The Lucky Charm (The Portland Pioneers) (6 page)

“That doesn’t bother you?” Noah asked.

Jack shrugged and pulled a T-shirt over his head, his biceps yelping in protest. The first week of spring training always sucked, no matter how many reps he pulled in Arizona. He’d come to acknowledge it as a fact of life. Of his life, anyway.

“Even though I’m pretty used to your insanity, sometimes, I still don’t get it,” Foxy sighed.

“We leave each other alone. It’s a situation that works well enough.” Jack slung his bag over his shoulder and tried not to grimace at the ache in his back. He needed a good hour in the whirlpool if he was going to have a dream of taking a ground ball tomorrow.

He might not be the most talented second baseman in the game, but damn it, he was going to be the most well-prepared, and part of that preparation was in how careful he was with the raw material he had to work with.

“You should come to the interview with me,” Noah said, as he, too, pulled his bag over his shoulder. Tall, broad shouldered and well muscled despite drinking and partying and the shenanigans that Jack couldn’t get away with, Noah was the natural baseball player that Jack wasn’t ever going to be.

“No thanks, man. I like my distance.” That much was true, which didn’t explain
at all
his bizarre attraction to the prickly Ms. Dalton.

They stepped together into the sluggish Florida heat. Jack turned toward the parking lot but before he could move in that direction, Noah’s voice made him look back.

“I know you think I was an idiot. God knows, it was fucking stupid to do what I did with Tabitha. But I was happy, too, happy in a way you can’t be if you keep your distance.”

Jack froze, absorbing Foxy’s words. He forced himself to go through the mechanics of shrugging nonchalantly, as if what he’d said was like anything else that passed between them. They had a good friendship—sometimes it was even great. He enjoyed bullshitting and talking game with Foxy. Their repartee was solid. If one of them was ever traded away from the Pioneers, he’d miss him. But despite all of Noah’s lighthearted attempts to push girls toward him, this was the first time Jack had felt something. If he was being honest with himself, he’d started feeling it the moment he’d opened the door to the media trailer and she’d practically fallen into his lap, a sweaty, ungainly heap that completely belied her grace when upright.

He’d thought her eyes were going to be dark—maybe dark brown like the cool hair that had spilled over his arm—but instead they were a grayish-green. Stormy, almost. He hadn’t liked the electrical shock those eyes had given them when they’d met his.

And if she thought he’d missed the way her skirt rode up on her slim legs or the way she’d flushed in embarrassment, and then heat, the creamy tone of her skin going pink, she was insane. He couldn’t help but notice.

Maybe that was why he couldn’t tell Foxy about what had happened between them. Because if he told, Jack wasn’t entirely certain he was going to be able to make light of it enough to get Noah off his back.

“Think about it,” Noah said, his voice lightening up considerably, as if he was asking where they were going to grab a beer.

Jack wanted to feel the lightness in Noah’s voice, but suddenly, all he could think about was Noah’s bruised heart over Tabby, and that frozen exterior of Izzy’s that begged to be melted.

Noah would definitely take her off-guard. He was all oozing charm and ingratiating favor. He’d have her eating out of his hand within minutes.

If he was sane, Jack thought, he wouldn’t even think about it. He would continue walking to his car and drive home to the house he was renting for spring training. He’d get in his big tub with the wondrous jets and put on a
Bones
marathon. But something was brewing that he couldn’t quite his put his finger on. If he was thinking at all, he’d say it was jealousy, but he tried to avoid thinking for precisely that reason.

“Just a sec,” he heard himself say. “How do you think they’d feel about a two-for-one special?”

As it turned out, Toby wasn’t all that thrilled with the idea. As he watched Noah try to placate Toby, on the edge of the rickety interview set they’d “built” next to the media trailer, Jack realized that for the first time since he’d become a professional baseball player, he
wanted
someone to pay attention to him that wasn’t a manager or a scout or an opposing pitcher. He could see Noah working overtime with Toby, pulling out all his charm, and finally throwing up his hands and gesturing in the direction of the parking lot.

Jack had known Foxy long enough to know what that meant, and for the second time in the three years they’d known each other—and for the second time today—he wondered if there wasn’t something to their friendship besides a bag of sunflower seeds and a bucket to spit them into.

Noah turned from Toby and walked toward Jack, shaking his head with a devious smirk on his face. “That was
not
easy, man,” Noah said with relish. “But at the same time, I think that’s the most fun I’ve had in months. Toby can be a real tool.”

“We can just forget it…” Jack stammered out, wondering if he’d worn his heart on his sleeve just a little too obviously.

“Oh, no,” Noah chortled good naturedly. “You could actually like this girl. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. You’re not going anywhere.”

Jack opened his mouth and snapped it closed before he could come up with even one smart-ass comment. Noah was right. He supposed being intrigued by the
one
girl he should probably stay away from was just the next chapter in the wild-and-crazy life of Jack Bennett. Not once had he ever done things the easy way.

“So, Toby made it pretty damn clear he doesn’t want you in this interview, but he’s willing to make an exception to make sure I get in front of her. No doubt he’s going to give her some last-minute instructions to pretty much ignore you altogether,” Noah added with a devious smirk.

“I’m not that easy to ignore,” Jack said with an equally devious smile of his own.

Noah slapped him on the shoulder. “Then, go get ‘em, tiger.”

Toby was pacing in the media trailer, causing the structure to sway back and forth. Izzy put a steadying hand on the mirror she’d propped up with her laptop screen, and applied another swipe of powder. Despite her efforts, beads of sweat popped up almost instantly all along her hairline. She wanted to believe it was only because of the stuffy trailer, but she knew better. She, who almost never got rattled, was hand-tremblingly, stomach-heavingly nervous. And that had been before Toby had announced she’d be interviewing Noah Fox
and
Jack Bennett.

“Damn this heat,” she sighed. “It’s unnatural for it to be this warm in the winter.”

Toby swung his head her direction. “You clearly don’t understand what’s about to happen. It’s like throwing you to a piranha and you’re like…Nemo. It’s not going to be pretty. It’s going to be a bloodbath.”

Izzy sighed. “You’ve got to give me a little more credit than that,” she argued. “I can handle this guy.” That was what she did after all. Of course, if history repeated itself, she’d only be able to get a few words out of her uncooperative throat.

“
Nobody
handles Jack Bennett.”

“I will.”

“If it was that easy, someone would have done it before.”

But she just ignored Toby’s dire warnings and let the door slam behind her, walking over to the set that Toby had hastily erected next to the trailer. It consisted of a rickety backdrop, printed with the Pioneers and network logos, and a few slightly sturdier folding chairs. She could see the imprint in the grass where the chairs had initially been placed, and how they’d been moved slightly to add in a third. Taking a deep breath, she raised her chin and tried to project a confidence she was nowhere near feeling.

Noah Fox approached first, with Jack Bennett trailing behind him. Izzy wondered if they always traveled like that—Noah breaking the ground and Jack cleaning up behind him—but then Noah smiled and the sheer dazzling whiteness of his teeth rocked her back a little.
He’s just handsome
, she reminded herself,
he’s like those beautiful flowers that mask something deeper, something darker. The trap just happens to be his innocuous-looking friend hiding behind him.

“I’m Noah Fox,” he said, stretching out a lean, well-muscled arm toward her. His skin was the exact shade of caramel that her mother had always drizzled on their vanilla ice cream in the summer. She wanted to lean down and take a bite to see if he tasted as good as he looked.

“Izzy Dalton. Thanks so much for agreeing to the interview.”

“I was honored to be selected,” he smiled down at her, his charm enclosing them until she knew she was supposed to feel like he was beside himself with the notion that she’d picked him. She barely had the time to think about just how good Noah Fox really was, before Jack sidled up next to his teammate.

“As was I,” Jack smiled, all innocence. “I knew you couldn’t stay away from me.”

There was no doubt about it. He cracked her composure without even trying. He wasn’t just a trap; he was going to be her kryptonite.

“Izzy Dalton reporting from Sarasota Florida, at the Portland Pioneers Spring Training facility. I’m here with Noah Fox, starting center fielder for the Pioneers, and Jack Bennett, starting second baseman. Thanks for joining me today.”

Jack had to give Izzy credit for how bravely she faced the camera, especially since he’d discovered she’d never done much on-camera work. The first hundred or so times that he’d come face-to-face with a camera, he’d froze, which pretty much explained all those inane interviews that he’d given. When you had no idea what to say, sometimes the worst possible bullshit came out of your mouth.

“Welcome to the Pioneers, Izzy.” Noah smiled, ladling the charm on thick, and Jack resisted the urge to elbow him hard in the ribs.

Her first few questions were all to Noah—about his College World Series title, how he felt about the upcoming season. Izzy was pretty stiff, but Foxy seemed to settle her down after a few minutes.

He’d expected her to take her time with Noah. After all, he was a great interview; he acted like he actually
wanted
to be here. It wasn’t any big surprise that Toby would pick Foxy for Izzy to break her teeth on. Instead, she switched her attention to him after only three questions, her focus narrowing in on him until he felt like the entire world was going to see him perspiring—every glorious bead of sweat in high definition. 

“Jack,” she said coolly, though by this point he’d figured the wintry act was all a big lie. She wasn’t cold; inside, she was a volcano, and because he was inevitably masochistic, he wanted all that icy self possession to melt away. “What’s your goal for this team?”

“Hell, we’d love to have made the playoffs last year, me more than anyone,” he admitted, and for the first time, he could think about the collapse last year without his vision going all red and blurry with rage, “but good things are worth the wait. This year, we’re not only going to make the playoffs, we’re going to the World Series.” He paused, and was so strangely, innately comfortable, he couldn’t help poking a bit of fun at her. It wasn’t mean, he told himself, just…
playful
. Never mind that he wanted to play with her. The intelligence and spirit in her eyes challenged and intrigued him so much that he couldn’t seem to help himself. “You know,” he said conspiratorially, “that’s the Super Bowl of baseball.”

She froze in place, her expression nearly panicked, and then he watched as she forced herself to relax, molecule by molecule. He wanted to make her melt, and unearth the woman beneath the stiff facade until he discovered her
real
smile. “And how important is making your World Series debut with the Pioneers? Wouldn’t it be easier, don’t you think, to play for a team that’s been there before?”

“The Pioneers were my first-choice team and it was a great day when they picked me in the draft. Going with
this
team to the World Series is the only thing I think about,” he said, as if he could feel any differently. “A World Series is a World Series, but the Pioneers are near and dear to my heart.”

Her expression was a mask. “Have you heard the rumors about Ismael Butler moving the team to Las Vegas?”

Jack could feel everything inside of him still and then speed up rapidly, his heart beating so fast he was sure she could see it through his thin T-shirt. This was why he hated interviews; there was always a question that managed to work him up. This time she’d unearthed the
one
question that not only made him see red, but freaked him the fuck out.