The Lucky Charm (The Portland Pioneers) (7 page)

“That’s crap,” he managed to croak out. “The team isn’t going anywhere.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” she said and he wanted to hate that she was the lightest, most relaxed at the moment she’d made him the most uncomfortable. “But Mr. Butler
was
in Vegas last week.”

But even though he’d just met her, hate wasn’t anywhere in the equation.

“Mr. Butler has a lot of business in Vegas,” Jack shot back.

“I’m sure that’s true,” Noah added with a hopeful voice and Jack wanted to smack him for not sounding more confident, but he supposed the damage was already done.

Deep down, Jack suspected that point of no return had already come and gone long ago, maybe even the moment he’d opened the door to the media trailer to find Toby, and had discovered Izzy instead.

CHAPTER FOUR

From: Isabel Dalton

To: Charlie Walker

Date: February 28, 2012 @ 7:31 PM

Subject: would you like some cheese with this wine?

Had my first interview today. Thanks for the tip, it really came in handy. Any more like that you can toss my way would be a huge help, because things couldn’t be going worse.

Izzy

I
zzy watched the interview with Toby when it viewed the next evening as part of a series celebrating the return of Pioneers baseball.

“Celebration, my ass,” Toby muttered, cracking his knuckles loudly as the opening segment flashed across the screen.

“Hard to get excited before spring training is even over,” Izzy tried to point out, even though she had no idea what she was talking about—an occurrence that was becoming depressingly more frequent these days.

“We’ll see,” Toby said cryptically. “That bone you threw Bennett yesterday wasn’t a lie. I’ll bet you a hundred bucks ol’ Ismael was sniffing around locations in Vegas. There’s no real money in Portland, not until the team catches on.”

“You don’t think they still can?” In the back of her mind, Izzy saw Jack’s dismayed expression when she’d brought up even the possibility of the Pioneers moving to Las Vegas, though why she should care, Izzy wasn’t sure. The Pioneers weren’t really
her
team—they were her job. She’d learned enough about reporting to know her sanity depended on her ability to separate the two.

Toby shrugged, and she could tell he didn’t care at all. She felt another ill-advised pang of
something
for a man she didn’t even know. Or maybe it was for the boy he’d been and the realization that so much of what you dreamed of as a kid never happened. Jack had a chance—a one-in-a-million chance—to make good on that.

Charlie had emailed her about the rumors he’d heard, his message dovetailing almost perfectly with the chatter that Toby had picked up about Ismael Butler, the Pioneers’ owner, flying to Las Vegas, and they’d decided to include it in the interview. Remembering Jack’s face had Izzy suddenly rethinking her policy of going straight for the jugular for the first time in her career.

Charlie had started to sound old, Izzy had realized as she’d read his email. He’d begun to second guess himself.
Maybe you shouldn’t be there
, he’d written, and as she’d read the words, she’d realized that it was time to remind
him
of all the things he’d taught her over the years.

Toby turned up the television to nearly an uncomfortable decibel and Izzy tensed as she came on screen. She’d never been comfortable watching herself and nothing had changed.

I look okay
, Izzy thought with relief. Of course, that didn’t mean Toby was going to say anything actually
nice
as he grimaced at her slightly awkward pauses between questions. Still, not bad for a first effort, she decided as she watched herself laugh with Noah Fox on-screen. Amazingly, she didn’t just look like she was pretending to have a good time—she actually
was
having a good time. She would give just about anything to be back there, instead of here, waiting for Toby to continue using her as a punching bag for his personal vendetta against the female sex.

“Hmmm,” Toby said, his attention completely glued to the television as she moved to Jack, asking him about his life before baseball, about his dreams for Portland and for the Pioneers. Right as she moved on to the question about Las Vegas, an electric spark shot up her back all the way to the top of her head, leaving every hair on her neck standing on end. There was something…
something
…in her eyes as she almost shyly offered him a sympathetic look.
Something
as he glanced back at her. Something she never would have even acknowledged existed if she hadn’t seen the evidence staring back at her.

She knew what Toby was going to say when he turned to her before he even said the words. She could see it herself, plain as day on the screen.

“You and Jack Bennett. I’d never thought I’d live to see the day where he’d show up, unannounced, to be interviewed. And
like
it.” Naturally, Toby said this as if it had nothing to do with her. Like maybe Jack Bennett hadn’t taken his medication that morning. Except she wasn’t stupid enough to actually believe it. Jack agreeing to the interview had
everything
to do with her.

“Is that unusual?” It was a stupid question; she knew better. But something seemed to have short circuited in her brain at the thought Jack Bennett had agreed to the interview just so he could talk to her again.

Toby just shot her a half-hearted glare.

“Does that mean I can interview him again?” The question came out without her even thinking about its implications.
Remember,
she reminded herself firmly,
he’s a distraction you can’t possibly afford.

“Hell no,” Toby snorted. “That was a one-time shot.”

Izzy tried not to be disappointed. “Alright.”

“Let’s buckle down and talk about what we’re doing going forward,” Toby said, and Izzy diligently pulled out her iPad and opened her notes. “We’ve got to get you some more intro material so you don’t look so damn lost every time we have a team meeting,” he grumbled, and she instantly felt guilty for not studying harder. For being better. It was tough to remember to cut Toby some slack when he got frustrated with her general lack of knowledge, because sometimes he was
so
tough on her. But, she kept telling herself, that was the nature of the business. Sink or swim. And sinking just wasn’t an option.

“I’m trying.”

“Well, try harder,” Toby shot back. “It’s embarrassing to have to cover for you whenever something vaguely relevant to your job comes up.”

A week later, Izzy thought she might have imagined it all. She and Jack hadn’t even spoken once since the interview, and she stupidly had to keep reminding herself that this was
good.

Spring training was in full swing and the Pioneers had started traveling to other stadiums up and down the Florida panhandle, playing games to hone their skills for the coming season. She’d traveled to some of them, but frustratingly, Toby had mostly kept her at the home stadium in Sarasota, studying incessant hours of game film so she’d be more familiar not only with the Pioneers, but with other teams.

Unfortunately, despite vaguely understanding the rules, there still seemed to be something fundamental about the game that she couldn’t seem to grasp, no matter how many epically boring tapes Toby made her sit through.

“Today I want you in the stands,” Toby barked at her, grasping a flimsy water bottle, the thin plastic crunching beneath his hands as he gulped down half its contents. “Get a feel for the fans, interview a few of them. Maybe we’ll do a feature opening day on the loyal fans that follow us to Florida.”

A week ago, she’d have jumped at the assignment. She would have believed it was an opportunity for her to establish her credentials at journalistic storytelling. But Toby was unflinchingly consistent. He was only trying to get her out of the way before she embarrassed him any more than she already had.

It took an enormous effort, but she gave him a sharp nod of agreement and watched him walk away. She hadn’t felt this way since she was eighteen years old and had very nearly flunked Freshman Bio.

An hour later, Izzy sat in the half-empty stands as the game began. Considering it was a Saturday, and it was the Pioneers’ home stadium in Florida, she was surprised to see how few people were there to cheer on the team.

Frustrated with her inability to match the terms on her note cards to the action happening on the field, Izzy decided to take a break midway through the third inning. Grabbing a soda from the one of the vendors, she returned to her seat with a renewed determination to comprehend the component she seemed to be missing.

Sipping on her Diet Coke, she turned to her right and nearly jumped out of her skin as a familiar pair of blue eyes stared back at her.

Jack Bennett wore an ancient-looking, sweat-stained Pioneers cap pulled low over his forehead and a devilish smirk.

Reeling from shock, Izzy’s fingers slipped on the condensation building on the cardboard cup and she tried grabbing it with her other hand, but it suffered the same fate. For a horrifying split second, she could see herself dumping a full cup of ice and soda all over Jack, but before the cup could fall completely from her grasp, he reached over and grasped it firmly in his hand.

“Saved, yet again. Thanks.” She couldn’t help the flush of embarrassment. Why did she have to be such a mess around him?

He offered the cup back to her, and this time, she was careful to wipe her sweaty palms on her jeans before taking it gingerly in her hand. “I won’t even mention that you’re clumsy this time,” he said, as he chuckled under his breath. “Swear to God.”

“I’d appreciate it. Apparently, you’re the only person who ever catches me in the act.” She shyly glanced over again at his T-shirt and jeans, almost embarrassed to be caught staring at him, but after days of not seeing him, she couldn’t seem to look away. “You’re not playing today?”

He shook his head reluctantly. “Deep bruise from a ball hitting me in the thigh yesterday. I wanted to, though.”

She understood. Uselessness wasn’t an emotion she liked much either.

“I heard that about you. Apparently, you’re insane. Determined to play despite any injury.”

“Not gonna lie. I hate not playing.” Izzy could hear the strain in his voice, in the longing as he looked out from the stands to the green grassy field below.

“So, why are you hiding up here?” she finally asked, before an uncomfortable silence fell between them. “Aren’t you supposed to stay on the bench?”

He threw his head back and laughed, and for the first time, she didn’t feel self conscious at his amusement. Unlike when she misspoke in front of Toby, Jack had never laughed
at
her.

“I know,” she said, with a rueful smile. “I said that wrong, didn’t I?”

“A little,” he admitted, and the shy smile he sent her from underneath the brim of his cap made her breath hitch a little in her throat.

“I’m beginning to think it’s hopeless.” She didn’t really mean to sound so dejected, but her frustration was getting tough to hide, and something about him made all her ugly truths rise right to the surface.

“Toby being tough on you?” he asked, his own tone carefully neutral.

“Uh…well…um…” she stammered, annoyed at her own indecision. Jack glanced up at her, and the empathy in his eyes undid every intention of suffering in silence.

Izzy took a deep, steadying breath, and looked out over the ballpark. “Yes,” she finally said.

“You’ll get it,” he said with a confidence she envied.

“You sound pretty sure.”

He nodded. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly a fan of bullshit. You’re smart, and baseball’s pretty much the stupidest sport. You hit the ball, you throw the ball. Not exactly rocket science.”

Izzy’s stomach tensed.
If it’s so damn easy
, she thought,
why can’t I understand it?
An awkward silence bloomed between them. 

“Listen, that came out wrong,” he said in a rush, and when she glanced back at him, his eyes were intent on her. “Not everyone can understand the game. It’s…more than it seems.” He paused, glancing speculatively over at her. “You know, you’re not going to learn anything from those note cards of yours.”