Too Hot to Handle: A Boys of Summer Novel (14 page)

The game with Atlanta got off to a frustrating start. It was only the third inning, but Ryan struck out when the umpire made a bad call, Jake was robbed of a home run when a fan interfered with the ball, and Cody got bowled over when a burly Atlanta batter slid into him and was knocked to the ground.

Nikki sat beside Pete, hearing the head coach grumble between pops of bubblegum. The weather wasn’t helping. Although it was only late June, the temperature was well into the 90s, and the humidity was unbearable. Chase was pitching, and Nikki could see the sweat pouring down his face. He had to remove his hat every couple of minutes to wipe his eyes, and she could tell he was having trouble holding on to the ball.

“Who’s that?” Nikki shaded her eyes as she saw a man standing behind home plate taking copious notes.

“A scout.” Pete shrugged. “New York’s sniffing around.”

Nikki shivered, remembering what Darcy had said. She knew the Yankees were interested in Jake. Was that why the scout was here again today? It seemed kind of cold to her, to watch other teams develop talent and then cherry-pick them because you could. But baseball, she reminded herself, was a business after all.

As the heat and humidity increased, tempers flared. Atlanta was trying out a new pitcher, a young kid they’d just brought up from the minors. He was having trouble with his location, but he seemed to have an attitude, like a street punk intending to make a name for himself.

So when Ryan walked up to the plate and assumed his batting stance, Nikki gasped when the pitcher seemed to deliberately throw right at his hands.

She saw him grimace in pain, toss down the bat, and walk to first. He was still massaging the back of his hand, and his teeth were clenched as if it really hurt.

“That’s awful!” Nikki turned to Pete, her expression horrified. “He did that on purpose. He threw right at him.”

“Young hothead.” Pete shook his head.

“How can he get away with that?”

“They’re watching him. It happens again, they might take him out. But even though it looked like it was deliberate, that’s hard to prove. He could say anything. The ball slipped in this weather. He made a mistake.” But Pete seemed far from happy. “This happens to Ryan sometimes because he crowds the plate and the pitchers don’t like that. So sometimes they try to throw close to him as a warning to move off. But I think that was intentional.”

“I just hope he isn’t badly injured. He keeps rubbing his hand, and Ryan normally doesn’t do that.”

“Yep. I just hope our boys don’t take it into their head to retaliate.”

Nikki wasn’t sure what he meant, but soon learned when in the next inning, the pitcher came to bat and Chase “accidentally” hit him.

“Oh no,” Nikki breathed as the pitcher walked to first base.

The crowd booed, getting to their feet. She could feel the tension building, especially when Atlanta scored.

“I can’t believe Chase did that.”

Pete shrugged. “That’s part of the game. You notice he didn’t hurt the guy. Just sent him a message not to try that again. If he has any brains, he’ll pay attention.”

Now, Jake was at the plate. Nikki watched, her anxiety building as he dusted off the ground with his cleats, deliberately smearing the lines around the base. He was a switch-hitter, and because the pitcher was a southpaw, he was on the opposite side of the plate. Assuming his position, he held the bat and waited for the pitch.

The ball screamed across the plate at ninety-five miles an hour and hit Jake hard in the arm. The bat fell from his hands as he grasped his elbow in shock and pain. Before anyone knew what was happening, Cody tossed his catcher’s mask to the ground and charged the pitcher.

Nikki got to her feet as Pete tried to stop the players, but the bench cleared and they poured onto the field, furious. Testosterone pounded, fists flew, and an all-out brawl ensued as the tension between the two teams exploded.

“Jesus!” Pete swore under his breath and rushed onto the field, joined by the umpires, then the other coaches. The security guards fought to hold back the fans as they tried to climb the gate and enter the fray.

Nikki covered her face with her hands, unable to watch while the reporters had a field day. Television cameras zoomed in, cell phones clicked, YouTube went viral as Cody was torn off the pitcher, and the fight was finally broken up.

Her eyes immediately searched through the team, looking for one man. A group of the Sonics were gathered around a player who was on the ground, obviously injured. Nikki’s heart was in her throat as she gripped the rail, her knuckles white as she became aware that the team physician was jogging onto the field.

Jake.
Was that him? She couldn’t see who’d been hurt. Anxiety welled up inside of her as she thought of him lying helpless on the dirt, and a thousand mental images flooded through her brain of athletes whose careers had ended when they were incapacitated. A ballplayer on the West Coast was now in a wheelchair, and wasn’t it Pete Rose who had barreled into a catcher, causing a permanent shoulder disability?

She watched as the doctor put down his bag to tend to his patient. She couldn’t picture that for Jake; she didn’t know what he would do without baseball. He wasn’t the type to be on the sidelines managing or coaching; he was too full of life, too much involved with the game.

Pete waved his arms, signaling that the players should clear the area. The crowd moved back, giving the doctor the space he needed as he proceeded to pull several instruments out of his bag.

It was then that she saw number 11 stand up. The breath she’d been holding expelled from her lungs, relief flooding through her.
It wasn’t him.
Jake
wasn’t hurt. Her eyes squinted as she tried to make out which of the players was injured, and how seriously. Her relief was short-lived: she gasped when she saw it was Chase.

Their ace pitcher appeared unconscious. Nikki froze in fear as the doctor knelt beside him and withdrew a slender flashlight from his bag. He opened Chase’s eyes and examined his pupils. From a distance, Nikki could see him performing a couple of other tests, and even from the railing she could tell he wasn’t happy with what he saw.

The doctor gestured toward the wall, and Nikki’s stomach churned as a couple of men came onto the field with a stretcher. They lifted Chase onto the makeshift bed and carried him outside, where she could see the red flash of an ambulance light.

An overwhelming sadness swept over her as she made her way back to the bench. Her mood seemed to reflect the feelings of everyone around her; while the players assumed their positions, it was clear none of them had any heart for the game. They went through the motions, making minimal effort.

The crowd was strangely quiet, and it seemed as if a black cloud had settled over the stadium. Nikki swallowed tears as Pete returned, and she turned to him anxiously.

“Is he okay?”

“Don’t know yet,” the head coach replied, his voice rough. Nikki understood he was fighting his own emotions. “Damned fools,” he swore a moment later. “What the hell were those boys thinking? If Chase is hurt…”

He couldn’t finish the sentence. Nikki stared at the field for a moment, and then spoke quietly. “Darcy must be so upset.”

“They let her ride in the ambulance with him. Yeah, she was putting on a brave face, but I could tell. Only good news is he opened his eyes by the time they got him to the car.”

“Concussion?” She said the word they all feared.

“It’s pretty likely. I didn’t see who hit him, but he went down hard. Big price to pay to show the world you’re a bunch of tough guys. Losing your star player in the middle of the season is a tragedy. Not to mention that concussions can take years off a ballplayer’s life. I only hope…”

He couldn’t say what he was thinking, but Nikki could fill in the gap. Obviously, Pete could only hope that Chase wasn’t hurt worse.

“What happens now?” Nikki couldn’t take her eyes off Jake.

“They’ll take him to the hospital, run a bunch of tests. Make sure nothing else is going on. Then they’ll probably observe him for a couple of days until they figure out how bad it is. He’ll have a damned headache tomorrow, that’s for sure.”

He turned to Nikki and put a consoling hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry. Seems like these boys were determined to ruin all of your work, and I wouldn’t blame you if you quit. We both know how this is going to look to the fans and everyone else. You tried so hard to polish them up, get rid of that Garden State Goons moniker, but in the end they proved us wrong. Guess you can’t put lipstick on a pig.”

Nikki couldn’t have said it better herself.

She left the game, despondent. Maybe Pete was right; maybe it was time to cash in her chips. She’d been so convinced all this time that with the right amount of effort, the right publicity, and a little coaching, she could create a new brand for the Sonics. The worst part was that up until today, it had been working. The newspapers were definitely being more fair, and in some cases almost positive. The TV coverage had improved, and slowly the team was being perceived in a different light. Ticket sales were up, and even the owner had noticed that more families were attending the games. He was even considering adding a playground behind the first-base gate where parents could take toddlers for a break between innings.

Concession revenues were up as well, for with families came purchases of food, tee shirts, hats, and balls. The Sonics’ owners got a percentage of those sales, which added to the bottom line.

Best of all, the team was in better physical and mental shape than ever before. All of the little things had added up: the chiropractor, the diet, the massages, the practice drills, and the discipline. Slowly but surely, they were seeing improvement in their game.

And they had thrown it all away on a temper tantrum.

Worst of all, they had lost not only a key player, but a great guy. Nikki had spoken to Chase only a couple of times, but she had seen enough to know his work ethic was impeccable, and for a pitcher so young, he was incredibly focused. To have him get hurt midway through the season was awful. And she could only hope there were no long-term effects from his injuries.

And it could have been Jake. The nausea she’d experienced earlier came back as she realized it could have been him being rushed to the hospital. She didn’t know if she had the stomach for this—not just for the game, but for the kind of relationship he seemed to want.

No strings.

No emotions.

It was what she thought she’d wanted as well, but she realized her heart hadn’t been paying attention to her brain. She thought of him mentoring Joaquin, taking care of his mother, rushing to the hospital to be with Chase. Then she envisioned their romantic night on the beach, him showing up at Osteria like a proverbial knight in shining armor, ditching the boys to be with her.

And then she thought of their lovemaking, which she knew was not just sex, but much more.

Nikki groaned. Somehow, this lanky ballplayer, who hid a heart of gold beneath his cocky exterior, had wormed his way into hers.

As she walked through her door, she noticed her cell phone was blinking.

Jake.

She knew she should answer, but she didn’t want to talk to anyone. She was upset, confused, and depressed. She was too worried about Chase, and she didn’t have it in her to hear the news, whether it was good or bad. Nikki felt totally and utterly drained.

She powered off the cell.

Once in the townhouse, she made the mistake of turning on the television. Every station carried the film of the Sonics’ melee. The video was even worse than the memory. The commentators were merciless, showing clips from past years when the team conducted themselves in a less-than-noble manner. It all made for great TV.

And a terrible image.

They honed in on Chase lying on the ground with the doctor beside him, and Nikki’s stomach turned.

Switching off the TV, she went into the kitchen and took out a bottle of whiskey from her cupboard that had been a Christmas present. Grabbing a glass, she filled it to the brim.

The bar was open at the Case house tonight, and she was drinking.

Jake heard the phone roll into voicemail. Puzzled, he clicked off his cell, wondering what was going on with Nikki. He knew she was upset; he’d seen her face from the field and it was written all over her. But it wasn’t like her to ignore his calls without even a text status in return.

Glancing at his watch, he saw that it was close to eight. Maybe she was just tired and needed some rest, or maybe she was on the phone. But he suspected it was more than that. Nikki had just watched months of hard work flush down the drain. While he knew she was concerned about Chase, she had to be thinking about her own future as well.

Sitting in the waiting room with Cody and Ryan, they rose in unison when the doctor came out with a folder.

“He’s going to be okay,” he said briskly. “He was unconscious, but so far not showing any signs of concussion. He’s a little dehydrated, and has some lacerations and bruises that we are treating. We’re keeping him overnight under observation just to be safe. His parents are here, along with his girlfriend. He isn’t allowed any other visitors.”

“Thanks,” Ryan said.

The physician’s eyes shifted among the three players, and his lips tightened. “He could have been seriously hurt. You boys need to rein it in.”

Jake nodded, while Cody flushed bright red and Ryan stared at his shoes.

“I’d suggest you get some sleep. I’ll make sure the nurse calls you if there are any changes or updates. Just leave your numbers with the front desk.”

Ryan took his advice, aware that his wife had probably seen the evening news, and deemed it better to get home.

But Cody and Jake stayed where they were. After a while, one of the nurses relented and let them into Chase’s room. Jake was appalled to see the handsome pitcher hooked up to an IV, monitors, and a bunch of other tubes and devices. Darcy dozed in a corner chair, while his parents sat on the opposite side of the bed.

As they stood beside him, Chase’s eyes flickered open. “Hey, Hollywood,” Jake said softly. “How you feeling?”

Chase tried to smile, but it seemed as if the effort was too much and his eyes closed again.

“They gave him something to help him sleep,” Chase’s father said simply as he gazed at his son. “I warned him. I told him to take the New York deal before he got hurt.”

Jake nodded. “I did too,” he said softly. “But he’d made up his mind. I think he felt with the Sonics he could make a difference.” He gazed at his friend, who was sound asleep, unaware of his room full of spectators.

“Damned fool,” Chase’s father said gruffly.

Jake nodded. “Aren’t we all.”

As he walked outside to his car, Jake saw that Nikki had not returned his call. He tried again, but her phone immediately rolled into voicemail and he realized she had turned off her cell.

Jake frowned. As a public relations representa
tive, Nikki had to be in constant contact with the media. More than that, she’d never done this before.

Jake didn’t like it. As much as he wanted to go home, grab a shower, and sleep, he found himself heading south toward Marlton. It was just concern, he told himself. Same as he felt for Chase. Same as he would have felt for anyone under these circumstances. Yet as he drove down Route 295 at top speed, his anxiety grew.

Maybe she’d decided to throw in the towel. He couldn’t blame her if she did; after all, her failure with the Sonics would only be a black mark on an otherwise stellar career. And Nikki took a lot of pride in her work. It meant more to her than just a paycheck.

Yet the thought of her leaving disturbed him more than he would have thought possible, and he didn’t want to consider the implications of that.

He pulled up in front of her neat little townhouse and saw that it was dark. Maybe she had gone to bed. Just then her light went on upstairs, where he now knew her bedroom was. He made his decision. Striding up to the townhouse, he pounded on her door.

Nikki appeared, surprised to see Jake standing in front of her. “I thought you were at the hospital,” she said thickly as she stared at his uniform in confusion.

“I was there; I saw Chase. He’s doing better, but under surveillance. I saw that he needed some rest and I was going to go home, but when I didn’t hear back from you, I got worried.” He glanced at her hand on the doorknob. “Can I come in?”

“Sure,” she slurred, her vowels tripping over her consonants as she turned and walked into the townhouse. She indicated the whiskey bottle. “Bar’s open.”

“I see that,” he said, closing the door behind him. His eyes measured how much whiskey remained, and he mentally made a calculation. He remembered seeing the full bottle the last time he was here, when Nikki served their wine. Pouring the spirits freely into a water glass, she handed it to him, and then started to do the same for herself.

He stopped her, grabbing the bottle. “Whoa. Let’s get some ice.”

“Okay.” She seemed amenable to that idea, but when she walked toward the refrigerator, he saw she was more than a little unsteady on her feet. Jake discreetly yanked open the freezer, pulled out an ice tray, and filled both glasses to the brim. He had to empty some of his whiskey into her glass to accommodate the ice, but at least that cut the servings in half.

“Cheers,” he said, fighting the grin that threatened to break out on his face. He tipped his glass to Nikki’s.

“Churrs,” she replied, and then started to throw back the liquor.

“Easy there,” he said, taking her glass with his own and leading her to the patio out back. “Let’s sit outside. We’ve got all night.”

“But we don’t,” she tried to explain. “You—I mean the team—you have jobs. You have to get up tomorrow and play again. I don’t think I will.”

As she tumbled into one of the Adirondack chairs, he looked at her incredulously. “You honestly think they’re going to fire
you
over this?” He took the seat beside her.

“I failed.” She tried to gesture with her hands, and the result was hilarious: it looked like birds were flying around her head. “It didn’t work. I thought they’d understand, that they would come around. But they didn’t. And now Chase is hurt.”

Her speech was a series of disjointed words that Jake had to paste together. “None of that is your fault. There was nothing wrong with your plan. The Sonics are a bunch of hotheads. Some of that is part of the game; some of it is just who they are. You
are
making progress; everyone knows that, including Jeffrey. If he and Pete are going to be pissed at anyone, it’s going to be us.”

Nikki shook her head, and when she wasn’t looking, Jake substituted his half-empty glass for hers. He knew she wasn’t a drinker, that this was uncharacte
ristic for her. But he also realized that if he didn’t slow her down, she’d have a hell of a hangover tomorrow.

“They hate me. I know they do. Maybe that’s why they fought, just to show me they don’t want me. You know, like the night at the restaurant?”

Jake laughed. “That’s not it. They are not that calculated. That would require some brains.”

She started to smile crookedly, and then hiccupped.

“What you saw today is what happens when a rookie pitcher tries to make a name for himself and isn’t controlled by his management. They should’ve taken him out of the game and none of this would’ve happened.”

Her glass was empty and when she was about to go inside to refill it, he reached for her instead. “Let’s go upstairs.”

“Yes,” she said, obviously pleased with his suggestion. Yet she couldn’t hide a yawn as the alcohol caught up with her, and she stumbled trying to make her way back into the house.

Jake solved the problem by simply sweeping her up into his arms. She started to protest, but wasn’t coordinated enough to do anything other than wrap her hands around his neck. He took her into her bedroom and placed her in the middle of the bed.

“Jake,” she said softly as he removed her shoes one at a time. “I think you’re really hot, do you know that?”

“I’m glad,” he said, choking back laughter. “Now let’s get you out of that suit.”

She complied by lifting her arms, allowing him to slip off her jacket. The skirt came next. She tried to unzip it, but wound up feeling for the wrong side. This time Jake openly chuckled, unzipped the skirt, and tugged it over her knees. The outfit looked expensive, so he hung it in the closet before returning to her side.

She was in her bra and panties, looking devastatingly beautiful. Her lingerie was sapphire-blue satin this time, and Jake realized that in spite of her polished exterior, she had a weakness for gorgeous underthings. His breath caught at the sight of her, and his body began to respond. But her eyes were heavy and she seemed to struggle just to keep the lids open.

“Jake.” She lifted her arms toward him. “I want you.”

Her total trust made him swallow hard. “I know, honey. But you seem really tired, and so am I. It’s been a long day. Why don’t you get some rest?”

“Stay with me?” Her voice was fading fast.

Jake glanced down at his scruffy uniform, aware that he needed a shower, and he had a forty-minute drive ahead of him. But Nikki was looking at him from under those lashes, so he kicked off his sneakers and lay beside her.

That was even more torturous. She was right next to him, almost naked, her blue eyes meeting his. There was something in them, a depth of emotion that caught him unaware. Thankfully, they closed and he heard her breathing deepen.

When he was certain that she was asleep, he rose to the side of the bed and retrieved his shoes. He was tying the laces when he heard her murmur softly.

“I thought it was you. On the ground. Hurt.”

It came out like a sob. Alarmed, Jake looked behind him, but Nikki was fast asleep. Unfamiliar warmth swelled inside him like an ocean wave, and he swallowed hard, choking on the emotion that threatened to overwhelm him.

She’d been afraid for him.

He suddenly understood what this was all about. The whiskey. Her despair. It wasn’t just about failing, or her fear of getting fired. It wasn’t even just about her concern for Chase, although he knew that was real.

She was upset because she’d thought he’d been injured. He meant something to her. Jake rose from the bed, pulled the covers over her gorgeous body, and then pressed a kiss to her forehead. She looked like a slumbering angel, all that black silk hair sprawled across her snow-white linens, her lashes now fanned against her cheeks, her mouth a perfect pink bow. Slowly he walked out of her bedroom, turning off the light, and then down the steps and out to his car.

It was a long ride home.