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His little pain in the ass was probably going to kill him. He wasn’t sure if Taran liked surprises. According to the GPS in his rental car, he’d arrive at his destination in less than five minutes. Guess he was going to find out.
She’d been great with Will the night of the wedding. Taran got him out of the reception and back to Corey’s suite in what must have been record time. While he and Will talked, she ordered room service and took care of getting Will’s bag delivered to the hotel. And as soon as Will called it a night, Corey took her to their room and properly thanked her. She’d just called it teamwork, which settled firmly in his chest in the best possible way.
It was strange to him to be the needy one in the relationship. In the past, he’d stay busy and coast through the time until he and his girlfriend were back together. It was different with Taran; he wanted to make time to see her, even if it wasn’t easy. Which led to getting permission to skip the game in Atlanta, completing his workout early, and jumping on a flight to Houston. It was already two o’clock, and he had to leave before six to make it back to the hotel and check in with the team. As unpractical as it was, he couldn’t be this close and not see her.
Especially since the craziness of Mel and Hunter’s wedding had died down, and they had released a statement and some photos to the press. It completely stopped the frenzy of when would it be, what would it look like, and who would be invited. Corey had been thinking a lot this week about what Taran said. She might be right that releasing small bits of information could keep the press off his back. But if he was interested in that, he’d have to hire a publicist. And an agent. It was ridiculous that he still hadn’t done it.
Next week, he had the all-star break, but he was playing this year, so he wouldn’t get time off. There was a two-week home stretch in August, though. Taran would be back from her trip to Guatemala by that point, and maybe if he asked, she’d help him find the right agent.
The large metalwork arch announced his arrival at her parents’ ranch, and he drove under the burnt red and black sign with the Texas star. Taran had sent him pictures of the land, the cows, and her nephew’s rodeo all week, but the view still had him whistling. The flat land made the green pastures seem endless. What a place to grow up. He shook his head as he parked in front of the sprawling one-story home. The front porch stretched the length of the house. It was peppered with white rocking chairs and ceiling fans. Large unpolished stone overlapped to make a path from the gravel driveway to the front steps.
He pushed open his door and was hit with the familiar blast of Texas summer inferno. A quick internal debate had him pulling out his phone to call her while he leaned against his car to wait.
“Aren’t you supposed to be at the game?”
“I’m pitching tomorrow, so I took a mental health day,” Corey answered.
“Are you okay?” Her genuine concern had him almost backing out of his plan.
“I’m not sure I’m in a good spot.” Corey bit his cheek.
“Give me a second to go out on the porch where we can talk. I’ve got too many eyes on me at the moment.”
The front door opened, and Taran’s small frame moved outside. She was in his favorite cutoffs with a black tank top that probably said something ridiculous, but he couldn’t see it. He ended the call.
She glanced down at her phone. “Did he just hang up on me?” Taran said the words aloud, but Corey had no idea who she thought she was talking to.
“I figured it would be easier without the phones,” Corey called out, and Taran jerked, bobbling her phone as she spun toward him.
“Corey?” Her smile made the short trip worth it.
She hop-skipped down the large, flat rocks and straight into his arms. He lifted her right off her feet, pressing her tight into him. The floral scent that was all Taran hit his nose at the same time the satiny strands of her hair danced around his jaw.
“How are you here?” Her lips brushed his ear, and he had to swallow a groan.
“Got a few hours off, and I missed you, chipmunk.”
As it always did, the mention of the tiny rat-like creature got Taran heated up.
She pulled away, and he set her down.
“You know”—her eyebrow shot up—“I’ve heard chipmunks bite.”
The grin split his lips so fast he couldn’t stop it. “I like it. Sounds kinky.” He waggled his eyebrows, and she whacked him in the stomach.
“You’re impossible.” Taran spun back toward the house. As always, she stretched the beat of playing mad for about five counts before she glanced back over her shoulder. “Brace yourself. You have no idea what you’re walking into.”
“What?” he trotted up the steps to catch her. “What do you mean?”
He’d never heard her say anything bad about her parents.
She paused with her hand resting on the wrought-iron handle of the enormous wooden door. “In this house, we live and breathe the Astros. It’s like: God, family, the Astros—in that order—and you left daddy’s team to play for the biggest rival we have.”
Corey froze. “Wait. Taran.”
She didn’t stop, and he trailed behind as she headed into the big open foyer.
