Out of Bounds (11 page)

“She’s eight years old.”

“So, yes?” Wes raised an eyebrow.

“God, Wes,” Posy said. “Why does it matter?”

“It doesn’t matter to me,” he answered. “But you stepped in as if it mattered to you.”

After checking on the basketball games, they stopped by the prize table where kids who’d completed their cards were picking up their equipment bags. Lined up about seven deep, they were getting antsy, so Wes and Posy went around to help check some of them out. The holdup was getting their feet sized for shoes, so they grabbed a folding chair and one of the templates to measure the kids’ feet and settled in.

The first few went pretty quickly. One boy was bothered that they only had blue or red stripes on the sneakers because his favorite color was green, but he cheered up when Posy swapped the soccer ball in his bag for one with green markings.

The next kid who sat in her chair looked a little like what Wes might have looked like when he was a kid. He wore a Yankees cap with a frayed brim turned backward on his head and thick black hair stuck out over his ears and at the back of his neck.

“This sucks,” he muttered. He swung his foot and it might have been just an innocent fidget or it might have been a half-serious attempt to kick her. She was about to tell him to cool down when she realized he was doing his best not to cry, but it wasn’t working very well. A tear dropped and he used the back of his hand to smear it quickly away. “I hate this place.”

He toed his sneaker off and stood to put his foot in the template to be measured. “Stupid people with stupid rules.”

Wes knelt next to the boy’s leg and fiddled with the template. “Size five.”

“We have red or blue stripes. Which one do you want?” Posy said.

“Blue.” He crossed his arms and sat back in the chair. “This sucks,” he repeated.

Posy looked for the right size in the stacks of boxes while Wes said, “Okay, buddy, what’s bothering you?”

She handed the box to Wes and then crouched next to him.

“That lady over there is stupid,” he said. “All I wanted was an extra bag for my brother because he couldn’t come today because he has detention at school. And even though he was
supposed
to come and even though he was
planning
to be here and even though the detention was not his fault because he only hit Josh
after
Josh hit him, they said I can’t have a bag for him because you have to be here in person to get one.” He swiped at another tear angrily. “I am not crying.” He glared at them as if daring them to challenge that statement. “I’m mad because I promised my brother and this place sucks.”

The last word came with a sound that might have been a sob and he turned his hat around and pulled the brim over his face. His shoulders shook but he didn’t make a sound.

“Sit tight for a second,” Wes said and then he mouthed to Posy, “Watch him.”

He walked over to the woman with the clipboard who was overseeing the bag giveaway. The kid’s face was still covered, but Posy whispered to him, “He’s going to take care of this. Don’t worry.” Being the rich guy in charge of the foundation came in handy when it was time to break the rules. She looked back again, but the woman and Wes were still talking, so she touched the kid’s knee and added, “Want me to help you put your new shoes on? You can wear them home.”

He didn’t seem to have heard her, but then he toed off his other sneaker and stuck his foot out toward her. She barely heard him say, “Yes, please.”

The soft “please” was the part that made her cry, but luckily the kid kept his hat pulled down. She slid the new sneakers on over his dirty socks and was tying the second knot when Wes dropped a bag on the ground next to the chair. At the sound, the boy’s head came up so fast it was almost comical.

Wes crouched again and said, “Here’s a bag for your brother.” He kept his hand on the bag while he continued. “I give you credit for keeping your promise to him and looking out for him, but next time, try to keep your temper, all right? No kicking and don’t call people stupid. Everybody here is doing their best, so we all have to stay calm.”

The boy nodded.

“Have fun, then.”

“Thanks!”

Posy smiled at the transformation in the boy’s expression. Every bit of the sullen temper was gone, replaced by a sparkling grin.

After he was gone, she said to Wes, “You made his day.”

“We have extra bags.”

She nodded toward the lady with the clipboard. “What did she say to you?”

“Just that we made the rule so the kids wouldn’t take extras to sell. I guess they did a giveaway like this one time and then the equipment ended up on Craigslist. She questioned if he even had a brother.”

“What did you tell her?”

“What if he does?”

She realized then that what she’d seen as a generically kind gesture, the kind of thing anyone would have done for the boy who’d been so obviously heartsick over his brother, hadn’t been random for Wes. He hadn’t given the kid a bag because it was easy or because they had extras or because he’d felt sorry for him. He’d seen himself and his brother in the situation. His connection to Deacon was always on his mind.

Motivating his every action.

* * *

W
ES
WAS
HAVING
a great time. He wouldn’t admit it to Deacon, but he’d been a little bored the past few days. Not that he didn’t think the work the center was doing was amazing and not that he didn’t want to be involved. He did.

It was just... He’d spent most of the past ten years playing competitive sports. Switching to this suburban, nine-to-five lifestyle was a shock to his system. He loved helping Mrs. M. with her weeding. And Posy was keeping him on his toes. But he missed the hard bite of competition. He missed being able to throw everything he had into a game and know the guys he was playing with were giving everything they had right back.

He hadn’t felt that energy since he left Madrid. Except for that one basketball game with Posy.

He glanced around, but didn’t see her. She’d told him she was going for a bottle of water, so he assumed she’d be back soon. In the meantime, he had to do something with the bigger boys. With less than an hour left, most of the kids had tried the events they were interested in. Some of the older boys had started milling around, chasing each other, and generally drifting toward mayhem.

Wes could relate. He was wound up and ready to kick the games up a notch.

A teenager dodged past him, holding a baseball cap that must have belonged to one of the other three boys racing behind him. Wes snagged the kid in the lead and held him by the arm.

“That your hat?”

The kid stuck it on his head. “Yes, sir.”

Wes straightened up and gave the kid a look that made him take the hat off and toss it sullenly to one of the other boys.

“Okay, all you guys come with me.”

He kept his hold on the kid’s arm, so it wasn’t much of a choice. Trey and Shawn were bagging recyclables at the refreshment tent and he hollered for them when he went past.

The Wiffle ball station was at the far end of the soccer field and it hadn’t seen as much traffic during the day as the other ones. Wes had collected a group of about ten of the bigger kids plus Trey and Shawn by the time he reached the piece of carpet that was serving as a batter’s box. Posy arrived just as he was explaining the rules to the kids.

“Three of you get in the outfield. The rest of you line up here to hit. You get three pitches and have to hit one or you’re out. You get out, you cycle out and field for the other guys. Once we’re down to three people, we’re going for distance. I’ll pitch.”

Wes picked up a bucket full of Wiffle balls. The guys were lining up, shoving each other to determine who had to field first. Shawn snatched a bat and called dibs on first bats.

He jogged out to the sweatshirt they’d been using to mark the pitcher’s mound. With two balls in his hands, he straightened to face Shawn only to find that Posy had somehow gotten first at bat.

CHAPTER TEN

T
HE
OLD
COMPETITIVE
ENERGY
had started flowing the second he’d caught that hat thief, but now, facing Posy again, he was surprised by a surge of excitement. Now things were getting interesting.

“They used to call me Smoke back at my old elementary school,” he said.

She pressed her lips closed to hold back her smile, but he saw the dimple flash in her cheek that gave her away.

“I had a kitten named Smoke one time. Cute little thing. I used to tickle its stomach and it would just roll right over.”

“Here, kitty,” Shawn called. Wes glared at him, but Shawn only laughed. “Pitch the ball, old man.”

He got set to throw, staring down Posy who was in a textbook-perfect crouch at the plate. Holding the bat angled behind her head. Knees bent. Butt out. He released the ball late and it wafted toward the plate with about eighty percent less speed than he’d planned. She crushed it, of course.

As she handed the bat to the hat thief, he thought he heard her snicker, “Smoke.”

He struck out a couple and two of them hung on by the skin of their teeth, snicking a piece of the ball, just enough to pop it up back to him. Two girls had jumped in line after they saw Posy batting and they both got a piece of the ball.

At the end of the first round eight batters were left in the game.

“I’m through going easy on you,” Wes yelled as he loaded his pockets with spare balls. “This was fun while it lasted, but I’ve got other places to be.”

More people had drifted over to watch, including some of the adults who’d been running the ticket stand and the refreshment table. He saw Chloe Chastain and a woman who looked enough like her that she had to be her sister. Chloe waved to him and he waved back.

Posy was up first again. “Less talk and more throwing, Smoke.”

He held the ball, staring her down, partly to entertain the kids who were watching and partly because it was a great excuse to stare at Posy. She was clearly enjoying herself, but he could see just as clearly that she was poised and ready to swing. In the moment before he threw, the joking fell away and the competition held her focus, the same way it held his.

He stretched through the end of the throw, putting his muscles into it, and sending it straight and hard right down the middle.

Posy didn’t flinch. Her bat came through and launched the ball into the outfield. She watched it go with a satisfied smile.

Wes put his hands on his hips. “Next one’s not going to be a cantaloupe right down the middle like that one.”

Shawn took her place. “You keep throwing her those easy ones and she’s going to win the whole thing.”

Posy jabbed him with her bat and he danced out of her way.

He got four of the kids out, including one of the girls. Then Trey was at the plate.

He went through an elaborate routine, kicking the grass, tapping his bat, pulling on the brim of his cap. Then he got in the batter’s box in his crouch, but looked over his shoulder back toward Posy. “You want me to hit it to right field or left?”

Wes beaned him.

Hey, it was only a Wiffle ball and a guy couldn’t be expected to take insults all day. Trey pretended to charge the mound and Shawn pretended to have to subdue him. The kid who’d stolen the hat fell over he was laughing so hard.

Wes looked for Posy and she brushed her index fingers together, tsking him.

Trey went back to the plate, but he whiffed all three pitches.

“Can’t expect a man to bat when he’s got a concussion,” he complained as he flung the bat down in disgust. “I’m sending a protest to the commissioner.”

That left them with three batters in the game, Posy, Shawn and the other girl.

“All right,” he said. “Whoever hits it the farthest in this round is the winner. You can take all three of your pitches and we’ll count the farthest shot.” He turned to wave the kids in from the outfield. “Don’t pick these up until they’re all finished.”

Shawn went up to the plate first.

Wes called time-out and pointed to a couple of little girls sitting on the ground on the sidelines halfway between the plate and his pitcher’s mound. “Be careful there, kids. You’re sitting right where his ball is going to come down.”

Shawn hit the first ball right back at him and he had to jump to avoid getting hit in the leg.

Wes shook his head. “It’s not a good idea to antagonize Smoke.”

Shawn missed the next pitch and then hit the third one straight out, over Wes’s head into the outfield.

He was pretty sure he’d just seen the game winner, but he put three nice ones over the plate for the other girl. She got a piece of all of them, but really ripped the last one. It was a nice hit, but fell short of Shawn’s ball.

He watched it land and then spun back, ready to pitch to Posy. She’d taken off her track pants and was at the plate in a pair of short knit shorts. He dropped the ball he was holding. Her legs were amazing. Toned, tanned and miles long. He glanced around. Almost everyone who’d been at the event was gathered around watching. He saw Deacon standing behind Julia with his arms folded around her. Wes had been there, coaching with them, during the season when they fell in love. Was this what it felt like when you found your life constantly turned upside down?

He faced the plate again. Posy settled into her stance, which meant she wiggled her butt and dug one sneaker into the dirt, lengthening the muscle in her calf and totally destroying his focus on the ball.

His first pitch bounced in the dirt three feet in front of the plate.

“Tired?” she asked.

“You want a younger arm in there, Wes?” Trey added.

For his second throw, he looked her right in the eye. He wound up and threw, not sure where the ball would go, but never once breaking eye contact with her. She took a cut at it, but it was inside and popped up right back to him.

Okay. Now he knew he wasn’t the only one feeling whatever this thing was between them.

This time he gave her a real pitch. He focused, bore down and sent it blazing toward the plate. She caught it cleanly and it rocketed past him into the outfield, dropping down a few feet past Shawn’s ball.

She lifted the bat in triumph while Shawn and Trey and the other kids swarmed her.

He was going to congratulate her and offer her a special prize, but she was in a crowd, so he detoured to the sidelines to pick up a few stray balls.

Chloe and her friend were talking to Jay. He came up on them in time to hear her say, “That’s exactly why no one ever liked her.”

“Come on, it was just a game,” Jay protested.

“It wasn’t a game to her, though. You saw how she gets. All those kids out there and she had to be the winner.”

Wes glanced back toward Posy, but she was much too far away to hear. The players were still gathered around her and Trey and Shawn were obviously replaying the best moments from the game. None of them looked particularly injured that Posy had beaten them. It wasn’t as if any of them were little kids—he thought they’d all been high schoolers. It certainly hadn’t occurred to him or Trey or Shawn to let one of the kids win.

“She’s just so intense,” Chloe said. “When we were young, her mom always told my mom she’s too much. You’ve been spending a lot of time with her, Wes. What do you think?”

“I think Julia’s going to be mad if I don’t get up there and help them get this thank-you ceremony started. You’re our guest of honor, Chloe. You don’t want to be late.”

Wes grabbed the last ball and turned his back on them, but he could feel her eyes on him. He wasn’t sure why she hated Posy so much, but it made him nervous.

He didn’t think there was a single person involved with the fundraiser who didn’t know that the majority of the money the two bloggers raised had come from Chloe’s network of readers and contacts. She had a lot of power and a long reach. If she decided to start trouble for the foundation, it could be a big problem.

Was her bad relationship with Posy enough to cause her to turn on them?

He hoped not.

He wasn’t going to be intimidated into gossiping about Posy and he wasn’t going to stop spending time with her. But it made him antsy to have Chloe watching from the wings.

* * *

A
LMOST
IMMEDIATELY
after hitting the last ball, Posy realized she’d let her competitive spirit take over. She wished she could do it over again. She didn’t need to get out there and make a spectacle of herself, not in Kirkland, anyway. She could have watched Trey and Shawn and whoever that teenage girl was battle it out.

She saw Chloe and Felicity talking to Wes and she could guess what they were saying.

The kids swarmed her, shouting about their favorite hits and asking her if she wanted to go again. Shawn gave her a high five and Trey handed her a Wiffle ball.

“Game ball,” he said with a grin. “You should make Wes sign it for you.”

“I’ll put it in my trophy case as soon as I get home,” she said.

Eventually the group started back toward the basketball court. Deacon was going to make a short speech and there was some kind of cheer they wanted to do before the day ended. She turned the ball over in her hand, thinking about Wes and the look he’d given her right before he threw the last pitch.

The crowd lined up around the basketball courts. Deacon gave a speech about his hopes for the Hand-to-Hand partnerships and his belief that everyone has something to offer. He thanked Wes for all his efforts putting Equipment Day together and Wes waved. Then Trey and Shawn brought up four mesh bags full of pink basketballs and the kids from the Milton center lined up.

“Ten years ago,” Deacon said, “Julia, Wes and I were coaching a basketball team. The girls were having trouble coming together and our record wasn’t that great. I take my basketball seriously and I thought if the kids worked harder and with more purpose, we’d start to win. My brother thought we needed a dance.”

“All the movie teams have dances,” Wes added.

“I set a goal for the girls and told them if they met it, they could have their dance. We’ll never know if it was the goal or the dance that made the difference—”

“It was the dance,” Wes called.

“But the team got together and ever since then we’ve taught the dance to kids who come to the Fallon centers. Right now, we want to invite our friends from Kirkland to join us.”

They passed out the balls and then the music came on. The dance was more like a basketball-handling display, like something the Harlem Globetrotters would do. Watching the Fallons, Trey and Shawn, and all the kids out there moving to the music, she knew it didn’t matter what she called it. What mattered was coming together as a community. All day she’d watched Wes listen to people and see what they needed and then try to make it happen for them. He might be new at his job, but he was a natural. It was clear to her that Kirkland was going to get its Hand-to-Hand center and Wes would be right there to run it.

She wondered what it would feel like to get on the court with them, with a ball of her own, moving in unison with the rest of their team.

When the song ended, Deacon, Julia and Wes went back to the microphones. “We wanted to take this opportunity,” Deacon said, “on a day when the Fallon Foundation came together with Kirkland, to announce an incredibly generous donation.”

Wes gestured toward her. “Posy Jones, representing her mother, Trish.” Then he found Chloe in the yard and called her name.

She stood next to Chloe and listened to the speech Deacon gave about the small donors and the network of blog readers coming together that was such a great metaphor for the idea behind the Hand-to-Hand centers.

“Thanks to Trish Jones and Chloe Chastain and the community they brought together to raise more than sixty-eight thousand dollars.”

She stayed until the clapping ended and then she excused herself while Chloe was talking to Wes and Deacon.

Not many people were leaving, so she had trouble finding her way through the crowd around the courts. Wes came up next to her and before she realized what he was doing, he’d angled her off to one side.

“You’re leaving?”

“I have to get home,” she said.

“You didn’t tell me you’re a professional Wiffle ball player. If I knew, I would have given you my really fast stuff instead of those easy ones.”

“Smoke, huh?”

“It’s a name that strikes fear in my opponents.”

“I was terrified. Shawn was shaking. Seriously.”

“Hey, at least it was entertaining.”

“You know what, Wes? It was,” she said. “I had low expectations for this day. I spent my life with a professional do-gooder, so I’ve been to a lot of events like this, but I’ve never had such a good time.”

“Thanks,” he said. “I really wanted it to work out. This was important to my brother.”

“What about to you?” she asked.

“Me?” He looked surprised. “I’m happy if he’s happy, I guess.”

“That’s a little lame,” she said. Then she added, “Sorry. I didn’t mean that. I just— I guess I just wonder what makes Wes Fallon happy besides making sure his brother is happy.”

“Go out with me tonight,” he said. He looked as if he’d even surprised himself.

“Out?”

“Dinner. Tonight. Are you busy?”

There’d been that one pitch he threw. He stared at her and she stared at him and she hadn’t been able to breathe.
Dinner...
He was asking her on a date. She wanted to go. Wanted to kiss him again....

“Dinner? Tonight?”

“Deacon and Julia aren’t going back until tomorrow, so we’re all going out.”

Oh.

Right.

Dinner with his brother. Of course.

“I don’t know, Wes. I have a lot to straighten out at my mom’s house. You probably want to catch up with Deacon. If I come you’ll feel like you have to entertain me.”

“I’ll tell Deacon no shoptalk. This is just for fun. Come on, Posy.” Wes tilted his head and leaned toward her. “I want you to come.”

She knew that head-tilting thing was a habit he’d developed because he spent his life talking to people who were shorter than him. But it got to her every time. She couldn’t help it. It was just so inviting.