Page 23 of Stealing Home

Nico

What? Some babies aren’t cute

Dom looked at Lucia, now asleep in CJ’s arms.

Dom

She’s very cute

Giulia

Can’t wait to meet her. Let us know if you need anything.

Dom stared at that last message longer than he meant to. For the first time since Talia had completely altered his world, he felt himself relax. Nothing had been solved. The DNA test still had to happen. He still needed to meet with the family law attorney and tell the team so he could figure out what would happen with spring training. But Lucia had an army behind her, and that was a good start.

5

GAVIN

The house sat near the end of a quiet cul-de-sac in a neighborhood north of downtown. Gavin slowed his truck as the GPS announced he’d arrived, his gaze sweeping over the two-story Craftsman with its wide front porch, freshly mulched flower beds, and neatly edged lawn. At first glance, it had good bones. He wouldn’t know for sure until he got inside, but he’d looked up the listing after accepting the job. The finishes were mostly standard builder-grade, all safe choices and cookie-cutter fixtures, but the original had gotten the important things right. The floor plan flowed well, oversized windows pulled in natural light from every direction, and the backyard had plenty of room for a deck, a grill, and a crowd. It was the kind of house that needed personality but not a complete overhaul.

It wouldn’t take much to make it a home.

He shifted into Park but left the engine running for another moment. According to the homeowner, he’d found the place, made an offer, and bought it outright in less than two weeks. Less than two weeks. Gavin snorted. On what planet did that happen?

It had taken him nearly three months to find an apartment in San Diego when he moved here after the fire. Before that, he’d spent weeks arguing with insurance adjusters, months watching his savings disappear into temporary housing and legal fees, and another month convincing a landlord that a self-employed contractor whose business had burned to the ground was still worth taking a chance on. Buying a house had stopped being a realistic goal somewhere between signing the paperwork to dissolve the company and his marriage.

Meanwhile, some twentysomething professional baseball player apparently decided he wanted a house and simply…bought one. In less than two weeks.

Must be nice.

Gavin didn’t begrudge anyone their success. Good for him, honestly. If he had somebody who wanted to pay him to hit a baseball instead of spending his days crawling through attics and under decks, he’d happily cash those paychecks too. But still. Professional athletes lived in a different universe, where houses appeared because you wanted one and renovations happened on a baseball team’s schedule.

He climbed out of the truck, grabbing his clipboard and laser measure from the passenger seat. The project itself seemed pretty straightforward from the brief conversation he’d had with the homeowner. He checked the work order to confirm the name: Dominic Rizzo. He knew the name, but not much else except that he wanted one room transformed into a nursery, the entire inside repainted, the upstairs carpet removed and replaced with hardwood to match the downstairs, the back deck stairs rebuilt, and whatever else the homeowner decided couldn’t wait until baseball season.

Hopefully the guy was reasonable. Because no amount of money made paint dry faster.

The front door swung open as he reached the top step and an older woman stepped out. She barely reached his shoulder and her dark hair was streaked with silver and pulled into a loose bun. She smiled brightly.

“You must be Gavin.” She reached out and took his hand in both of hers before he could answer. “I’m Celeste. Dominic’s mother.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Gavin said. Her grip was surprisingly firm.

She looked him up and down with absolutely no shame whatsoever. “Hm.”

Gavin eyed her curiously but stayed silent.

“You have kind eyes,” she said finally.

That was not what he expected. “Thank you…?”

Celeste shrugged. “I like kind eyes.”

Behind her, someone chuckled. “Celeste, let the man inside and leave him alone.” A man appeared in the foyer carrying a tape measure and a notepad. “You’ve known him for four seconds.”

“I don’t need longer to decide whether someone has kind eyes.” She huffed.

The man sighed with the practiced resignation of someone who’d lost similar arguments hundreds of times. He was broad-shouldered with dark hair and looked enough like the baseball player Gavin had Googled the night before that he immediately pegged him as his father.