Fielder's Choice (19 page)

“I made two new friends, Brandon and Liesha. They were on your team. Brandon helped capture the flag, remember?”

He didn’t. All he remembered from that day—was it only two weeks ago?— was the blaze of heat and lust that had shot through him when he’d first kissed Alana. That and the stripped-raw feeling he’d had as he’d driven away from the ranch that evening. She’d cracked him open, and he hadn’t yet seamed himself back up.

He put Sophie’s things in the trunk and belted her into the back seat. He glanced around the parking lot, looked up toward the house, and then back at the frantoio and the building housing the ranch offices.

No Alana.

He’d imagined giving her a piece of his mind for disappointing Sophie. For being flighty and irresponsible. But that wasn’t all he’d imagined. The woman had slipped into his head. No matter how he tried to control his thoughts, images of her popped up at the most inconvenient times. He’d even found himself in front of his computer studying up on windmills and county regulations. Ridiculous.

He pulled out of the drive still looking in his rearview mirror, still not sure what he wanted to see.

“Guess what?” Sophie searched in her backpack and pulled out a crumpled envelope. “Alana showed up and she had a special drawing that she made of a fairy. Dad, it looked like a
real
fairy. She’s really good. It had sparkles and everything. And she took me down to the pond, and Peg and Gustavo and me, we all worked on getting the plants in. And Alana put the stone I gave her in the
middle
of the fairy village. Right in the very middle. It was perfect and—Dad, are you listening?”

“Yeah, honey. I’m listening.”

“And then she gave me the little drawing. It’s in my tent. And she gave me this to give to you. She said you’d really like what’s in it, that she had you in mind.”

Sophie handed him the crumpled envelope. He put it in his pocket.

“Aren’t you going to read it?”

“Honey, I’m driving,” Matt said. The enthusiasm in Sophie’s voice was a good thing. But the warning he felt in his gut about the envelope he’d just pocketed was not a good thing. He’d read it in private.

“No Mrs. Wallenberg tonight, Punkin,” he said as they walked into their townhouse.

Sophie let out a whoop of delight.

“No Mrs. Wallenberg means pasta and canned tomato sauce,” he warned.

“And popcorn and a movie. Can I pick the movie?”

“Anything but
The Princess Bride
.” He wasn’t sure he could take a twentieth viewing. “But she’ll be back for the weekend. I have a doubleheader tomorrow and a day game on Sunday.”

Later that night, after he’d tucked Sophie into bed, he walked to his study and pulled the crumpled enveloped from his pocket.

A Special Event at the Tavonesi Olive Ranch to benefit the Summer Camp Scholarship Fund of the Boys and Girls Club
. The words were blazoned across the cream card stock in big, bold letters.

Perhaps Alana was trying to make amends. Her efforts on the butterfly garden with Sophie sent a clear message, but this stunt was over the top. And using Sophie to send the message was out of bounds. Still, the woman knew how to turn a play, even if it didn’t change anything. She was still the same person she’d been the day she’d driven off and left Sophie disappointed. A disappointment was something a kid could handle. But someday, if things went on like they were, Alana would break her heart.

Or was it his heart he was worried about?

He connected to the website reply form listed on the invitation and was relieved when all he had to do was check off the box that said
No
. He left the comment section blank. What he had to say wouldn’t have fit into such a small space.

He clicked off his computer and picked up his guitar. He strummed for a few minutes, but the familiar melody and the playing brought him no comfort. Another strike against Alana Tavonesi. Since meeting her, he couldn’t even enjoy the activities that used to ease the ache of his loneliness.

Chapter 15

Steeee-rike
!”

The umpire’s call surprised Matt. The pitch had been low and, to his eye, well out of the strike zone. Maybe the ump favored the pitcher because the bases were loaded and the game was tied in the bottom of the ninth. Maybe it was because this was the second grueling game of the doubleheader with the Phillies and the ump’s eyes were failing him. Whatever had the ump making such calls, Matt had to deal with it. He stepped out of the batter’s box and focused. At times like these, times when he needed strength and energy he didn’t have, he imagined tapping into the power source of the universe, whatever the heck it was. Scotty had all sorts of theories, most of them involving equations and astrophysics, but this was no time for theory. He needed power in action, in the physical realm, not some abstract idea.

Matt shut his eyes. Saw his bat connect to the ball. Felt it. Heard it.

He knocked the dirt off his cleats with the bat head and stepped back in.

The Phillies’ pitcher shook off three signals from the catcher. That was a good sign. The count was two and one. Normally with the bases loaded he'd look for something off-speed. But he had a hunch and he wasn’t going to ignore it.

The pitcher nodded and hauled in his breath. Sometimes Matt swore he could hear the pitcher’s breaths over the sound of the crowd. Today he not only heard it, he felt it.

He connected to the guy’s four-seamer with a crack that made Alex smile as he dashed around the bases in front of Matt. Campion crossed the plate from third as the ball sailed out of the stands and dropped toward the water in McCovey Cove.

Some days the game was bliss.

After the game, Matt stood under the shower for longer than usual, letting the heated water pelt him. Mrs. Wallenberg would already have Sophie in bed. She’d be mending the rips in his T-shirts if he let her, but he’d put the kibosh on domestic duties. Take care of Sophie, cook meals and keep her company—that was enough. Enough that he could soothe his aching muscles for just a few more minutes.

“Nice moon shot,” Alex said as he ducked under a shower head a few feet from Matt’s. “Good thing I’m retiring at the end of the year; you’re showing me up.”

It was Alex’s highest compliment, and Matt knew it. Alex had earned the Triple Crown, one of baseball’s greatest achievements, two years earlier and was on track this year to do it again—a near impossibility. He’d attributed his recent success to marrying the right woman. Matt didn’t believe in such things but after observing Alex’s stat-busting performance, he was beginning to rethink his skepticism.

“Just glad to be part of the team,” Matt said with a grin. It might be an overused phrase, but it worked because it was true.

“You won’t get off so easy.”

Alex turned and let the water run over his lower back. He put his palms to his hips and bent forward, pushing his back into the flow. Matt saw the twitch in his eyes.

“You stiff?” He didn’t expect Alex to answer. A player admitted to nothing less drastic than dying or bleeding to death.

“Knifed,” Alex replied. “Tweaked something on that last hit.” He twisted so his left hip was directly under the stream of pounding heat.

They stood unmoving, letting the pressure and heat ease muscles that often complained this late in the season. A brotherhood of spasms, one of his teammates had called the months after the All-Star break. It wasn’t far from the truth.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into Alana,” Alex said. He turned off the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist; there were women sportscasters in the clubhouse, so no one wanted to be caught buck-naked. “She’s hosting an event at the ranch to benefit needy kids. Called me out of the blue.” He grabbed a second towel from the stack by the entrance to the showers. “She’s got my whole family coming. Played the camp-scholarships-for-underprivileged-kids angle hard.” He bent at the waist and shook the water from his hair, then used the towel to dry it. “Scotty and Chloe are coming.” He paused. “I think she really wants you to come.”

“I’m too busy.”

“You forget I know your schedule—it’s a night off.”

“I thought you said she was trouble? I found your report to be exceedingly accurate.”

“Affirmative.” Alex laughed. “Still true. All of us Tavonesis are trouble. But I’ll watch your back.”

It wasn’t his back that worried Matt. It was parts lower and way more influential. “I’m trying for some distance, Alex.”

“Something you’re rather good at.”

Matt turned off the shower. Alex’s tone was friendly but it didn’t hide the truth. He grabbed a towel, ran it through his hair and then tossed it in the bin. “I’ve thought about it.” He grabbed another towel and snapped it around his waist. “Alana could break Sophie’s heart without even knowing it. Sophie’s already too hooked into her, but that’s my fault. I should’ve seen it coming.”

They crossed to their lockers. Most of the other guys had already showered and left the clubhouse.

“Alana’s not even close to dealing with what it takes to be in a kid’s life,” Matt said. “And likely isn’t interested. It’s a lot to sign up for.” He hauled on a polo shirt and his jeans. “Besides, your cousin likes playing the field. Or maybe you haven’t noticed.”

“What makes you so sure?” Alex protested. “Just because you can read a pitcher doesn’t mean you can read a woman’s mind. Trust me on that one.”

Matt heard the affable rebuke in Alex’s tone. The recent camaraderie he’d developed with Scotty and Alex was the best he’d had in his life. For the first time in longer than he could remember, he didn’t feel adrift. He didn’t want to mess that up. Not over a woman.

What harm could come from joining his friends for a cause they all believed in?

He choked on a half laugh. Right. What harm could come from lying to himself?

Alana adjusted the bodice of her evening gown. The woman co-chairing the Boys and Girls Club fundraiser didn’t get that a party in the country was much better suited to less formal attire. It was
the country
, Alana had pointed out. But the chairwoman had insisted on black tie. Probably because she’d had a dress made especially for the occasion and was determined to debut it at the party. That was an excuse Alana could relate to.

Still, she was about to welcome a couple hundred stiletto-heeled women in ball gowns and men in tuxes, and the workers laying the temporary flooring between the ranch buildings and the ballroom weren’t finished yet. It wasn’t their fault; until she’d walked through the venue with Parker and the party planner the day before, she hadn’t realized that they’d have to create safe, raised and carpeted paths. At least the patios between the lizard-topped pavilion, the ballroom and the dining tent were already suitable, even for the highest of heels.

At the last minute she’d offered to greet guests in her foyer and give the crews a bit more time to finish up the pathways. People always wanted to access private spaces; perhaps it’d give the party that much more cachet. Staffers could then lead the guests along the finished path to the frantoio and ballroom and afterwards settle them into the lavishly decorated dining tent.

Suddenly, Capture the Flag and campfire nights seemed heavenly and way too far in the past. The next time Alana agreed to host a party of this magnitude,
if
there ever was a next time, it was going to be hay bales and carriage rides.

Her phone vibrated. She tugged at her bodice again before she picked the phone up from the side table in the foyer.

She had to read Parker’s text twice before the meaning sank in. He was stuck in traffic on the Golden Gate Bridge. Her cohost wouldn’t arrive for another hour.

An hour! Guests would be arriving any minute.
Merde
! She kicked at the bough of flowers trailing down from the stairway banister. Her heel caught in the wooden rung of the stair and snapped off.

Double merde!

She leaned down and unstrapped her shoes and looked up to see Matt walking toward her, brows raised.

“Trouble in paradise?” He offered her a hand up.

She hadn’t expected him to be among the first arrivals. In fact, in spite of his email the day before, she hadn’t been sure he’d come at all. She’d nearly convinced herself she didn’t care.

She plastered on her best public smile and took his offered hand.

As soon as his fingers tightened around hers, the familiar charge zipped through her and she wanted to melt into the warmth pulsing between their hands. “It’s fine.” It was all she could do to swallow down the lump of emotion rising in her throat and stand. “I’m fine.”

“I know what fine looks like.”

Perceptive man.

“Okay, so
not
fine means hundreds of guests will be arriving any minute. My cousin Parker, who was going to help me greet those guests, he’s stuck in traffic on the bridge.” She held up her Louboutin sandal, the heel dangling off to the side like a severed body part. “I’ve agreed to greet them here in my foyer, I’ve broken my shoe and—”

“I’ll greet them,” he said. “You run upstairs and change shoes.”