Double Play

by Jennifer Bernard

  Maggie didn’t want to mention that she didn’t eat much meat. “Um—”

  “You know there’s only one way to welcome someone to Kilby.” A vibrant voice resonated from halfway down the hallway. They both spun around.

  Dwight Conner and Jim Lieberman were walking toward them, and it was pretty much the most hilarious thing Maggie had ever seen. She bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud at the way their ballplayer physiques strained the seams of those princess gowns.

  “It’s gotta be barbecue, and it’s gotta be with a couple of Catfish players.” Dwight’s smile blazed so brightly, Maggie felt it all the way in her gut. “Hi there. I’m Dwight Conner.” He shook her hand. She felt that too, down to the soles of her feet.

  “I’m Maggie Blythe,” she said, ending the handshake before it got her too rattled. “I’m a big fan of you both.”

  “Yeah? Been watching our games? Haven’t seen you at the stadium,” Dwight said.

  “No, I mean Frozen. Great movie.”

  He threw his head back in a laugh that sent his thick blond braid swinging past his broad shoulders. “I wanted to do Moana, but Bieberman refused to wear a grass skirt.”

  Jim Lieberman shook himself out of the trance the sight of Nina had apparently inspired. “I didn’t want to scare the kids with my hairy legs.”

  With a mischievous look, Nina lifted the hem of his dress to reveal boots and lots of hair on his muscular legs.

  Lieberman blushed to the roots of his hair. “I told you I was hairy, but they say it’s a sign of virility—not that I’m saying that—or denying it—”

  Dwight stepped in with a calming hand on the shortstop’s shoulder. “What my man wants to say is that we hope you’ll join us for some barbecue after we’re done entertaining the kids here.”

  “Yes.” Lieberman nodded emphatically, then adjusted the wig that kept sliding off. “That’s exactly what I wanted to say. It would be our honor to welcome Maggie to Kilby.”

  “Just Maggie?” Nina asked teasingly.

  “No! You especially. I mean, both of you. Equally.”

  Maggie bit her lip to keep from laughing at poor Jim Lieberman’s confusion. Obviously he liked Nina just as much as she liked him. She stole a glance at Dwight, shocked to find that he was looking right at her. His expression was somewhere between curious and friendly. He had such a sparkle in his eye. Something lit up inside her, a spark of excitement, a kind of hidden thrill.

  “Well, Ms. Maggie Blythe?” he asked her. “Will you and Nina join us?” He tilted his head toward the other pair, just enough for her to get the hint. He was trying to get the two of them together. She was definitely in favor of that.

  “Sure, but I don’t usually eat meat.”

  They all stared at her for a shocked moment.

  “This is Texas,” Nina pointed out.

  “I’m aware. It’s a…it’s just a thing.” Jeez, she really didn’t feel like explaining all the naturopaths and nutritionists and osteopaths her parents had consulted.

  Dwight seemed to sense her discomfort. “How about that new wine bar that just opened up?”

  Great. She didn’t drink alcohol either. Too risky for her heart.

  Lieberman looked at Dwight as if he’d just switched to another language. “I’m sorry, did you just mispronounce ‘beer’?”

  Nina laughed even more than the joke deserved.

  Dwight flipped his braid over his shoulder. “Can’t a ballplayer enjoy a glass of wine? Open your minds, y’all.”

  Nina gave Maggie a pleading glance. Obviously her roommate wanted to go out with the Catfish players. Maggie wanted to offer support, but socializing with baseball players would definitely be a new thing for her. As much as she’d studied baseball, as many games as she’d watched, all the time she’d put into writing her computer model, she’d never actually spent time with a real ballplayer.

  Then again…a double date with two hunky ballplayers—not bad for a geeky grad student. “I’m in,” she said, then grinned happily. “As long as you guys promise to wear your dresses.”

  Their shocked expressions caused her to burst out laughing. “I’m kidding.”

  “This one’s trouble, Beebs.” Dwight shook his head. “Trouble with a capital M for Maggie and a capital S for Smart-ass.”

  “Trouble begins with a T,’” Lieberman pointed out.

  “Okay, Spell Check. You got me.”

  “Please don’t tell me that’s my new nickname.”

  “It’s a lot better than ‘Bieberman,’” Nina pointed out. “I’m starting a petition to dump that one.”

  “Hand me a pen,” said Lieberman promptly, causing them all to break into laughter.

  This. This was why she’d moved halfway across the country. So she could have a little fun for once in her life.

  3

  Kilby was the kind of smallish Texas city where cowboy boots and pickup trucks reigned. In terms of restaurants, the Roadhouse and umpteen barbecue spots got the most traffic. The newest hot spot, called The Best Little Wine Bar in Texas, had a relaxed, kickback atmosphere. The clean and simple decor featured framed photos of Texas landmarks mounted on the cream-painted walls. The only suits and ties Maggie spotted as they walked in were track suits and bolo ties.

  Nina and Maggie arrived before Dwight and Jim. Nina ordered a bottle of white wine—“because I can now, in every state!”—and Maggie chose club soda. They claimed one of the round cocktail tables, which were surrounded by high cushioned stools. Maggie awkwardly climbed onto one of them while Nina perched on hers like a hummingbird. Maybe athletic genes ran in the family.

  “So what do you think of Jim?”

  Maggie blinked, calling up his stats. “Well, he’s five ten, a hundred and sixty pounds, shortstop, fielding percentage .944, batting average .262, born in Brooklyn, New York.” She paused in her recitation when she saw Nina’s eyes filling up with mirth.

  “Can you do that for all the players?”

  “Of course.”

  Nina clapped her hands together. “Do Dwight now.”

  Maggie rattled off what she remembered. “Dwight Conner, center field. Six feet, two hundred and four pounds, .294 batting average, born in St. Louis, Missouri. African-American. Bachelor’s degree in Sociology. Current team captain. Star of a recent Nike ad featuring Minor League baseball players.”

  “I see you looked me up on Wikipedia.” Dwight slid onto the stool next to hers. Of course, all he had to do was snag the stool with his foot, shift his hips and lower himself onto the cushioned surface. He made it all look smooth as silk. Lieberman followed suit.

  “No, she knows all of you guys,” Nina said proudly. “The good, the bad and the ugly.”

  “From behind a computer screen only,” Maggie said quickly. “I’ve only met a couple of players in person.”

  “You’re probably better off sticking with the computer screen.” Dwight grinned at her, eyes shining.

  He wore black twill trousers and a textured button-down shirt in a rich brown the color of pinto beans. He had a classic, almost retro style that really appealed to her, sort of an old-school movie star look. His hair was trimmed very short, showing off the fine shape of his head.

  She experienced another spasm of doubt about her own outfit, a simple emerald slip dress that she wore over leggings. She adjusted the silky dress, feeling it slide up her legs.

  Dwight claimed a glass and poured himself some wine from the bottle. Quiet fell between them. She wasn’t sure what to talk about. In some ways, she knew all about him, or at least all about his performance on a baseball field. But in most ways, he was a complete—but attractive—stranger.

  Nina and Jim Lieberman were no help at all. They were having their own private conversation on the other side of the table. The way he was looking at Nina, as if the sun had just walked into the bar, gave Maggie a feeling she rarely experienced: envy. Mostly she was too immersed in her work to feel anything like envy.

  Luckily, Dwight
saved the day. “Where are you from, Maggie?”

  “The Boston area. My father and mother are both professors at different colleges there.”

  “Brainy family?”

  She shrugged apologetically. “I suppose you could say that. They’re both scientists. My father’s a linguist, my mother’s an astronomer.”

  She waited for the inevitable joke about horoscopes.

  He tilted his head and squinted at her. “Were you just thinking that you might have to explain the difference between astronomy and astrology?”

  She jerked slightly, nearly knocking over her glass of club soda. “No.”

  “I don’t believe you.” A wide smile spread across his face, a flash of white teeth in the dark expanse of his skin. “You were thinking that someone who hits a ball for a living might not know what astronomy is.”

  “I wasn’t thinking that. Upon my honor, I wasn’t.”

  “Upon your honor?” His amusement ripened into a laugh, a rich, flowing sound like melted chocolate. “That might be the first time I ever heard someone outside of a movie say that.”

  “I’ve…read it in books and always liked it.” This always happened to her. Things slipped out that she’d read in a book and forgot that people didn’t say in real life.

  “I can see why. It’s old-school but cute.”

  Cute. A god-like baseball player had just called her cute. “By old-school I suppose you mean anachronistic.”

  “Damn, that’s cute too. I like a woman with a vocabulary. Maybe I’ll start working some of these into my lingo.” He put on a fake British accent. “‘Duke, upon my honor, if you don’t put me in the lineup you’ll regret it for the remainder of your days.’ It works perfectly with the name ‘Duke,’ right? That’s our manager, but you probably know that.”

  She laughed out of pure astonishment. It was kind of genius, how he’d deflected her awkwardness into something so hilariously perfect.

  Still grinning, he started to pour her a glass of wine, but she put her hand over her glass.

  “Sorry, this is water. I don’t drink alcohol.”

  He simply nodded and filled his own glass instead. No interrogation, no raised eyebrows, no insistence on changing her mind. His sensitivity made her relax, and she realized that Dwight was a perfect example of an “emotionally intelligent” person. Her parents and many of the people she’d known in grad school could learn from him.

  A waiter brought a plate of marinated olives and salted almonds. The snacks drew Nina’s attention away from her conversation with Lieberman. Maggie felt stupidly disappointed by no longer having Dwight to herself.

  She noticed the same emotion on Lieberman’s face, but he gamely followed suit and joined the general conversation.

  “Maggie was just telling me what a big reader she is,” Dwight told them.

  “Oh, me too!” Nina exclaimed. “Books always kept me company when Trevor was away. They’re like your best friends who are always there for you.”

  “I can be your best friend,” Lieberman piped up. To her left, Maggie saw Dwight give a tiny shake of his head, as if warning Lieberman not to go there. But the shortstop didn’t notice. “Just because you’re a man and I’m a woman doesn’t mean we can’t—I mean—I’m a man and—” He came to a stammering halt.

  Dwight put the poor guy out of his misery by changing the subject. “I still want to know why Maggie here used to read so much. I thought you were a computer expert. Numbers, not words.” He folded his forearms on the table. His strong, muscled, mouthwatering forearms.

  Maggie swallowed and dragged her gaze away. So Dwight already knew who she was? Maybe it wasn’t so odd. The Kilby Catfish was a small operation with only about fifty staff members who weren’t ballplayers. “I like both numbers and words, but I always had more of a knack with numbers. There was a time when books practically saved my life.”

  Nina’s eyes went wide. “Do you mean that literally, Maggie?”

  “Oh no, it’s just a figure of speech.” She waved one hand, forgetting she held her water glass. Dwight steadied her arm so she didn’t fling liquid across the room. His rough, warm palm circled her wrist, making her skin tingle. He dropped the contact quickly, as if he was just as surprised as she was.

  “But the way you said it gave me chills. Was that when you were dealing with your heart issues?”

  Nina’s artless question made Maggie wish she was back at her computer messing with parameters. She’d never asked her roommate to keep her medical situation private, so she couldn’t blame her. Maybe it didn’t matter—no one at the table looked anything but friendly.

  She glanced back at Dwight, who was watching her warmly. “It’s okay, Maggie. You can tell our nosy asses to bug off. We won’t hold it against you.”

  She smiled, and somehow it didn’t seem like such a big deal anymore, now that Dwight had magically lightened the tension. “Yes, it was because of my heart. I was born with a heart defect,” she explained. “I spent a lot of time at home. Most of my teenage years, I was homeschooled.” She took a soothing sip of her water. “I read a lot. All of my knowledge about real high school comes from books and movies. And sometimes strange phrasings slip out because I only know the written way, not the spoken way. I also got hooked on televised baseball games. The Red Sox, for better or worse. And there you go, all my weirdness explained.”

  It wasn’t the most embarrassing secret a person could confess. But even so, her face burned with awareness. The other three people at this table had no doubt experienced perfectly normal childhoods. They probably thought she was a freak. Which she was, in a way. She knew that, and didn’t mind because what choice was there? A person could only be whatever they were. It wasn’t as if you could pick from a menu.

  “You didn’t miss much,” Lieberman said after a short, possibly stunned silence. “The only good thing about high school was baseball. And chess club,” he added after a moment.

  “I hated high school,” Nina said. “I was the smallest person in my class and everyone treated me like a mascot.”

  Dwight reached over and patted her on the head. “What was your school mascot, a tiger cub?”

  She glared at him and swatted his hand away. “Exactly what I’m talking about.”

  “I said ‘tiger’ because they’re fierce, girl.” He shook out his hand as if she’d bitten it. “Ain’t a Catfish around who doesn’t know how fierce you are. Just like your brother.”

  Lieberman’s whole body jerked, as if he’d suddenly remembered she was related to the infamous Trevor Stark. As they all watched, he physically leaned away from Nina, like some kind of pendulum.

  Nina stared at him. “Oh my God. You’re scared of Trevor.”

  “He did spend time in juvie,” Lieberman pointed out. “He’s like a junkyard dog about his family.”

  “He’s in California, for heaven’s sake.”

  “But there’s airplanes…” His voice trailed off as even he realized how ridiculous that sounded.

  She slid off the stool and shouldered her bag. “I need to get some air. Sorry, Maggie, I don’t mean to ruin your evening, you should stay and have fun. And you,” she pointed to Lieberman, “better not follow me if you can’t handle my brother.”

  Lieberman’s face crumpled as she stalked toward the door.

  Maggie froze. What should she do now? Did Nina want some space or did she want company? If she was upset, maybe she needed a friendly ear.

  She started to slide off the stool, but Dwight stopped her with a hand on her thigh. On her thigh. Right above the knee, and only with the intention of halting her departure, but still—hot awareness vaulted through her nervous system.

  He was addressing Lieberman now. “You gotta go after her, man. You heard her.”

  “She told me not to!” In despair, the younger guy dragged his hands through his hair. When he was done, it looked like a squirrel had run across his head.

  “No, she didn’t. She said if you follow her, it’ll prove
you’re not afraid of Trevor.”

  “She did?” He looked from Dwight to Maggie and back. Maggie offered him a sympathetic face. She wasn’t a hundred percent sure that Dwight was right—or wrong. Social dynamics were not her area of expertise. She preferred to be direct.

  “Just trust me, Beebs. She wants you to follow her. She wants you to stand up to Trev. Even if he beats your ass. And if he does, I’ll back you up. Dude needs to lighten up. Now go, do your thing. Work your magic. We’ll be here if you crash and burn.”

  “Nice. You always know what to say.”

  Dwight laughed softly as Lieberman shot toward the door. Maggie’s attention was more focused on his warm hand, which he now lifted off her thigh. The place where he’d touched her tingled with heat.

  “Sorry about that,” he told her. “I wanted to make sure Beebs got his shot. He’s been screwing it up for months.”

  “Right, good call. I know she likes him.”

  “He’s a good guy. He just needs a kick in the ass.”

  Now that they were alone, her awareness of him intensified a thousand percent. His muscles pushed against the fabric of his shirt, and his skin glowed with deep, vibrant color. She swallowed, her mouth suddenly lacking in saliva. “I should probably go too.”

  “No, please don’t.” He gave her a quick touch on the arm that made goose bumps rise on her skin. “If you leave, I’ll be drinking here alone and that doesn’t look good.”

  She glanced around the wine bar. A group of women gathered around a table were shooting envious glances in her direction. How many of the women in this bar would love to be sitting on this uncomfortable stool, chitchatting with Dwight Conner? Most of them? All of them? “I doubt you’ll be alone for long,” she told him. “You’ll probably have your pick.”

  “If that’s so, then I pick you.” His high-voltage grin nearly knocked the breath out of her. “I’ve been hoping to talk to you alone.”