St. George had excellent tee-ball and peewee leagues. Elise’s triplet brothers had come up through the program, moving over to accelerated ball in seventh grade. They were all amazing ball players with scholarships lined up for college. Elise was super proud of them and bragged often. Not that Elise was a slouch either. She’d played college softball. A knee injury brought her home and to the Redrocks, but that girl could play.
“All right, well …” Tilly checked her watch. “I think we should start in the locker room.” The team had a game that night, but their little tour shouldn’t be in the way of anything important. And it was always such a thrill for the kids to see the locker room.
She herded the group down the stairs and through the back hallways, all the time talking about how things worked, who was in charge of what, and telling them tidbits about the players. “And Juan Castillo is allergic to spinach.” She grinned when this brought up a chorus of I’m allergic to comments.
One little guy with chubby cheeks and dark hair tugged on her arm. “I can’t have gluten.”
“There’s a lot of people who can’t have gluten. It’s a common allergy.”
“Do any of the players have that?” He was so hopeful, so full of hero worship just waiting for a target.
“I don’t think anyone on the Redrocks is, but I know there’s a player on the Phillies who does. I’ll bet he could eat dinner at your house and be fine.”
The kid grinned so big he looked like a jack-o’-lantern. “He could. We keep our house gluten free.”
“That’s awesome!” She offered him a high five. She was so caught up in his earnest excitement that she didn’t check the locker room before they entered. All twenty of them, seventeen kids and three adults, walked in on Brayden and Gunner having a heated discussion.
Tilly’s gaze immediately buzzed to Brayden. She took in the determination in his eyes, the anger in his clenched jaw, and the frustration in his closed fist. Whatever Gunner had said had really ticked Brayden off. They stood like two alpha males, horns locked.
She cleared her throat loudly. They turned to see who was interrupting, and their demeanors flipped. Gunner pasted on his public persona, the same one she’d seen in the staff meeting.
Brayden’s eyes were all over her, drinking her in. The heat that had always been between them turned into an inferno. “Tilly, your hair,” he whispered in awe as he stepped forward, his arms out to pull her close. Time slowed down to a stop, and the room was suddenly theirs. Tilly’s heart swelled, shaking off the outer crust she’d managed to develop to protect herself. The welcome, the awe, the love in Brayden’s eyes was all she needed. She moved towards him, her body responding without asking her head if it was a smart idea.
Gunner coughed into his fist. The sound was harsh enough to stop Tilly before she fell into Brayden’s embrace. She turned her back to him, so close that his body heat skimmed along her skin and his scent, part leather, part alpha, filled her senses. She blinked in the fog.
“Hey, guys. I’m Gunner Pinch.” Gunner offered high fives and rubbed heads.
Tilly remembered herself. “Gunner is the newest pitcher for the Redrocks.”
The kids were properly awed, but their eyes darted back to Brayden.
She stepped to the side and held her hand out. “And this is Brayden Birks.”
“No way!” Her chubby-cheeked little friend surged forward. “Will you sign my shirt?”
Brayden laughed. He glanced at Tilly, exchanging a he’s awesome look. “Are you sure your mom won’t get mad?”
An intense pang lurched through Tilly. She’d read him so easily. Even now, as his eyes cascaded down her newly freed hair, she knew that he was imagining what it would feel like to slide his fingers through it.
And now she was imagining what it would feel like to have his fingers in her hair.
The whole group surged to surround Brayden. He worked the room, teasing kids, rubbing their heads as they grinned up at him.
Gunner sidled up next to her. “They know I’m the one who actually plays baseball, right?”
She leaned over so she could talk quietly. “Brayden’s kind of a legend with kids. He’s toured all the elementary schools in the area and a few of the middle schools. He inspires them to go after their dreams, to work hard, and to learn from everyone they can.”
Gunner grunted.
She laughed lightly. “Don’t worry. They’ll soon think you hung the stars too.”
He lifted a hand and fingered the ends of her hair. “This is new.”
She bit her lip. “I was ready for a change.”
He cocked his head. “Were you, now?”
She blushed, realizing how it might come across that she was implying more than a change of hairstyle. “I, uh …” Was there a good way to explain that she only meant her hair without making it sound like she was shooting him down? She was about to try, when she felt Brayden’s glare. The scowl wasn’t directed at her, but at Gunner, and she only got the slightest singe from standing so close. Brayden had never looked so dangerous, so livid.
So amazingly hot. She loved it when he focused. On the mound, when his mind was only on the next pitch and his eyes were intense, her body lit up.
There would be no lighting here. Not now. Definitely not with children around.
Tilly spread her arms out and began gathering up the kids. “All right, we’re ready to move on. Let’s go see the field.”
The visiting team was out on the field, going through warm-ups. She had to walk the kids through the dugout, along the wall, and through the small gate, all the while doing her best not to distract the players. She sucked her stomach in. She’d be lucky if she had a job tomorrow. This was so, so bad.
The grounds crew was going to kill her for all the footprints, but all she could think about was how amazing Brayden looked, how much he looked like her defender, like the man she’d thought he was before he’d broken up with her.
She was just getting the kids settled when Brayden called her name. She folded her arms across her middle and handed her clipboard to one of the teachers. “Can you give me a second? There are trivia questions on there.” The woman nodded, and she stepped back on the dirt. “Is there something I can help you with?”
He ran his hand through his hair and cursed. “Are you into Gunner?”
She stared at him, her mind splintering to a thousand replies.
There was reassurance: Of course not, darling. I only have eyes for you, you big hunk of burnin’ love.
There was shock: Gunner?!
There was indignation: What gives you the right to ask?
“Because he’s not what he seems. He’s a punk kid who’s had the world handed to him.”
Tilly scoffed. “Weren’t you the one who said the minors weeded out the weak?”
“He got a lucky break.”
She sucked her lips in. Gunner’s lucky break was Brayden’s bad luck.
Brayden held up his hands. “I just … I just want to talk to you for a little bit. There’s so much going on and … can we just talk?”
“About what?”
“Not here.” He glanced around. The Toronto players were finishing up and the Redrocks would take the field soon. There was hunger in Brayden’s eyes, a need to be on the field, to be a part of this game that made her ache for him. “Will you meet me on the golf course later tonight?”
She’d cherished their time on the grass, the soft tickle of the blades, the sound of his heart beating next to her cheek. If she met him between the earth and stars, she would want to kiss him, and he’d made it clear that they couldn’t be together. “No.” The word came out so quietly she almost didn’t hear it.
“No?” he asked, shocked.
He shouldn’t be shocked, because he. Broke. Up. With. Her. She ground her teeth. “You can’t have bits and pieces of me, Brayden. I’m not a, a buffet.” That was actually a great slam. Brayden loved buffets. Not only was there a lot of food, but he didn’t have to choos
e just one thing off the menu. Well, she was not going to let him pick and choose her. “I need to get back to my class.”
She left him standing there and didn’t look back. If she looked back and saw him hurting at all, she would crumble. She couldn’t crumble. She had to be strong. Be strong, and one day her heart would forget that it had ever belonged to Brayden.
Chapter Seventeen
Brayden
Technically, the pregame spread was for players, but since Brayden was a special assistant to the manager, he got to eat with his buddies on the team. There were a few other staffers like him scattered throughout the tables. Elise would eat with them after the game, if she had time. He’d brought Tilly here a couple of times, and no one said a word.
He didn’t have to stick around for the game, but there wasn’t much else to do at home, and it felt strange to be a part of the Redrocks and not be there for the game.
Besides, his dad was on a date. Some lady from the church he’d gone to on Sunday. Brayden hadn’t met her or anything. He wasn’t even sure it was more than a distraction while his dad was in town. It was nice that Dad was making friends. Maybe he could convince him to buy a place of his own, stay close.
He walked into the clubhouse and found a buffet set out. A buffet.
Tilly was not a buffet.
He wasn’t even sure what that meant. But he did know that Tilly had turned him away. She’d never done that before. She was the chill one, easygoing. If she didn’t have to work, she was up for whatever he had going, or she’d plan a hike or bike ride for them.
Her refusal had knocked him senseless. He’d never pictured a world where Tilly turned him away. Maybe she’d felt the same, and then he’d gone and betrayed that trust. It didn’t feel good. It didn’t feel good at all.
He’d thought about little else as he’d worked out. Doc had upped the intensity of his exercises. He still couldn’t rotate his shoulder—a key factor to throwing a baseball. Even though no one believed he could do it, he knew all things were possible. It was only impossible until someone proved it was possible. Why couldn’t he be that someone? A small part of his brain knew that he wasn’t going to get to that point, but he wanted to get as close as he could. Knowing that he’d done everything in his power to create a miracle was important. If not, he’d always wonder.
He wondered about a lot of things these days. He snatched up a plate, getting in line behind Dustin. “’Sup?”
Dustin grinned. “Me. I’m feeling fine.”
Typical pregame answer from the shortstop. “Sweet.” They chatted as they loaded their plates. Brayden noticed that his had significantly fewer calories than Dustin’s. He wasn’t burning the calories his friend was cranking out in pregame, and if he wanted to stay fit, he needed to change his intake.
He took a seat next to Blake, who was deep in a stupid argument with Juan about who was the fastest player in the league. He angled himself so they wouldn’t try to include him. Juan could talk. His skills on the field were far outweighed by the number of words that pumped through his mouth.
The room suddenly went quiet. Brayden looked up to see if Coach had come in; the guys often hushed in case he had an announcement to make. Instead of Wolfe, he saw Tilly—and Gunner.
Gunner took her elbow and led her over to the stack of plates. She tucked her hair, that gorgeous, beautiful golden-brown hair, behind her ear. Brayden had loved her dreads. They were unique, and they’d suited her—low maintenance and yet wild and free. He’d imagined her having them as she walked down the aisle to him. To see her look so different was a little unnerving, like a piece of his girl was gone. And yet, he couldn’t deny that the change in her appearance had shocked him, stealing the breath from his lungs. His fingers itched to run his touch the silky threads even now. Not being able to explore the texture, the weight of it was driving him nuts.
Brayden glared at his plate, no longer hungry.
Juan’s head whipped back and forth so fast he had to have whiplash. His eyes went crazy big. “Dude, don’t hit him. Okay? That’s a really bad idea. And I don’t think Coach would appreciate you starting a fight. I mean …” He licked his lips, a sure sign that he was just getting started.
Brayden held up a hand. “I’m fine. Can we just eat?”
Juan’s head bobbed. “Yeah. I mean. That’s what we’re here to do, right?” He shoveled a large forkful of chicken into his mouth and chewed with as much enthusiasm as he talked.
Conversations started back up, at a much quieter level. Like everyone in the room was half listening for things to blow up.
The only empty seats in the place were at the table behind Brayden. It seemed like people had heard about Gunner inviting Tilly to dinner and they’d filed in hoping for a show. They were going to be disappointed.
“So how are you fitting in?” Tilly asked Gunner as they set their plates down and took their seats.
“Some guys are cooler than others.”
Brayden snorted and then swiped his face with a napkin to cover it. Some guys. The Redrocks were the best group of guys in the MLB. They had your back.
“They all love you, though,” added Gunner. “You’re golden.”
Brayden could imagine the slight blush that spread across Tilly’s cheeks, even though his back was to her. “That’s not true,” Tilly replied. Her voice wobbly with sadness and a dose of resignation.
Did she mean him? Did she think he didn’t love her because he wanted more for her than a broken man who didn’t know where he stood in the world anymore? He blew out his lips.
Dustin elbowed him.
Brayden threw his napkin over his half-empty plate. “Thanks for dinner, guys.” He stood, his chair bumping into the one behind him.
Someone grunted. Yeah, like he’d done that one purpose. “Sorry,” he mumbled to Gunner.
“No worries.” Gunner smiled up at him.
He was so full of himself Brayden wanted to smash his plate in the guy’s face, take him down a notch or two. If he could still throw, he’d bury him in a pitch-off.
He glanced at Tilly. She had her head down, her hands in her lap. He moved his plate to his left hand. As he walked past, he let the back of his right hand brush the hair that hung over the back of her chair. His skin tingled and his hand twitched to touch her shoulder. He barely kept himself from crossing that line. Touching her was out of the question, but he couldn’t forget how soft she was, or the way she molded her body to his for life-altering kisses. And now that he’d felt her hair, he wouldn’t be able to be rid of that memory either.
She gasped as if she’d felt the contact. Brayden kept his eyes forward, not acknowledging what he’d done.
Chapter Eighteen
Tilly
Tilly’s scalp still tingled from Brayden’s hand brushing against her hair. His touch had gone up the strands like a fuse of dynamite. When the fuse burned all the way to her head, she flushed from her hairline to her toes. Suddenly, she was fantasizing Brayden’s fingers curling into the strands, massaging her, working out all the tension and stress she constantly carried.
Several minutes tiptoed by before she realized Gunner was talking to her. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“I asked if you were going to the game tonight.”
“I’m working the home plate section.”
“Great.” He leaned his elbow on the table, bunching his muscles so they got bigger and bigger still. That probably impressed a lot of women, but Tilly had seen—had felt—much bigger, much stronger arms around her than Gunner’s. “Do you get much time to watch?”
She thought about standing at the back of the section, checking tickets and arranging for food orders. “I should have tons of time.”
“Sweet. I’ll wave to you.”
“From the bullpen?” joked Blake. He turned in his seat so he was facing them. “I doubt you’ll see playing time tonight, young Padawan.” His eyes cut to Tilly, gauging her response.
Tilly’s cheeks burned under hi
s scrutiny and the attention of so many other people in the room. She’d come here for dinner several times with Brayden, and they usually sat with Blake, Dustin, and Juan. She considered them friends, but sitting at a different table made it clear that she had become an outsider of sorts. Brayden had their loyalty. That’s the way it should be, but still, it stung.
She almost hadn’t come in here at all. Gunner had stopped her in the hallway, eyeing the candy bar she held in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. “Please tell me that’s not your dinner.” He’d glared at the chocolate as if it had personally offended him.
“Okay, I won’t tell you.” She’d smiled as she took a large bite.
He’d taken it away from her and thrown it in the garbage. “You’re eating with me tonight.”
Tilly had tried to protest, but Gunner countered all of her reasons for not being there. Of course, she hadn’t said the biggest one: Brayden. She didn’t want to talk about him to Gunner. The two men didn’t see eye to eye, and she didn’t want to get in the middle of that. In the end, she’d come because she didn’t think Brayden would be here. He’d gone straight home after his sessions with Gunner—a fact she’d come to count on. And she’d missed being in here with the guys. They made her laugh.
When she’d walked in and all noise and movement stopped, she knew she’d stepped over a line. If she could go back, she would. But then she’d thought, Why should I leave? She wasn’t going to let Brayden dictate where she went or who she hung out with. She hadn’t let him do that when they’d been dating—not that he’d tried. He was always happy to go wherever she wanted to go. She’d filled their spare time with desert breezes and nature’s beauty. Heck, she’d even pictured a baby carrier on his back once. Her future always included him, so her decisions included him. But she didn’t have to do that anymore. So what if she wanted to? He’d taken himself out of the equation.
Her eyes dropped to the floor and then back up to Blake. If he’d teased Brayden, she would have come up with a response or joined in the teasing.
Intentional Walk: Dating Mr. Baseball Book 3 Page 12