughter and I already knew she was more than I could handle, I didn’t think there was much more for me to find.
I was wrong.
The Internet was littered with her name. Impressive isn’t a strong enough word to describe Miller Montgomery’s career. Her accomplishments are unheard of for someone her age. She’s been featured in articles, won prestigious awards, worked under some of the biggest names in her industry before becoming one herself. But it was the pictures that shocked me more than anything. Her in a crisp white chef’s coat, hair in a slicked back bun. No nose ring, tattoos covered. She was hardly recognizable from the girl I met in the elevator just weeks ago.
She shows up every day in a different pair of overalls, typically with her feet bare, but after seeing her professional side online, there’s a part of me that feels privileged that Max and I get the lesser-known side of Miller, no matter how wild it may be.
She likes my son. My son likes her, and that makes me like her just a bit more.
After my last start on the road, I lied about not needing to cool down from the game. This time, I can’t. I pitched into the seventh inning tonight and my shoulder is screaming. I doubt I’ll be able to pick up Max with my throwing arm tomorrow.
Heading to the top floor of our hotel in Houston, I grab a couple of towels and make my way outside to the rooftop pool, needing to get a few laps in to cool down my muscles. It’s late, after midnight, and the pool is closed to the public, but it’s never stopped me before. I live for the peace of a solo swim after a game.
Only tonight, I’m not alone.
Steam from the neighboring hot tub rises behind her, but she sits with her feet dangling in the pool. It’s a warm July night, and the summer moon provides just enough light to outline her. Miller in a two-piece suit. A strapless forest green piece of fabric covers her chest, and her bottoms are pulled up so high over her hips, every inch of her thighs that I like so much are exposed.
She’s fucking stunning, all earth tones and tattooed skin glistening under the moonlight.
Opening the gate, I make plenty of noise so she knows she’s no longer alone.
“Breaking and entering, Rhodes? Not very responsible of you.”
“Maybe I’ve got a wild streak you don’t know about.”
She chuckles a hearty laugh. “Yeah. Okay.”
Little does she know, pre-dad Kai was as wild as her.
“I figured you’d be in your room looking for inspiration in one of those cookbooks you’re traveling with.”
She nods towards the summer moon sitting just above the city line in the distance. “This feels pretty inspirational.”
She’s not wrong. It’s stunning out here.
Both the view and the girl I shouldn’t be looking at.
I drop my towels onto a nearby lounge chair and in my periphery, I watch Miller as she begins to stand, pulling her legs out of the water, my eyes wandering every inch of that wet skin.
“Where are you going?”
She gestures to the hotel. “Giving you the pool. I figured you’d want it to yourself.”
“You should stay.”
Okay . . . I have no idea why I suggested that.
She hesitates, but doesn’t answer me. Simply retakes her seat, her red-painted toes dipping back into the water.
Pulling my shirt over my head, I toss it on the chair before adjusting the waistband on my trunks. I catch Miller’s greens taking their time tracking every ridge of my stomach and chest from across the pool, only the glow of the lights under the water allowing me to see it happen.
It’s been so long. So fucking long since I’ve noticed a woman’s attention on me. So long since I’ve been looked at in a way that makes me feel like a man and not just someone’s dad. I preen under her gaze, my chest expanding from the attention.
“You have tattoos.” It’s a statement, but her voice holds a bit of surprise in the tone.
Looking down at my ribs and thigh, I note the ink she’s studying.
“I always thought you were judging me for mine.”
Fuck. Was I? Maybe I did, but it wasn’t that she had tattoos or a septum ring or anything about the way she looked. I assumed if a woman were to ever watch my son, she’d be a sweet old lady with a knack for crafts and gardening. I didn’t expect a foul-mouthed firecracker who’s also a badass in the kitchen.
“Nah. I like yours. They suit you.”
Miller’s lips tick.
“Drinking at 9 a.m., though? I was judging you for that.”
She chuckles and her raspy laugh is the last thing I hear before I dive headfirst into the deep end of the pool. I swim across the length to the shallow end where she sits before popping out of the water to find myself a foot or so in front of her, raking a hand through my hair to move it from my face.
“Dear God, Kai. No wonder you have a kid. Just looking at you like this would get any woman pregnant.”
I huff a laugh. “Let’s not joke about anyone getting pregnant again, please. I’m doing a terrible job raising one. I couldn’t handle another.”
She sits up straighter. “What are you talking about?”
It’s too late to get into that conversation. I’m too tired. Too sore. My mind is too exhausted to think of anything other than loosening my shoulder and falling into bed. I’ll have to be up with Max in a handful of hours, but Miller’s dark green bathing suit, wet and suctioned to every crevice of her body, has me eager to pull an all-nighter just to stare at her.
Monty’s daughter. Monty’s stunning-as-fuck daughter.
With that, I duck under the water and swim the length of the pool again, stretching out my shoulder and hoping the distance between us will help me forget how beautiful that woman is.
But with my eyes closed, she’s all I can see, and when I come back up for air on the shallow side and find her sitting there, leaning back on her palms, I know the image won’t be leaving my mind for far too long.
“You should know by now that ignoring me isn’t going to make me forget, Kai.” Her tone is even, confident. “You’re a fantastic dad. And if someone needs to tell you, I’ll be the one to do it.”
I don’t believe her, but there’s no point in arguing. “Thank you.”
“Who’s watching him right now?”
“Isaiah.”
“Where’s his mom?”
A startled laugh escapes me and I slip under the water for a moment to gain my bearings. “It’s a little late for that talk, don’t you think?” is what I say when I come back up.
“Nope. I think it’s the perfect time.”
I turn away from her, pacing and pushing my way through the water. The view is stunning from up here, the entirety of the city below us. The night is warm, the water is calming, and this almost naked woman has my lips feeling real loose.
“Seattle, I’d imagine. But I’m not sure.”
Before I know it, I hear a small splash as Miller enters the water behind me. She swims to where I stand before she pulls herself out and takes a seat on the ledge, forcing me to look at her.
Forced. I laugh to myself. Sort of feels like a privilege to watch Miller Montgomery dripping wet in a bathing suit.
Her voice is softer than it typically is. “What happened?”
Water drips down her body, some of it falling between her tits and my attention is glued. She knows it too and like some kind of sex hypnotist, she scoots slightly closer and asks again, “What happened with Max’s mom?”
“Are you using your body to distract me?”
“Is it working?”
I scrub a palm over my face because, yes, it’s working. A little too fucking well. “She was um . . . someone I was casually seeing when I played in Seattle. I met her at a local restaurant the team frequented. Ashley was our server. It was never anything serious, and it was over as soon as I signed with Chicago. Just a fling, or so I thought. I moved to the Midwest in the fall, and just about a year later, she showed up at my apartment with my six-month-old son in her arms.”
“She never told you she was pregnant?” Miller’s brows are pinched, anger evident.
“She didn’t know until after I had already left. But, no, I don’t think she had planned to ever tell me.”
“I hate her.”
I chuckle. “I don’t.”
“How could you not?”
“Because she genuinely believed she was doing the right thing, however misguided it was. She didn’t want me to think she was trying to trap me or take my money, so she had planned to do it on her own, but six months in, she realized she didn’t want to be a mother. That’s when she showed up.”
Miller scoffs. “I’ll hold a grudge for you then since you’re being sane and reasonable. That’s fucked, Kai. You missed out on six whole months.”
“I know I did, and I think about those six months every day of my life. What I missed, what Max learned without me around. I don’t hate her, but I am angry with her for not telling me about him sooner. When she showed up in Chicago, there was no question in my mind that I would be the one to raise him.”
“And you were sure he was yours? Just like that?”
Lifting my brows, I wait for her to connect the dots. Max has my steel-blue eyes, my dark hair. There’s no mistaking that he’s mine.
“Okay,” she laughs, holding up her hands. “Stupid question.”
“I’ve already missed so much, I’m afraid to miss any more.”
The space goes eerily quiet, the silence screaming.
“Sorry,” I apologize. “It’s too late to be getting deep on you.”
“It’s never too late to go deep in me, Baseball Daddy.”
A startled laugh bursts from my lips, breaking the tension. “You’re ridiculous.”
She smiles and I like it far too much. I want to stare at her, tell her too many things when she’s looking at me like that. So instead, I dip under the water and swim away until I feel her on my heels, taking my same path in the pool.
Popping out in the deep end, I tread until she breaks the surface as well. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Following you around this goddamn pool until you tell me the rest.”
“The rest of what?”
“The rest of the story. Why you don’t trust anyone with your son. Why you don’t trust me.” She uses her arms and legs far more than she needs to, just to stay upright in the water. “Also, I’m not a great swimmer, so if I drown, that’s on your conscience for life.”
“I do trust you.”
She stills, those green eyes going wide before she slowly starts to sink.
“All right, Michael Phelps.” Reaching out, I wrap an arm around her waist and pull her into my body. “No need to sacrifice your life here. I’ll talk.”
Our legs tangle under the water, our skin sliding against one another. The water is plenty warm, but I feel the line of goosebumps scatter up Miller’s spine underneath my palm. Hand snaking around her hip, her legs hook around my waist, eyes slowly dipping to my lips because they’re far too close to hers.
I clear my throat, swimming us back to the shallow end.
When I reach the height she can stand, I still don’t let go. When she tries to remove her legs from my hips, I tighten my grip. She feels good. Too good. I truly have no idea how long it’s been since I’ve had a woman’s body on mine, but I don’t want it to end just yet.
“You trust me?” she whispers.
“I think so.”
“Why?”
“God, I have no idea. You’re like a bull in a china shop so maybe I’m just clear out of my mind.”
Slowly, I walk her back to the ledge, depositing her to sit, but I don’t leave. I stay standing between her open legs, my palms flat on the concrete bracketing them.
“Ask your questions.”
“Why have you fired every one of his nannies?” She doesn’t hesitate, but I do.
My head drops, Miller’s thighs right there in front of me, and I have to fist my hands to keep from touching them.
“Can I tell you why?” she quietly asks. “I think you want to stop playing baseball. I think you’re so worried you’re going to miss out on the big moments, that Max’s caretaker is going to be the first one to experience them. I think you’re so hung up on what you did miss that you’re desperate not to miss any more.”
Inhaling through my nose, I back away in the water because we’re far too close and she’s seeing far too much.
“I know what it’s like to notice your parents’ absence,” I tell her. “The day I was drafted, Isaiah was the only one in the crowd for me, and it was the same thing when it was his turn. I was also the only one there for him when he got his driver’s license or when he had his heart broken for the first time. The last thing I’ll ever be is an absentee dad. I won’t miss the important stuff, and even more, I don’t want to miss the everyday, insignificant moments. I want them all.”
Silence falls over us as Miller kicks in the water, her foot brushing my leg.
Her typically confident demeanor turns soft. “Where were your parents?”
“My mom died.”
“So did mine.”
My eyes jerk to hers as she sits on the ledge.
“Cancer,” she says.
“Car accident.”
“And your dad?”
All right, that’s too much for tonight. “Long story.”
She seems to understand my need to change the subject. “You need to have a little fun in your life.”
A smile ticks up at the memories. “Trust me, my twenties were plenty fun. Once Isaiah was settled in the league, I lived it up. I was stupid and reckless, and I don’t need to go back to that now that I have a son to raise.”
“You don’t need to go back, but you could find a balance between then and now. Now, you’re all grumpy”—she lowers her voice, mimicking me—“ ‘I equally hate playing baseball and people who watch my kid.’ ”
“I don’t hate baseball. I love it, actually. I just hate that it takes me away from Max.”
“And the people who watch your kid?”
My mouth twitches. “To be determined.”
She laughs, smacking me in the chest with the back of her hand, but I catch it before she can pull away. “How old were you when your mom died?”
The tone in the air shifts again.
“Five.”
“Geez,” I exhale. “I didn’t realize Monty was so young when he lost his wife.”
“Oh, they were never married. Actually, they had only been seeing each other for about a year when my mom died.” Miller slips off the ledge, into the water between my body and the side of the pool. “He’s not my biological dad.”
What?
She swims away from me, but like she said, she’s not a great swimmer, so she doesn’t get far. She’s been chasing me in the pool all night, but for once, I’m the one determined to catch her.
“Keep talking,” I urge as she crests the water.
“He adopted me.” She wipes the water droplets from her face. “The day before she died, my mom asked him to adopt me. It was a ridiculous thing to ask of him. He was twenty-five years old, playing professional baseball. I was simply his girlfriend’s kid, but he did it anyway. My mom was a single mom, raised me on her own up until then. My biological father was a one-night thing. Monty adopted me, we changed my last name to his because she wanted us to. He left the league and took a college coaching job to take care of me because I didn’t have anyone else. It’s the most selfless thing anyone has ever done for me, and I feel terrible about it.”
I’m frozen in place, standing in the shallow end of the pool, stunned by the vulnerability Miller has never worn around me. She uses humor to dissipate tense situations, but she’s not right now because Monty deserves a moment of recognition. She wants me to understand how good he is. How important he is to her.
I fucking love that guy.
“He’s worried you’ll retire the same way he did,” she continues.
It’s something I think about daily. It would take away a lot of the stress I carry. Sure, I’d be giving up a career I love, but it’d be to do a job I love even more.
“Don’t,” she whispers. “Take it from the child of someone who gave up exactly what you’re thinking of giving up. Max will live with that guilt for the rest of his life.”
This is why she came back last week. This must be what Monty told her to give me another chance.
“Miller, I’m exhausted. All the fucking time.”
“Let me help you. Let me help you find the balance.”
She’s serious about this, about the guilt she carries. But why? I know Monty. I know the kind of man he is. He’d give up everything for his kid, the same way I would. How does she not get that? There’s a different kind of love that comes into your life when you have a child. Monty didn’t sacrifice his career, he simply changed directions because of how much he loved that little girl. So much so that he carries her softball photo to every away game so he can place it on his desk to see her.
Her eyes bounce between mine, pleading, but before I can answer, the blinding light from a flashlight roams over her face.
“Hey!” a security guard yells. “The pool is closed!”
Turning, I use my body to cover Miller’s, my back to her, partly to get the light off her face, but mostly because I feel real possessive seeing her in this little green bathing suit and I have no plans to share the view.
She falls into a fit of laughter behind me.
“Sorry about that!” I hold my hands up, out of the water. “We’ll go.”
Miller continues to giggle.
“I’m holding you responsible for this one, Montgomery. Here I am, spending one night with you and already getting in trouble.”
“Trust me,” she chuckles. “I have plans to get you in a whole lot more trouble than that.”
That’s exactly what I’m worried about.
