Page 90 of Stealing Home

Dom leaned across the table and plucked the wood dust from his hair. Gavin caught his wrist before he could pull away and pressed a quick kiss to his palm. The gesture was small enough that no one else on the patio noticed, but Dom felt it for the rest of lunch.

They had forty-three minutes together. Gavin’s phone rang twice with questions from a tile installer and Lucia woke up long enough to stare suspiciously at both of them before falling back asleep. Dom ate three tacos, stole half of Gavin’s chips, and left early enough to make it to the ballpark before the report time for that night’s game.

It was one of the best dates Dom had ever been on.

Two nights later, Gavin was waiting on his porch when Dom and Lucia got home after a home game. Dom had gone hitless and struck out with runners on second and third in the eighth, and by the time he’d made the drive home, he’d replayed the failed at-bat in his head enough times that he started considering a career change.

Gavin stood from the top step, and Dom nearly stumbled at the sight of him. A faded black T-shirt stretched taut across his chest, and those jeans, Christ, he thought. They were just tight enough to make it clear what power those thighs had, but not so tight that there wasn’t still mystery. Dom made himself look up before he walked into the porch railing.

Gavin came down the steps, reaching for the diaper bag slipping off Dom’s shoulder. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

Gavin’s mouth curved. “You okay?”

“Ask me again when you’re done wearing those jeans.” He promptly turned bright red. He hadn’t meant to say that aloud.

Gavin glanced down at himself, then back at Dom. “Would you prefer I take them off?”

Dom tightened his grip on Lucia’s carrier. “I’m holding a baby. You can’t say things like that when I’m holding a baby.”

Gavin chuckled. “You started it.”

Dom looked at him for a second, then climbed the steps. At the door, he shifted the carrier to his other hand and dug his keys from his pocket. Gavin stood close behind him, warm enough that Dom could feel him without touching. The key missed the lock.

“Don’t,” Dom said.

“I didn’t say anything.” Gavin sounded way too amused.

“You were thinking it,” Dom muttered.

“I was thinking I’m glad I came over.”

That was worse. Dom could defend himself against teasing. He had no idea what to do with Gavin saying things like that in a voice that made him want to lean back and let Gavin’s broad chest hold him up for a minute.

He got the door open on the second try and set the carrier on the floor long enough to drop his keys into the bowl. Gavin put the diaper bag next to the carrier and turned toward him. Dom caught the front of his shirt.

“Hi,” he said again.

Gavin’s eyes dropped to his mouth. “Hi.”

The kiss was supposed to be quick, but then Gavin’s hand settled at the back of his neck and Dom forgot about speed. He stepped closer, pressing a palm against Gavin’s chest. Beneath the worn cotton, Gavin was warm and solid, and Dom smiled against Gavin’s lips when his heartbeat sped up. He let himself have another few seconds before pulling back.

Gavin brushed his thumb along Dom’s jaw. “Better?”

“Ask me after I get her to bed.”

Gavin pressed another kiss to his mouth. “Take your time.”

Lucia slept through being unstrapped from the carrier and the trip upstairs but woke when Dom gently placed her on the changing table. Her eyes opened slowly, unfocused at first, then narrowed as if he’d committed a mortal sin by interrupting her slumber.

“I know,” he whispered, one hand on her stomach as he rummaged in the drawer below for pajamas. “You’ve had a long night. All that sleeping while I worked must have been exhausting.”

He studied her for a second, smiling at the sight of her dressed for the game in a onesie that looked like a miniature replica of Dom’s Barracudas jersey, with LUCKY across the back above his number. The team had surprised them with it shortly after finding out about Lucia. Once the initial shock wore off, the guys had held a meeting—without Dom—and unanimously decided that Lucia had an entire team of honorary uncles. The onesie arrived a week later with a card that read: To Lucky, from your team of uncles. Dom had called them ridiculous.

But she’d worn it for every home game since.

Dom changed her diaper and traded the onesie for a floral sleeper. By the time he sat in the rocker with a bottle, the frustration from the game had receded enough for him to focus on something else. Like Gavin in those jeans. He watched Lucia drink, eyes half-closed as she drifted toward sleep, and tried not to think about how much time had passed.