The Secret Hook-Up

Addie’s glowing when we pull up to the teahouse. She’s been trying to guess what new ways to die I managed to get put into the game, and I’m refusing to tell her if she’s hot or cold.

But I do tell her to update the app on her phone.

It’s possible things will glitch.

Rush jobs sometimes do.NôvelDrama.Org owns all © content.

But that’ll make it all the more fun.

When we reach the hostess stand, we’re immediately taken to our table.

And that’s when I realize there’s something worse that could happen here than our pictures being taken and leaked to the sports gossip pages.

I looked up the teahouse so I’d be ready for this part of our afternoon. The website was plastered with pictures of groups of women, of daddies and daughters on afternoon teddy bear dates, of families with little kids.

Made sense. I used to take Paisley for experiences like this when I’d go home for visits in the summer, before she outgrew teddy bear tea dates.

What I didn’t anticipate was how many Fireballs baseball players and their significant others would be sitting at every one of the tables surrounding us.

Addie’s steps slow as she glances around the room, obviously seeing what I’m seeing too.

“Hey, Coach.” One of the guys lifts his chin at her and goes back to his menu like this is completely normal.

Her shoulders bunch at the second Hey, Coach from deeper in the room.

By the third greeting, she stops and spins in a circle.

There are twelve tables in this room of the teahouse.

Eleven of them are occupied by her players. If it’s not one of her players and their significant other, it’s two players together.

Practically the entire team is here.

“What’s going on?” she asks the room at large while the hostess fiddles with the menus.

“We’re here having tea,” Luca Rossi says. His partner gives Addie a pained but supportive smile.

“Tea is delicious,” Brooks Elliott adds from another table.

“Good for your superstitions,” his wife pipes up.

“We should have tea in the Gatorade coolers, Coach,” Diego Estevez says. He’s sitting with Rory McBride.

The young guy whose name Paisley wore on her jersey.

The young guy who better never, ever, ever, ever look at my niece wrong.

Addie spins in a slow circle again, staring at all of her players.

Half the tables have the team’s roster of pitchers, who aren’t really her players, since they don’t bat.

They all grin at her.

“Enjoy your tea, Coach.” Francisco Lopez lifts a teacup toward her in a mock toast while his girlfriend whispers for him to behave himself.

“And your table is here.” Our hostess points to the lone empty table with forced cheer. “Have you had tea with us before?”

“Yes,” Addie says.

“Not here, but I’ve been to tea,” I say.

Our hostess’s forced cheer doesn’t waver. “Wonderful.”

I pull out Addie’s seat.

“Did they pay you to do this?” Addie whispers to our server as she takes her spot on the floral cushioned dining chair.

“There was an arrangement with management,” the server whispers back. “I have no idea how much money was involved.”

“Look at her wrong and you’ll have broken laces for a year,” Robinson Simmons says on a cough.

Relatively impressive to get that much out on a cough.

His date’s clearly impressed too. She giggles and leans in and tells him to say it again.

Addie looks back at him. “Gentlemen, it’s your one day off.”

“We wanted tea,” Francisco says.

“And to keep an eye on this guy,” Robinson adds.

“I don’t need babysitters,” Addie says dryly to the room at large as I take my seat across from her and accept a menu from the hostess.

“Here’s the deal,” Luca replies. “You’re like our mom. We don’t like it when men pay over a hundred grand to go on a single date with our mom. It makes us suspicious. Especially since he’s also showing up to games wearing our mom’s name. So we’re going to be good kids who make sure the big bad hockey player isn’t trying to convince our mom that she has to do more than she agreed to do, given the price he paid and the ideas that he might have gotten.”

“I’m your mom?” Addie repeats.

“It’s more accurate than sister,” Diego says.

“I thought we should call you our aunt,” Francisco chimes in. “I got voted down because we listen to you like we’d listen to our moms.”

“And we protect you like we protect our moms,” Brooks says.

I lift my hands. “Are you all serious? How long have we known each other?”

“Long enough that you should’ve told us you were messing around with her four years ago,” Brooks mutters.

Addie spins all the way in her seat to look at him.

Uh-oh.

Coach Addie has entered the chat. “And that’s none of your business.”

“It’s our business if he hurts you,” Brooks’s wife, Mackenzie, says. “Not because it’s bad for the team. But because we care.”

“We’d do this for Coach Dusty too, but he seems to like his dating life being a disaster,” Rory says.

Addie squeezes her eyes shut.

And then the funniest thing happens.

Her mouth twitches.

It’s the tiniest twitch. You have to watch closely to see it.

But I am, and I do.

“All right,” she says, her exasperation quickly morphing into amusement. “You can stay. But only if you all let me kick your asses in Croaking Creatures.”

“We weren’t leaving,” Luca says.

“I could let you duke that out with the Berger twins and half the Thrusters,” Addie replies. “Or you can all behave yourselves and load up Croaking Creatures on your phones.”

Most of the guys and their dates follow orders.

“I’ve known the Berger twins longer than you and I have been with the Fireballs,” Brooks says. “They’d take my side.”

“Duncan, whose side are the Berger twins on?”

“Whoever’s side is most fun,” I reply without hesitation. “If it’s equal fun, they default to hockey loyalty.”

“They’re afraid of my sister-in-law,” Brooks says.

“Everyone’s afraid of your sister-in-law.” Luca’s response is met with a chorus of agreement.

Even Addie briefly seems to acknowledge that as fact. “Is your sister-in-law here?”

“No.”

“Does she write the story or the code for Croaking Creatures?”

“No.”

“So you’re willing to just use her name to threaten a very nice man who made a large donation to charity while knowing he’d appreciate this experience more than the other guy who was twice my age and had—what did you call it, Duncan?”

“Nefarious intentions,” I supply.

All of the players and their significant others look at me.

I fold my hands together on the table and let them.

Now that I know why they’re here, I’m honestly enjoying this. It’s good for Addie to see how much her players care about her.

Calling her mom might’ve crossed a line, but their objective in being here seems to be respectable.

“Do you have nefarious intentions?” Luca asks me.

“Have you met Duncan?” Addie replies for me. “He’s incapable of having nefarious intentions.”

“Aww, thank you,” I murmur.

She blushes. “It’s the truth.”

“You never know what’s in the darkest corners of people’s souls, Coach,” Robinson says.

“What’s in the darkest corner of your soul?” his date whispers.

“I can’t tell you here,” he whispers back.

“So what are your intentions?” Brooks asks me.

I grin. “It was to kick Addie’s ass in Croaking Creatures this afternoon, but now it’s to kick all of your asses.”

“That’s Coach Addie to you,” one of the pitchers says.

“Are you all up on the game or not?” Addie asks.

“We’re up,” another of the pitchers says.

“Almost all of us,” another agrees. “We’re only missing Luca and Brooks. And you and Lavoie.”

Addie looks at the last two, who are at tables next to each other. “Are you in?”

The two men share a look. Their significant others share a more amused look.

“Yeah, we’re in.” Luca shifts his attention to me. “But I can see your feet from here. No footsie.”

“Or handsy,” Brooks adds.

“Or kissy-kissy,” Diego says.

Addie looks at the ceiling and blows out a breath. “Are you all twelve today?”

“If you’re our mom, that would be about right,” Robinson says.

Everyone cracks up.

Even Addie after a beat.

I lean across the table and open her menu for her, which gets me some approving nods and a few more suspicious looks.

Just for fun, I rise, shake out her napkin, and put it in her lap too. “Here. Let me.”

That earns me a warning eyeball that has me suppressing a snicker.

By the time I’ve sat back down, she’s smiling too. “You did that on purpose to annoy them,” she whispers.

“It’s the nefarious in me.”

She laughs.

I get more warning eyeballs.

A server approaches our table. “Welcome. You’ve been here before? Can I answer any questions?”

I gesture to the room at large. “I’m on a date with their mom, so that means I’m paying for the room.”

“You can’t buy our love, step-Daddie,” Diego says.

Addie pinches her lips together and presses a fist to them. Her cheeks are glowing pink. And her brown eyes are absolutely sparkling with amusement.

If she doesn’t realize yet how much this team likes her and wants the best for her, I hope she’s closer after today.

Would they do this for one of their guy coaches?

No idea.

But if she were coaching a women’s team, they’d show up for her like this.

Zero doubt.

Paisley’s played softball her whole life. I’ve heard her talk about baby shower presents for coaches and the whole team showing up for a funeral when one of her coaches lost a parent.

“There’s not enough money in the world to buy their love,” I tell our server, “but I can pay for their tea. If I don’t, they’ll call me a cheapskate.”

“One test down, three hundred to go,” Brooks says to Luca.

They bump fists.

“The last time I was here, you had a raspberry lemon tea, but I don’t remember the exact name,” Addie says to our server.

The woman nods. “Still do. You want a pot?”

“Yes, please.”

They look at me. “Same,” I say.

“You want to share it? And then try another kind when you’re done?” our server asks.

“Yes,” Addie and I answer together.

“We could even share a teacup,” she adds.

Objections rise around the room, and the most beautiful thing ever happens.

Addie Bloom, Ms. Straight-faced Badass, doubles over laughing in front of her players.

I nudge her foot with mine. “Nice job, Coach.”

“Footsie!” Robinson shrieks.

“Can we also get a tray of the traditional English sandwiches too, but swap the salmon spread for extra egg salad?” I ask our server.

She nods and slips away.

Addie’s still chuckling, but she straightens and looks at me. “You remembered.”

“Of course I remembered. Remember why too.”

She hates salmon.

Had the canned version too many times in salmon patties as a kid.

She’s smiling at me, but it’s a softer smile. A thank you smile. An I like you smile.

And the grumbles going up at the tables around us tell me I’m not the only one noticing.

She shakes her head. “Game time,” she announces. “And anyone who only targets Duncan’s creatures is getting extra treadmill time for a week.”

We both know we’ll have to set up a special island for all of us to play on. But I suspect at least one of the Fireballs—or their significant others—know it, and I’m not surprised when someone calls out the code for us to get to the island to join them.

Nor am I surprised when I’ve been gifted poison, a splinter-handled axe, and a kitten of death within the first three minutes of my character arriving on the group island.

“I said, be nice to Duncan,” Addie says loudly as she stares at her phone.

Snickers go up around the room.

“It’s okay, I know where their lockers are,” I whisper to her. I don’t tell her I know someone who got a 3D printer who’s been stockpiling 3D-printed thrusting Thrusties in case we ever need them for a prank, because that’s need to know and she doesn’t need to know.

Yet.

And in the next moment, she’s squealing with joy. “You got them to make Doc Rover’s evil twin!”

Doc Rover is the keeper of all islands.

He usually plays dumb and is horrified to hear the creatures have died.

But today, Sock Grover is in the house, offering “better tools” from inside his trench coat.

“Better tools” are not, in fact, better.

They’re worse.

Which, for the purposes of the game, is better.

“Congratulations,” I tell Addie. “You’ve found surprise number one.”

“How many more surprises are there?”

“Can’t tell you. That would ruin the surprise.”

“A flying squid?” Diego shrieks. “That wasn’t there yesterday!”

“Your kids are ruining the surprises,” I tell her.

She cracks up and bends over her phone again. “Then I better play faster. You stay right there, Sock Grover. I’ll be back for you later.”

I bend over my phone and get back to work trying to plant boobytraps for the Fireballs while saving my favorite murder weapons to gift to Addie.

Having most of her team show up to crash our date wasn’t how I would’ve planned it.

But it’s fun.

And putting Addie in a position where she’s relaxing with her team is good.

“You stole my black hole, Brooks Elliott!” she shrieks. “You are so paying for this at practice tomorrow.”

Everyone cracks up. Pretty sure no one believes her.

It’s like watching her with the teenage softball team.

I don’t know what she’ll be like with them tomorrow on the ball field.

But I’m glad she’s getting this opportunity today.