Enamored

by Susan Scott Shelley

  And he did.

  Slade adjusted his helmet one last time before glaring at the pitcher. He got into his batting stance. The crowd went wild, on its feet, cheering this last chance.

  The pitcher threw a hard curve ball that started at Slade’s shoulders and quickly dropped into the strike zone, fooling Slade completely, and leaving him standing with his bat in his hands as the umpire called him out. Strike three. Striking out without swinging the bat was the worst possible way to end the game.

  The crowd went silent.

  Slade stayed in the batter’s box, head down, while the catcher moved past him to congratulate the pitcher.

  All the excitement drained from the stadium, the fans headed to the exits.

  This was now officially the worst game of his career.

  He walked to the dugout, not looking at the stands. Most of his teammates had cleared out but Dom and Adam waited there.

  With Dusty.

  His manager met him at the top of the dugout. "What the hell were you looking at out there?"

  Slade dropped his bat. "I fucked up. He fooled me. What do you want me to say? It was a good pitch."

  "I should have benched your ass after your last fuck up. Your head hasn’t been in the game at all. You’re done. Benched. I’ll give Russo a chance at first base for the rest of the week."

  "What the fuck?" Slade slammed his helmet on the ground. Anger boiled in his veins. He stepped closer, hands clenched into fists at his sides. "You can’t do that."

  "I can do whatever the fuck I want." Dusty jammed his finger into Slade’s chest, pushing hard with every word. "Keep talking. You’ll be riding the bench for longer."

  "Get your hands off me, asshole."

  "Asshole?" Dusty's eyes narrowed and he shoved Slade back a step. "You’re done for the season."

  "Push me again, old man, and I’ll knock your wrinkly ass out."

  Dom, Adam, and the third base coach rushed over. Pulling Slade back, Dom got in between Dusty and him. He nudged Slade, directing him down the dugout steps. "Calm down. Let’s go. That’s enough."

  Slade glared at the field where the third base coach was trying to calm Dusty down. "Did you hear what he said? That prick’s trying to bench me."

  Adam joined them and patted him on the back. "Let’s get to the showers. You need to cool off."

  "Yeah." He headed for the showers, intent on avoiding any conversations and just getting the hell out of the ballpark.

  When he left the locker room, Tim from security met him in the hall. After a quick glance around, Tim pulled him to the side. "The GM called Dusty up to his office. Rumor has it that he’s being let go. No official word yet though."

  "Whoa. That would make my night. Thanks for the heads-up."

  Word had spread fast. The halls buzzed with gossip. Proving once again that they had his back, Dom and Adam entertained the reporters long enough for Slade to slip out.

  He tried to put the game and speculation over Dusty out of his mind while he drove to the bar. It was one of a one-hundred-sixty-two game season. They had another game tomorrow. Dwelling on this one wouldn’t help. But damn it, did he have to screw up so badly? No way would he let the old man bench him.

  Parking next to Savanna’s car, he realized she was still sitting in the driver’s seat. Seeing him, she jumped out and shut the door. She crossed to him, her red sundress showing off curves he’d touched only hours before.

  When her arms wound around his neck and her lips pressed to his, the tension melted from his muscles. He wrapped his arms around her and soaked in the serenity she gave him.

  After a long moment, she eased back. "Are you all right?"

  "Better now." He kissed her cheek and hugged her closer, and then drew away.

  "Tiffany and James are meeting us inside?"

  "They’re probably already here." He held the door for her and kept one arm around her as they wove through the room toward his birth parents and half-siblings. Crowded around a booth, the group waved.

  James stood when they arrived. "Exciting game this afternoon."

  "Not one of my best." Slade managed the smile more easily, but his embarrassment and irritation at his actions on the field still stung.

  "Every player has a bad game now and again." James patted him on the shoulder. "You’re a top contender with the fans’ vote for the All-Star team, so just put it out of your mind and worry about the next game."

  Slade made the introductions between Savanna and the others, and then they slid into the booth beside Tiffany.

  She patted his hand. "I didn’t like the way the manager got in your face when you were in the dugout. He shouldn’t be allowed to talk to you guys that way."

  "For him, that was pretty mild. But yeah, I agree. A personality like Dusty’s can become a cancer in the clubhouse." It already had. Most of his teammates were grumbling about Dusty and the tension in the clubhouse was thicker than he’d ever experienced. Who knew what would come of Dusty’s conversation with the GM?

  Under the table, Savanna’s hand squeezed his thigh. "I wanted to run down there and tell him to back off. I saw what happened after the game. He’s awful."

  He covered her hand with his, pleased at her protectiveness. "Thanks."

  His phone buzzed with texts from Dom, Adam, and Liam.

  Dom: Time to celebrate. Dusty is officially fired.

  Adam: GM is holding a press conference now. Said what happened after the game was the last straw and it was clear Dusty had lost the locker room.

  Liam: Dude! Celebration tonight!

  The weight hovering over his heart lightened and he couldn’t contain the grin spreading over his face. "I just got word that Dusty’s gone. Fired tonight."

  “Good riddance to him.” James nodded and then smiled. "I never liked him as a manager. And I especially disliked his treatment of you. Let’s celebrate."

  Slade wrapped his arm around Savanna’s shoulders and turned his attention to the people around the table. Celebrating worked for him.

  They sat for more than an hour, over shared appetizers and a mix of drinks, and he got to know the family a little better.

  He definitely was less of a stranger to his family than before. But he still felt like an outsider.

  SAVANNA

  AFTER HIS BIO FAMILY left, Savanna and Slade moved to the bar. She'd been pleased when he'd asked her to go with him to meet them. Curiosity over who they were and the knowledge that Slade needed her had made for an easy yes. "I liked them."

  "I do too. I'm hoping that they'll eventually feel more like friends than strangers. Even family."

  She squeezed his thigh in reassurance. "I'm sure they will."

  Slade wrapped his arm around her shoulder as the bartender set fresh drinks on the table. "I was thinking about vacations for the off-season, and there's something I wanted to ask you."

  He was including her in his months-away plans. Heat and pleasure curled through her system. "Ask away."

  "How do you feel about swimming with sharks?"

  She blinked, surprised at the unexpected question. "You're serious?"

  "Yeah. There's a five-day trip, cage diving off the coast of Mexico's Guadalupe Island. We're guaranteed to see sharks. Up close. What do you say?" Eyes shining, he lifted his brows. "Five days on the water. You and me."

  "That part sounds good, but the shark part?" Voluntarily getting up close and personal with one of the ocean's deadliest predators seemed crazy. She'd have a hard enough time dealing with the flight to Mexico.

  The bartender sidled over toward them. Blonde and busty, she leaned over to scoop up the empty glasses. Unashamed of eavesdropping or flashing her cleavage, she shot Slade a slow smile of obvious invitation. "I'd do it in a minute."

  Irritation, unease, and jealousy twisted together, and Savanna kept her arm below the bar to avoid hauling off and punching the woman for infringing on their conversation and on her man. What was she supposed to say—that instead of scary sharks, she'd prefer
swimming with happy dolphins at a luxury resort? Yeah, right. That sounded really brave. Ignoring the woman, she twisted toward Slade, pleased when the hand draped over her shoulder pulled her closer.

  Slade shot the blonde a semblance of a smile and immediately turned to Savanna. He linked their fingers together under the table. "They follow a careful safety protocol. You remember what I told you. I do a lot of research and I'll always keep you safe. When we get home, I'll show you the website."

  When we get home... They spent most nights together now, enough to keep clothes and toiletries at each other's places.

  He moved their linked hands to rest on the bar, in plain sight of the bartender and anyone else interested. "I've never done this before and I think it would be something really cool to share together."

  She loved that he wanted to share experiences with her. But some of his ideas were dangerous, especially to someone like her. Even so, she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, projecting as much confidence as she could manage. "I'd love to see the site."

  Grinning, he talked about the accommodations and amenities and how they should take an intro to diving course together to prepare. Like this trip was a definite, and her confidence was acceptance of the plan.

  With the bartender hovering, Savanna couldn't relax or talk to Slade about limitations. Catching the blonde's eye, she frosted her voice. "Can we have the check?"

  Slade slid his hand down Savanna's back and nuzzled her neck. "Good call. Let's get out of here. My apartment is closer, so let's spend the night there."

  The blonde came back. With a smirk at Savanna, she pushed a glass with the check rolled inside to Slade. A piece of paper behind it had her name and number scrawled across the bottom.

  He glanced at the check and stuffed it back in the cup with some bills, burying the offending piece of paper. Savanna smirked in return at his action and slid her hand into his back pocket as they exited the bar.

  Once they were tucked into his bed with his laptop, looking at the shark dive site, she broached the subject. "When we were para-sailing, I mentioned that I didn't think I ever wanted to go skydiving, and you said that was okay."

  "It is. I'll never force you to do something you don't want to do."

  "I don't think I ever want to do bungee jumping either. Or hang-gliding. Or cliff diving. And when I ski, I stick to the bunny trail."

  His brows knit in confusion. "Okay?"

  "I like that we've taken some risks. But I still have fears, and I think some might be self-preserving."

  "I know. We still need to get you back to that diving board and the firehouse pole." He cupped her face with his hand. "If the sharks are too much, you don't have to go. I'll never push you past your limits."

  You don't have to go, not we won't go.

  If she stayed, he'd still take that vacation. Maybe with someone else. Someone like that blonde bartender. She didn't like that at all. But she also didn't want to feel like she had to do things she didn't want to do just to hang onto him. "I'll think about the sharks. The cages are really strong. And seeing them up close would be amazing."

  He grinned and then drew her close. His lips closed over hers, firm and warm. Too soon, he pulled back. "We can do anything you want too. Just name it, and I'll make it happen."

  His enthusiasm and generosity were overwhelming. But he operated from a base of no fear. Making promises like that were easy to him. No risk on his part because he was brave enough to take on the world.

  She wanted to be with him and he wanted to be with her, but was that enough when they were so different in their tastes? She'd known a couple who'd divorced after twenty years of marriage because their differences outweighed their similarities.

  She didn't want Slade to grow to resent her for not wanting to try things that he wanted them to share. But she also didn't want to be forced past a reasonable comfort zone either.

  Maybe they were too different to be together.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  LIAM

  LIAM INCREASED HIS pace to a faster walk on the treadmill and settled his attention on the TV hanging on the wall. His ankle felt pretty good. One week to go until the All-Star game. He wasn't back to jumps yet, but Andy had approved a few small, easy stunts. He couldn't wait to race across the field on the ATV and hear the fans cheer.

  Fin's comeback was so close, he could almost taste it.

  On screen, highlights of the previous day's Riptide game played. He cheered when they showed Slade's grand slam home run. The team's abrupt firing of Dusty had flipped a switch for the team. All the guys were playing better because they loved and respected the new manager, a former player who had mentored Dom in his rookie days.

  Happy for his buddies, he watched the ball fly though the air and pumped his fist in celebration.

  His stomach clutched as his feet flew out behind him and he scrambled to stop his fall.

  Too late.

  Landing on the floor, he rolled his healing ankle. White spots dotted his vision. Gasping and wincing and cursing at the pain, he collapsed, grabbing at his ankle.

  Andy and the personal trainer rushed over, checking him, asking questions. Liam rubbed his hands over his face. This wasn't good.

  After an x-ray and a thorough examination, he sat on the training table, staring at his ankle in disbelief.

  The mild sprain was better than a major one, but it was still enough to throw a wrench into his recovery.

  And ruin his plans for the All-Star game.

  Fuck.

  Andy rolled the elastic bandage around Liam's foot and ankle. "You need to keep weight off of your foot for three days. Elevate the injured or sore area on pillows while applying ice and anytime you are sitting or lying down. Apply the ice or cold pack for ten to twenty minutes, three or more times a day. After forty-eight to seventy-two hours, if swelling is gone, apply heat to the area that hurts. If by Thursday, you feel like you still need the support of the bandage, call me." He paused and met Liam's gaze. "Scratch that. I want to see you in here on Thursday and look at it myself."

  "Don't trust me to be honest, Doc?"

  "I know how upset you are about being relegated to the golf cart for the big game. So no, not right now. Even though you didn't feel pain in your ankle before the sprain happened, it was still swollen from the prior injury, and now, from the sprain, it's swollen even more and there's pain."

  "Okay. I'll try to stop in." Nope. Not gonna happen. He'd manage on his own.

  "There's a game Thursday night, so if you don't come to me during the day, I'll easily be able to track you down when you're in Fin's costume."

  He heaved a sigh. "Fine."

  "I know you're disappointed. You were progressing well. My hope was that you'd be ready to return to the field with at least some of your gymnastics moves by the end of July. I can't promise that now. The plyometric exercises will have to be pushed off for at least a few more weeks, and we'll need to take them slowly. I know you're not going to like this, but I'm recommending that you don't return to the field in full-on Fin mode for the rest of the season."

  Furious at his own carelessness, Liam balled his fists and slammed the exam table. "That's two and a half more months, not counting the playoffs. I can't wait that long." No way. No fucking way.

  "Getting back out there too soon is a mistake. You don't have the strength or mobility yet. This sprain is going to set you back another two weeks at least."

  "I could try doing the stunts and landing on one leg."

  "You could, and then you risk falling over because your sense of balance is compromised. You risk inadvertently landing on the injured ankle, too."

  "Andy, I can't lose this job. I was supposed to be back on the field by the All-Star game next week."

  "That's not going to happen. I'm sorry."

  "Can't we wait to see how I am at the end of the week?"

  "The initial treatment of a sprain includes resting and protecting the ankle until swelling goes down for about one we
ek. That's followed by a period of one to two weeks of exercise to restore range of motion, strength, and flexibility. It can take several more weeks to several months to gradually return to your normal activities while you continue to exercise. Next week, we can see where you are in terms of motion, strength, and flexibility, but before this sprain happened, you were at about eighty percent of your strength and mobility. You still need several weeks of therapy before I'll be able to clear you to return to the gymnastics activities on the field."

  "I don't like that answer. And Ray's not going to like that answer. I need to be able to give him a positive update." Desperation sped through him. "There's still a chance I could go back early, right? If everything heals and progresses by the book?"

  Andy sighed. "Yes. There is a chance."

  "Then, you'll back me up if I say things are moving in the right direction?"

  "I won't lie to Ray, but yes, I can report that things were moving well, that you had a minor setback today, but I expect that you'll be well on your way to fully functioning soon."

  "Thanks, Andy. I owe you."

  "You can repay me by listening to my advice. I want to see you back on that field just as badly as you want to be there."

  He nodded. "I'll listen. Don't worry. See you in a few days."

  “I’ll text you a copy of my instructions. I know it’s a lot to take in. See you in a few days.”

  Annoyed with the crutches and carefully keeping his bad ankle off the ground, Liam maneuvered into the golf cart and drove to his office. Claire wouldn't have arrived yet. Thankful for the space and quiet to wrap his head around what had happened and make a plan for going forward, he unlocked the door.

  Still, as soon as he sat at his desk, he sent her a text checking in. He hadn't seen her since she'd come down with a stomach bug on Thursday. The team had been on a road trip since Wednesday, so she hadn't missed any games. Hopefully, she'd be feeling better for the next day's home game.

  A brisk knock pulled him away from his phone. He grabbed his crutches and hobbled to the door. Maybe Andy had somehow realized that Liam needed an ice pack.