Pop flies and practice swings ensued on the field.
She hadn’t thought to ask Blake what age group he coached, but the kids appeared to be around eight or nine. She stepped into the shade of the dugout.
At the other end of the small building, Blake knelt, facing away from her, in front of a boy with a pouty lip gripping his bat and glove in one hand. Her gaze traveled across the boy’s small chest to where a glimpse of flesh peeked from beneath his sleeve.
“Don’t get down, buddy. You can do this.” Blake’s warm tenor filled the small space. “You’re just as good a player as they are. Even more so with what you have to overcome. Your batting average is spot on. We can’t win this tournament without you.”
The boy gave Blake an unsteady smile. Then his brown eyes drifted over Blake’s head and fixed on Olivia. Blake swiveled to see what had caught the boy’s attention, and then he rose to his feet.
Scooby padded over and pressed his wet nose on Olivia’s hand.
“You head on out there.” Blake slapped the boy’s shoulder. “We’ll talk later.”
The kid avoided further eye contact as he hurried past her to the field.
“Sorry to interrupt your pep talk.”
Blake shrugged. “No worries. Have you seen Olivia?”
She cocked her head.
“Baggy T-shirt, ratty cut-offs, beat-up hat. Did you mug an unsuspecting hobo on your way?”
“Very funny. I almost didn’t recognize you either without your flannel.”
He rubbed a palm over his dry-fit T-shirt, flattening it to his carved chest and abs. “You don’t approve?”
Air turned to dust in her lungs. Oh, she approved all right. She coughed to distract him from seeing the extent of her approval at the way his shirt clung to his rather nice form.
“You OK?” He held out his sports drink.
“Fine.” She uncapped her water and took a sip. “Thanks, though. The dust rolling off home base choked me up.” So did the way her body reacted to him every time they were together.
He pressed a hand to her back and rubbed. “Ready to play some ball?”
Olivia nearly jumped out of her skin. “Yep. Let’s do this.”
Blake walked Scooby over to Grandma and commanded the canine to stay by pressing down his palm. The dog flopped down and laid his head in Grandma’s lap. From the other side of the fence, Olivia could hear Grandma cooing.
Blake put his thumb and forefinger between his lips and whistled, then motioned the players into a huddle. “This is Olivia Hudson. She’s my assistant tonight. Now—”
“Coach,” a husky-sized boy interrupted. He glanced at Olivia then leaned into Blake. “She’s a girl,” he whispered.
“Yes, she is.”
“But you said that girls—”
“Never mind what I said.” Blake clapped his hands once, his face tinging pink. “We’re gonna split up into two teams and play a five inning game. With the adults included, we’ll have enough players. I’ll give you each a number. Ones are on my team, twos are on Livi’s team. Any questions?”
She’d always hated being called that by anyone other than her parents. Blake’s use of the nickname, however, didn’t bother her so much.
Blake split the group and claimed the outfield.
Olivia’s team moped all the way to the dugout. Poor kids. Nothing like getting stuck with a girl coach who knew little about baseball. No one said a word as they donned helmets and grabbed bats.
“I’ll do my best not to let you down. I’m very competitive, and I used to play softball.” In third grade, the year she’d discovered she wasn’t athletic in the least, but they didn’t need the details.
A few shoulders perked up.
“Think of how fun it’ll be to rub it in their faces when we win.” She was smack-talking big dreams now. Olivia stretched out her hand and waited. The boys looked at one another. None of them wanted to be the first to join the pact. They probably thought she had cooties.
Finally, number five gave in and inched his hand toward hers—hovering but not touching—then the rest followed.
Olivia held up her hand to high-five the first boy up to bat.
He tugged on his earlobe. “Uh…people don’t do that anymore.” He created a fist and bumped it off hers. “Fist bump instead.”
She was officially uncool. “Got it.”
The kid took a couple of practice swings then stepped inside the box. Blake pitched. The boy didn’t move. Too high.
“Good eye, kid.” She leaned against the fence.
Another pitch. Too low.
Olivia cupped her hands around her mouth. “We want a pitcher…” Her team finished the chant for her.
“OK, OK.” Blake slapped his mitt with the ball and fired again.
Crack! The ball soared through the air. Number twelve sprinted to first base while the team cheered.
The next three innings passed with each team scoring, keeping the game neck and neck.
Olivia checked on Grandma periodically. With the shade of the roof over the bleachers and Scooby’s company, Grandma seemed to be enjoying the game.
Blake called for a break and sent the kids to the water jug.
Olivia rested on the bench and chugged the rest of her water, then started on a sports drink Blake passed to her.
“Tired, city girl?” Blake dropped onto the bench beside her. Legs outstretched, he rested his head against the concrete wall.
“Me? I could go for days.”
He chuckled. “Maybe you should start coaching then.”
“After we win this game, they’ll be begging me to.”
“Are you trash talking?”
“The teams are tied, you know.”
He tipped his cup and chugged the last of his water. “Pride goes before a fall.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I refuse to let you win. For their sake.”
“Care to make a wager then?”
“Depends on what you have in mind. I’m not shaving my head or eating anything weird.”
A bead of sweat trailed down his unshaven cheek. He twisted his hat backwards and shifted. She couldn’t help but notice his long legs. His nylon pants fit him oh, so perfectly. The heat of his body infused with the scent of soap and sweat clung to his skin. “If you win, I’ll let you fan me with a palm leaf and feed me grapes.”
“Ha! That’s fair.”
“I think so.” He leaned closer. “How about I feed you grapes, then.”
She hit his knee with hers. “No thanks.”
“Your call, then.”
Olivia gave the matter some thought. “My grandpa was a photographer. Not long after I moved here I found a photo journal he’d made Grandma. It starts with pictures of them while dating and goes through most of their marriage. I don’t know much about their history and thought it’d be nice to find those places, tell Grandma the stories behind them according to what I know from the journal, and see if it jogs any of her memories. If I win, you help me go through the journal and mark those places on a map so I can take her.”
Blake stared at her hand splayed on the bench. His own twitched as if wanting to entwine their fingers. “Deal.”
That was too easy. “If you win?” Oh, those eyes. The message they spoke made her heart race.
“Eat dinner with me Saturday. I’d like a chance to better know you, Olivia.”
Her chest squeezed. “Like a date?”
“You don’t have to call it that if it scares you. We can talk about dessert and blueberries and call it a business meeting if you want. Write it off on taxes.” He nudged her elbow with his.
She wanted to agree, but her tongue wouldn’t utter the word. They just stared at each other while she battled the anxiety that kept her life from moving forward. She was tired of being idle.
“You don’t have to worry about following through,” he said. “Your team’s a shoe-in anyway, right?”
The smile lines around his eyes had relaxed into something muc
h like disappointment. She couldn’t do that to him. Not after he’d rescued Grandma from a storm, endured her insults, befriended her when she wasn’t friendly, and constantly found ways to help her out and make sure she fit in.
Above all, something about Blake Hartford awakened a part of her she thought she’d lost forever. Belonging.
She drank the rest of the purple liquid to loosen up her vocal chords. “Deal.”
Blake took her offered hand. Shook it. Caressed her wrist with his fingertips. Despite the heat and sweat, she shivered.
“Coach?” Two boys were taking in the spectacle, their fingers wrapped around the chain-link fence.
Blake released her. “We’re coming. Take your bases.”
Blake followed the boys from the dugout, only to return a moment later. “By the way, I’m partial to the green grapes.”
He tapped the fence twice and then jogged to the pitcher’s mound.
She would not let her mind go there.
Bats hung on a rack beside the exit. Olivia examined them, testing a few to see if any were heavier than the one she’d used last. She needed to win this game. For her heart’s sake.
18
Blake stepped onto the pitcher’s mound feeling as if he’d climbed a mountain. He’d finally broken through Olivia’s defenses. Their mutual attraction was evident, and she was slowly giving in to it.
He glanced at Mrs. Hudson, who was standing at the fence, watching.
Olivia swung the bat twice and then stepped up to home plate. She hunkered down, elbow up, one eye half-closed. The tough act was a ruse, but she sure looked cute.
Blake curved his fingers around the dusty, worn cowhide until his knuckles turned white. He could let her win. He should let her win. To erase the anxiety on her face.
What would be the fun in that?
He fired the ball toward home plate.
Olivia swung. Missed.
“Strike one!” Buddy yelled and sailed the ball back to Blake.
Olivia’s lips twisted in a pout. She tapped the bat against the plate and regained her stance.
He pitched again.
“Strike two!”
Blake opened his mitt for the incoming ball. “I think we’ve got a whiffle-bat somewhere, if that’d work better for you.”
Olivia yanked off her hat and sailed it like a Frisbee toward the dugout. Placing the bat between her knees, she tightened the band on her ponytail. “Try again, hot shot.”
She glared.
He pulled back, contracting every muscle in his upper body, and threw the heat, confident he’d have a date tomorrow night.
Crack!
The ball soared above him. He jumped, mitt open, and missed. Olivia pumped her arms and legs, tagging first base and angling to second.
“Come on, boys, get it in!” Blake yelled.
As she rounded second base, the ball returned from the outfield. He ran at it, arresting the ball in the hollow of his glove. He went to throw it but stopped. Where was the baseman?
Blake raced toward her, glove out. She saw him coming, squealed, and ran faster. He lunged. She dodged. Blake regained his footing and tried again. Her foot slipped on dirt, rammed into his, and they both tripped in a tangle of legs.
Pain split Blake’s forehead as the ground rose to meet him. A few seconds later, when the stun of impact had settled, Blake became aware of the soft body beneath his. He lifted the bulk of his weight. “Livi, are you OK?”
Nothing. Her closed eyelids didn’t even flutter.
“Livi?” Oh, God, let her be all right.
She groaned. Blake eased his hand behind her head to cushion her skull, praying he wouldn’t find a pool of sticky blood.
“Livi, can you hear me?” No blood. “Does anything hurt?”
Her eyelids peeled open. It took a moment for the fog in them to clear. “I win.”
Laughter, laced with relief, bubbled out of him. He kissed the red knot on her forehead before he realized what he’d done. She seemed oblivious, no doubt her world still spinning. Every nerve in his body took notice, however, as he became achingly aware of her curvy hip pressed against his leg. Instinctively, his fingers curled around the back of her head, gently tangling in her soft hair. She held him in a trance he never wanted to escape. His attention honed on her full, pink lips. Shadows covered them, breaking his concentration.
“Coach, is she dead?”
Oh, yeah. They were in the middle of a game. “No. She’s fine.”
Stuffing down his disappointment at having company, Blake eased himself up and helped Olivia to her feet.
She took a deep breath, her hand covering the angry red circle on her head, and swayed. “Did we win?”
Blake steadied her. He didn’t have the heart to tell her he’d tagged her out. Not when she was trying to be brave. While she focused on the boys standing around her, he rolled the ball through the grass behind her. “You won.”
The boys on her team started cheering. A few from his team rebuffed. “Sorry I let you down, guys.”
They stomped toward the dugout, verbally replaying the event, trying to find proof the other team had lost.
Blake turned his attention back to Olivia. “No breaks? How’s your stomach, ribs?”
“I’m fine. Really. Tomorrow will be a different story.”
He snaked an arm around her waist and walked her to the dugout. After a short celebration with cookies provided by Bobby’s mom, everyone collected their gear and cleared the dugout. Olivia fist-bumped the players, who agreed she could practice with them anytime.
After informing the parents about the next practice, Blake hoisted his bat bag on his shoulder and picked up the bucket of balls. Olivia offered to carry the empty water jug. They walked toward the bleachers on the other side of the dugout. The lump near her hairline was quarter-sized and angry. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”
“It was an accident.” Her gaze flickered up to the spot where his head had hit hers and she pointed to the lump above his left eye. “You’re heavier than a grand piano.”
“I can’t carry a tune, though.” He reached out and removed the bottom half of her ponytail that had stuck under the collar of her shirt.
She frowned at him. Then she gave a little sigh and leaned into his side. After making sure he hadn’t hit his head harder than he’d thought, Blake slipped his arm around her back and pulled her close.
Halfway to the bleachers, she froze and pointed to the empty seats. “She’s gone.”
A small cooler sat on the ground beside a paperback. “Is that your stuff?”
Olivia nodded. “She was just here a few minutes ago.”
“Maybe she went to the restroom. Or the car. Check there. I’ll bring your things.”
She took off at a jog the other direction. He maneuvered the items to make them easier to carry and hurried to the parking lot. He met her at her car.
“I can’t find her. Or Scooby.”
“If Scooby’s with her, she’ll be fine. We’ll find her.” He put the cooler and book in her backseat, then dumped his equipment in the bed of his truck. They asked the few remaining parents in the parking lot if they’d seen any sign of her.
Bobby’s dad, Mike, asked what Mrs. Hudson had been wearing.
Olivia closed her eyes, thinking. “Um, khaki-colored linen pants and a white blouse.”
Mike palmed his keys and moved toward his car. “Bobby, get in.” He turned back to Blake. “We’ll search the roads and let you know if we find her.”
“Thanks, Mike.” Blake turned, searching the area for clues. Where should they start?
He yelled for Scooby in hopes the dog would appear.
Olivia raced to the tree line.
Blake caught up to her.
She swiped tears from her eyes. “Where did she go? I have to find her.”
He tugged her to a stop. Cupping her face in both hands, he leaned down until they were at eye level. “We’ll find her. I promise.”
19
/> Where could Grandma have gone? She’d disappeared so quickly. Or had she?
Olivia had noticed Grandma’s fidgeting but the game had been almost over. Then she’d hit her head and…Olivia hadn’t paid attention after that. Between the buzzing in her head and the buzzing her body had started with Blake pressed against her, she’d been too distracted. “Grandma?” Olivia yelled as she rounded the side of the school.
She blew a long, shaky breath. Between the bakery, juggling the finances, the town project, counseling an elderly couple, and Blake, tracking Grandma’s every move was getting harder each day. Olivia needed to give up some things. She didn’t want Blake to be one of them, but anything more than friendship—and even that, at times—wasn’t feasible right now.
Her heartbeat pounded in her ears. Why was reaching the shore of her dreams like paddling across the Atlantic in a rowboat during a hurricane?
Blake sprinted past her up the school steps and yanked on the doors. Locked.
Grandma could be anywhere by now. Please, Lord, let us find her safe and unharmed. Olivia looked to the sky, surprised she’d uttered a full prayer after months of trying and failing.
“Come on.” Blake grabbed her hand and they raced to the edge of the school property where a dirt path veered to the left into the trees.
A wadded tissue on the dirt caught her eye. Grandma had asked for a tissue when they’d pulled into the ball field’s lot. Olivia jerked Blake to a stop. “I think she’s this way.”
They may be trailing a dead end, but it was worth a try.
Sweat dripped down the sides of her face, creating a cocktail of dust and grime that suffocated the pores of her skin.
A dog barked.
Blake and Olivia looked at each other and then sprinted toward the sound. Grandma’s white shirt winked from behind a copse of trees. Olivia’s body emptied a flash flood of adrenaline, causing her legs to nearly collapse.
Scooby trudged from Grandma’s side over to Blake, ready to be rewarded for keeping his new friend safe. However, Grandma’s hollow gray eyes and tear-stained cheeks confessed her compromised mental state.
How to Stir a Baker's Heart Page 11