Page 44 of Stealing Home

Dom read the last message twice before slipping his phone into his pocket.

The player hallway was quieter now that practice had wrapped up. A few clubhouse attendants pushed rolling carts piled high with laundry while stadium staff hurried in the opposite direction. Even on an off day for the team, Pacific Horizon Park never really stopped moving.

He took the stairs up one level toward the Barracudas Family Center. When Dom realized he was going to need childcare during the season, he’d gone to the team’s general manager and made a case for the team creating a daycare. He might be the only player doing the single-dad thing, but Reid Harrington took him seriously when Dom pointed out that there had to be stadium staff who needed help too. Two days after that meeting, the organization sent an internal email to all players and staff announcing the creation of the Family Center, which would be available at no cost to all employees.

When Dom told his agent about that, Matt had sneered, rolled his eyes, and muttered something under his breath about spoiled, trust-fund nepo-babies.

The receptionist smiled the moment he stepped through the doors. “Hi, Dom.”

“Hey, Melissa.”

He signed Lucia out on the tablet before making his way down the short hallway. He paused to watch her through the observation window. She was lying on her stomach on a colorful play mat, kicking her legs furiously while glaring at a stuffed giraffe that apparently refused to do her bidding.

One of the caregivers noticed him first. “Look who’s here, Lucky.”

She scooped his daughter into her arms and brought her toward Dom. The moment she spotted him, her entire face transformed. Her eyes lit up and her mouth opened into a gummy grin. Then she squealed. Loudly. Dom laughed and reached for her.

“Hey, principessa.” He pressed a kiss to her head, breathing in the familiar scent of her lavender baby shampoo. She immediately grabbed a fistful of his T-shirt and buried her face against his shoulder. “Miss me?”

She answered by drooling directly onto his collarbone.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Were you good for Ms. Sandra today?”

The caregiver handed him the day’s report. “She was perfect, as always. Two bottles, one nap that lasted almost an hour, and a fight with a giraffe that you walked in on.” The older woman paused to let Dom scan the paperwork. “She’s leaning to one side a lot during tummy time, so she’s probably getting ready to roll over. She’s three months old now, and some babies start figuring it out around then.”

Dom looked down at his daughter. “Showing off?” Lucia blinked at him innocently. “I don’t believe you for one second.”

He said his goodbyes and carried Lucia back toward the parking lot. She yawned dramatically, and Dom couldn’t stop himself from grinning at how absolutely adorable his daughter was.

“Tough day at work?” he asked. She buried her face in his chest and sighed, and he chuckled. “I know the feeling.”

As he buckled her into her car seat, his thoughts drifted back to Gavin’s last text. Looking forward to it. His stomach fluttered unexpectedly, and he pressed a hand against his abdomen. It was just dinner. That’s it. Just a friend coming over for dinner. As he closed the rear door and climbed behind the wheel, he caught himself smiling all over again.

“Get it together,” he muttered, starting the engine.

Lucia let out a sleepy little coo from the backseat.

“Yeah, I know.” He sighed. “I’m trying.”

The drive home took twenty-three minutes. Not that Dom was counting. Traffic crawled just enough to make him impatient without actually stopping, giving him entirely too much time to think. About dinner and Gavin and how he’d somehow managed to turn inviting a friend over for pasta into something that had his pulse running a little too fast. He blamed the lack of adult socialization, and yes, he included every one of his teammates in that statement.

For the past two months, if he didn’t have a game, his evenings had revolved around Lucia. That’s why he was turning it into a bigger deal than it was. Because he wasn’t dating and this was definitely not a date. His stomach chose that exact moment to do a slow somersault.

“Oh, come on,” he muttered.

It was just after four when they pulled into the driveway. Dom carried Lucia inside, balancing the carrier against one hip while unlocking the front door. This was normally when Lucia would nap, but she’d napped at daycare, and now she showed no signs of being tired, so he pulled out a play mat and placed her on her stomach.

For twenty minutes, Dom watched her rock from side to side, trying to figure out how to roll over. She had the determination of an Olympic athlete and roughly the same amount of dramatic irritation. He folded her basket of laundry while cheering her on.

“So close.”

She kicked furiously and glared at him.

“Try again, baby girl.”

She got halfway onto her side before flopping back onto the blanket with a very indignant grunt.

“There it is,” he laughed. “That’s the attitude.”