Jake Lawrence, Third Base (Bottom of the Ninth #3)

by Jean Joachim

  “Hey, Jake! How’s the car?”

  The third baseman filled his buddy in on the glorious experience of driving his new Lexus. Then Kate piped up.

  “And tell him it’s not a total gas guzzler,” she said.

  In a moment of silence, his stomach clenched.

  “Did I hear a woman’s voice?” Skip asked.

  “The TV,” Jake lied.

  “Bullshit.”

  “I think the other team just scored,” Kate said.

  Jake covered his eyes with his hand. No hiding her now.

  “That was a woman! I know a live woman’s voice when I hear it. So, you’ve picked up someone, already?”

  “No, no. Nothing like that.” But, in fact, that’s literally what he did—picked her up.

  “Don’t lie. I know you. Is she hot? Stupid question. Of course, she’s hot. Blond or Brunette?”

  Not usually a shy man, Jake got too flustered to respond.

  “Oh, a redhead? I see,” Skip continued.

  “No, really. You got it all wrong.”

  “Am I interrupting?” Skip sniggered.

  Jake heard the others in the background. Then it sounded like Skip had dropped the phone. A different voice spoke.

  “Hey, asshole, you busy?” It was the catcher, Matt Jackson.

  “Yeah. I’m watching the Rangers game. What do you want?”

  “You’re watching the game with a hot chick in your room? Right,” Matt said, chuckling.

  “You want something?”

  “Nope. Not a thing.”

  “Good. I’m hanging up now.”

  “Don’t want to keep you from your, uh, date.”

  “Are you saying she’s a hooker?”

  “Only you would know,” Matt teased.

  “Fuck you, Jackson.”

  “So you admit you’ve got a girl there?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “I’ll bet. Wait. Nat wants to talk to you.”

  Jake made an impatient sound, drawing Kate’s attention.

  “What? Your teammates?”

  “Yeah, annoying pains in the ass,” Jake mumbled.

  “So how’s the car?” Nat asked.

  “Fine. Look, I gotta go,” Jake said.

  “Got a girl there?”

  “So?”

  “Don’t let me stop you,” he snickered, laughing.

  “I won’t. There’s nothing happening here. It’s not like that, for the millionth time. So fuck off!” Jake clicked his phone off, mumbling more obscenities.

  “Pleasant conversation?”

  “How’d you guess?” He looked up. Kate had slipped on his jersey and was headed for her bed. Looking at her, waif-like in the giant garment, never got old. He wanted to hug her and hold her all night long. Never gonna happen. He sighed.

  “Lights out?” she said, slipping between the sheets.

  “Don’t think that isn’t sexy on you.” He rolled on his side.

  “I bet it’s sexier on you,” she countered.

  He laughed. “Not from where I’m sitting.” She thinks I’m sexy? Hope rose anew in his chest.

  She propped her head up on her hand. “I doubt I’ll ever be able to repay you.”

  “For what? A couple of meals? I’d get the motel room anyway.”

  “It’s more than a couple of meals.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ve been there.”

  “Liar. No you haven’t. If I get the part, then I’ll have the money to pay you back.”

  “Forget about it, will you? It’s chump change.”

  “Not to me. You’re my hero.”

  There was no comeback to that. No one had ever called him a hero before. Emotion swirled through him.

  “Thanks,” he coughed out.

  “Welcome. Come on. Douse the lights. We’ve got an early day tomorrow if we’re going to see the bison in Bartlesville.”

  “Yep.” He reached out a long arm and flicked off the light, but stayed facing her. Again she took the spare pillow and hugged it to her, circling it with her body. He wished he could trade places with that bundle of fluff.

  * * * *

  They sang together through Oklahoma until they got to Tulsa and headed north.

  “You’re pretty good, you know,” she said, punching the address of Woolaroc into the GPS.

  “Good at what? Driving?”

  “Singing.”

  “Me?” He laughed. “My mother would disagree.”

  “You’re good. With some lessons, you could do it professionally, if you ever leave baseball.”

  “I love baseball. Singing is for fun.”

  “I get it,” she checked the website. “It says not to use the GPS.”

  “That’s weird.”

  “They give directions. We’re not that far.”

  “Good. I need to stretch my legs.”

  The image of him dressed only in boxers flashed through her brain. His legs were something else. Strong thighs and calves, shaped perfectly. Nothing bulgy or out of proportion about Jake Lawrence. When he turned his back to her, she had wanted to touch his shoulders. Watching the muscles work as he got dressed, or undressed—even better—turned her on.

  They had been traveling for five days. Kate managed to hold out, but she didn’t know for how much longer. Every night she got into bed, wishing a fairy godmother would change the pillow clutched to her chest to Jake. She chuckled to herself. She didn’t need a fairy godmother. She could do it herself. With one look, one gesture, he’d be in her bed in a heartbeat. He’d sure made that clear enough.

  The thought of his desiring her made her mouth water, then go dry. Giving it up to Jake might be what she needed. Loneliness had been her constant companion for so long, she’d become used to it. Obviously, he was smitten with her, or was he only interested in sleeping with her? She doubted that. A man only looking for sex wouldn’t have been such a gentleman for so long. He’d have put the moves on her by now.

  Maybe there was something there for them. They sure got along great, traveled together seamlessly, and had fun singing together. She knew the song so well by now, it’s as if she’d written it herself. A doff of the hat to Jake for that, for his patience listening to her sing it a hundred million times, then joining her in song.

  She liked him. He was a nice guy with talent. Nice to her, which she wasn’t used to. He brought out her softer side, which she was sure had evaporated long ago. He took care of her. No one had since she was ten. She’d lived without it for so long, it no longer mattered. But Jake had unearthed an overwhelming desire to be cared for, even a little bit. A desire she thought long dead had turned out to be alive and well.

  How could she trust him so fast? It wasn’t like her, but he hadn’t done anything to frighten or hurt her. She’d needed to believe in someone for so long and maybe Jake Lawrence was the answer. The thought scared the shit out of her.

  They pulled up to the parking lot. Jake forked over the twelve dollars, and they went in. The museum was an eclectic mix of artifacts, Indian blankets, and art set inside a large log building with a stone facade.

  “Come on. Outside,” he said, taking her hand.

  They walked the trail, looking for animals.

  “I want to see some bison. Up close and personal.”

  They found the creatures and Jake hopped over the pen.

  “Be careful!”

  “I’m fine.”

  One of the huge creatures didn’t fancy Jake in his space and made chase. The ballplayer took off, vaulting over the fence and ripping the skin of his hand open on a piece of metal. He whipped out a handkerchief and wrapped it around his left hand.

  “Oh my God. What did you do?”

  He frowned. “I know. You told me not to go in there.”

  “Come on. Let’s get you fixed up.” She tugged on his sleeve and found someone in charge. They had a first aid kit. The woman gave Jake a hard stare.

  “Did you see the sign?”

  “What sig
n?”

  “The one that said keep out?”

  “Nope. Sorry.”

  The cut didn’t need stitches. The woman bandaged him up and refunded his money.

  “I think maybe we’d better leave, ya know?” Kate said. Jake agreed. While the woman wasn’t mad, he was noticeably embarrassed. He hadn’t even glanced at the sign, but they saw it on their way out. How could he have been such an idiot? Relieved to get back in the car, Kate navigated them back to Tulsa.

  “We need to stop and get supplies for that hand.”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “It’s not nothing.”

  He kept going, heading for Tulsa.

  “If you don’t stop, I’m going to yell and scream that you’re holding me against my will when we stop to eat.”

  Jake grumbled but pulled into the lot of the next big pharmacy they came across. Kate hit the first aid center. She noticed Jake wander over to the counter.

  She found antiseptic cream, bandages in various sizes, and pain killer before she joined him. He was stuffing something in his back pocket.

  “Gimme that stuff,” he said, grabbing the basket. They went to the cashier, a middle-aged man. He looked at Jake, then at Kate. A slow, salacious grin spread over his face as he rang up the items. The man’s eyes rested on her chest a moment too long. He looked up at Jake and winked. Something was going on, and she didn’t like it. Folding her arms across her breasts, she moved back, almost behind Jake. He paid for the stuff and took the bag.

  As they walked out, she glanced back at the man, who was still smirking at her, and closed her fingers around Jake’s biceps.

  “What the hell was that about?”

  “Sorry. I bought some condoms from the guy first. Guess he put two and two together.”

  “Well, he’s sure added wrong, didn’t he?” She stepped away from him.

  “I’m sorry, honey. Honest. They’re cheaper here than in New York. I was only buying them to take home.”

  “Yeah, right.” She shot him a suspicious glance.

  “If I should get lucky—remember I said IF. I’m prepared. That’s all.”

  “And you were a boy scout, too, weren’t you?”

  “An Eagle Scout, to be exact.”

  “That clerk thinks we’re getting it on,” she piped up.

  “Who cares what he thinks? He’s a rude asshole. Come on, it’s time for lunch. Get us to Tulsa. Let’s find a mom-and-pop place to eat,” he said, opening the car door for her.

  “I’m on it.”

  She watched him get in the car. He flinched when he tightened his left hand on the wheel, but he didn’t say a word. If she changed her mind about sharing his bed, at least she’d be safe. She chuckled to herself. Maybe getting those was a good idea.

  “What’s so funny?” he asked, putting the car in reverse and backing out of the space.

  “Nothing. Let’s go. I’m hungry.”

  “Yeah? Me, too.” He turned the wheel and sped out of the lot and onto the road heading for Tulsa.

  I’m hungry. Hungry for you Jake Lawrence, baseball player, gentleman and hottie.

  Kate found a little café. There was parking right out in front, which made Jake happy. He would be leaving his luxurious car where he could keep an eye on it. The waitress recognized him and gave them a table in the window.

  “Jake Lawrence, New York Nighthawks?” Her brown eyes got wide.

  “Yep.”

  “Can I have your autograph? You’re lucky, honey, to be with this guy.”

  Jake signed something for her, and they placed their order. Kate knew she was lucky to be with him, but it was strange to hear the woman say so. Maybe someday she’d be famous, too, as a Broadway star. Then someone might say he was lucky to be with her. A rueful smile played on her lips. She was so far away from that day, it was silly to even think about it.

  She had ham and waffles, Jake had a burger deluxe. He left a big tip and they climbed into the car. The GPS showed them the way and before long, they were back on Route 40 heading east.

  Jake played Dolly Parton as they whizzed along the highway, heading for Arkansas. Kate went to sleep, resting her head against his shoulder. When she awoke, they’d reached Fort Smith.

  Tight little lines around his mouth and a slightly paler complexion bothered her. He was driving mostly with his right hand.

  “Why don’t we stop and find a motel early? I need to change the dressing on your hand.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “Are we going to go through this again?”

  “What?”

  “Me threatening you to get you to do the right thing?”

  “Okay, okay. Where do you want to stop?”

  “Next sign that says motel and vacancy.”

  They pulled into another Carruthers Motel. Jake checked them in. Kate carried her own backpack so he wouldn’t use his left hand. He flopped down on the bed by the window, understanding she preferred the one by the bathroom.

  Once they were settled, she took the bag with the first aid supplies and approached his bed, where he was stretched out.

  She took his hand and ripped the bandage off fast. He jumped but covered up the pain. It was as she had suspected, getting red and possibly infected

  “This doesn’t look good. You need to soak it.” His hand rested lightly in her palm.

  “It’s fine.”

  “Shut up! I’m in charge here, and I say it doesn’t look good. I’m going to get a bowl.”

  Chapter Four

  When the door clicked shut behind Kate, Jake closed his eyes. His left hand had been throbbing for a while. It hurt more than he let on. He refused to appear weak in front of her. But, damn, it was sore and driving had been difficult. Gripping the wheel only aggravated the cut, increasing the pain. The constant pulsing ache, hour after hour, wore him down. Although he wouldn’t admit it, he was tired. When she had wanted to stop, he was relieved.

  The third baseman was about to doze off when she entered, chattering away and carrying a stainless steel bowl. She approached him.

  “Don’t fall asleep! Let me fix this up first.”

  “It’s fine. Really.” He tried to sound convincing but didn’t even impress himself. Still, he needed to sleep and her insistence annoyed him.

  “Would you shut the fuck up and let me take care of you?” His eyes widened, and he faced her. Anger and concern flashed in her eyes.

  “But I don’t—” he started, sitting up.

  She placed her small palm on his chest and pushed him back down. He collapsed like a deflated balloon.

  “Let me do my thing. You’ve been taking care of me, now it’s my turn. It won’t hurt. I promise.”

  “I’ve heard promises like that before,” he mumbled through tired lips.

  The fight went out of him. The pain refused to go away, alarming him. Whether he’d admit it or not, he needed help. He did as he was told, secretly glad to have her in charge. She ran water in the sink, then returned with a steaming bowl, and placed it on the nightstand.

  “Let’s get this cleaned up.” She took out gauze and dipped it in the water, then added soap. Holding his hand, she gently cleaned his cut. Even with her soft touch, it hurt like hell. He flinched, then cursed himself for looking like a sissy.

  “Now soak it,” she instructed, slowly easing his hand into the hot water.

  “Damn! It’s hot!” He yanked it out.

  “That’s the point. Get used to it a little at a time.” Holding his hand, she eased it into the water. Within a few minutes, he was able to stand the heat. After he soaked it, she applied antibiotic ointment, cleaned up the mess, and returned to his bedside.

  “How does that feel?” Her thumb stroked his wrist. Her tender touch made him smile, despite the ache. For such a brash woman, she had a sweet, softer side that surprised him.

  “Pretty good.” Her fingers soothed his nerves.

  “Too hot?”

  “Nope. Just right.”

  “Okay
. I’ll change the water in five minutes and make it hot again.”

  When the time was up, she examined his hand, cleaned the wound again and refilled the bowl. She repeated the process every five minutes for half an hour. Her nursing skills reminded him of the care he got from his mother whenever he’d hurt himself as a child. It pleased him to be under Kate’s sharp eye.

  “Looks like your body is taking care of this now. I see the red is getting lighter.” She cleaned it up and bandaged it. She bent down and placed a kiss on the gauze, then handed him a glass and two ibuprofen.

  “Here, take these. Then it’s nap time.”

  He did as he was told. Kate grabbed the extra blanket from the closet and spread it over him. She tugged on his shoulder. When he sat straight up, she put the second pillow behind him, punched it a few times and urged him back. She leaned down and brushed her lips against his forehead.

  “Gotta rest to heal.”

  “You know what you’re doing. Ever been a nurse?”

  “I used to take care of my mom when she got hurt. Sometimes she’d find an abusive boyfriend at the track. I’d patch her up.”

  “You have a healing touch.”

  “Thank you,” she said, her gaze dropping to her hands, her blush heightened her coloring.

  Exhaustion and her kiss had relaxed him. He’d never expected such intimacy or sweetness. She kissed his hand again.

  “My dad used, to do that. And it always helped. I don’t know if I have his magic touch, just thought I’d try,” she said, the deepening blush shading her cheeks.

  “It does help,” he said, cupping her cheek for a second with his good hand.

  She fished a book out of her backpack and stretched out on her bed. His eyelids weighed a ton, so he closed them. Soon he was asleep, dreaming of being enveloped by her gentle love and spending a glorious night in her bed.

  * * * *

  She lay there, staring at Jake while he slept. Her gaze roamed slowly over every inch of him. He looked cherubic, his face relaxed, the pain lines eased away. He slept on his side, facing her. She studied the slope of his nose, his blond lashes—which she bet were longer than hers—fanned out on his cheek. His lips, decidedly masculine were so kissable, she had to hold herself back from climbing on the bed and ravishing his mouth.