Love After Hours

by Radclyffe

She was falling away before she’d even registered the sound of the bat contacting the ball. She hit the ground on her left side, her cheek landing in the dirt at the edge of the pitcher’s mound. She heard people yelling, a few cursing. She rolled onto her back, opened her eyes, and decided that all of her parts were in working order. She held her glove up into the air and smiled at the ball set firmly in the web.

  The angry protests from her teammates turned to cheers, and she slowly got to her feet, wiping the dirt from her face against her sleeve. Harper ran out to her.

  “You okay?”

  “I’m good.”

  “That moron put it right at your head,” Harper said, glancing over her shoulder at the Houlihan’s pitcher, who tossed his bat onto the ground and stalked back to the Houlihan’s bench.

  “It happens,” Carrie said.

  “Yeah, but it shouldn’t.”

  “Hey, we won,” Carrie said, smiling. “So no harm, no foul.”

  Joe jogged over from center field as the rest of the team crowded around, congratulating her and each other. “Man, that looked like a rocket. I can’t believe you got your glove on that.”

  “Instinct,” Carrie said. “Really, I didn’t even see it coming.”

  “That guy is a dick,” Joe muttered.

  “Won’t argue.” Carrie dusted herself off as they all headed for the bench. Everyone in the stands was on their feet too, and she couldn’t see Gina. Realizing she was searching for her, she quickly looked away.

  Harper called, “Everybody up for pizza and beer?”

  “Sounds good to me,” Carrie said, riding high from the victory. That had to explain the way her whole system seemed to buzz with anticipation.

  Mari jumped down from the bleachers and ran over. “Hey! That was an amazing game. Are you okay? You fell awfully hard.”

  “I’m fine,” Carrie said for what felt like the hundredth time. “I’m great.”

  Mari gripped her chin and turned her face, frowning. “You’re going to have a bruise on your cheek. I don’t see any break in the skin, though. You were lucky. If that had hit you…”

  Carrie threaded her arm around Mari’s waist. She hadn’t even known about her cousin until a short time before, when Mari joined the ER as a PA. Now she was as close to Mari as to her own sisters. “Don’t worry. I’ve got good reflexes.”

  “That much is obvious.”

  “How’s Glenn?” Carrie asked quietly.

  Mari looked over to where Glenn sat on the bench, methodically and quietly packing up her gear like the soldier she still was, inside. “According to her, she’s never been better. Her knee is bothering her a little bit in the morning, but I think that’s just temporary stiffness. No postconcussive symptoms, thankfully.”

  “Good,” Carrie said. “Are you going out with us?”

  “Not tonight. Glenn has the night shift, so we’re going to head home for a few hours before she has to go in.”

  “Okay. I’ll catch up to you soon, then.”

  “Don’t forget, we have to start in on our next wedding planning.”

  “How could I forget!” Carrie shook her head. Flann and Abby were just waiting until Blake was recovered from his surgery before they set a date, but it was never too soon—in fact, it was already too late in the game—to start serious planning. They were going to have to do a lot on the fly. “This weekend, right?”

  “Uh-huh. I’ll confirm with Abby and Presley.” Mari was a natural organizer and, now that she had settled in at the hospital and with Glenn, was rapidly becoming the moving force of their social gatherings. She’d left her family behind in California, and she was making a new one here.

  “I’ll be there.” Waving as Mari hurried off to join Glenn, Carrie turned and almost bumped into Gina Antonelli. “Oh. Hi.”

  She mentally rolled her eyes. That was brilliant.

  “Nice game,” Gina said.

  “Thanks.”

  “Sweet catch there at the end.” Gina glanced over at the Houlihan’s bench where some of the team still remained. Her expression darkened as she scanned the bruise on Carrie’s cheek. “You okay?”

  “It’s a little sore,” Carrie admitted. “But hey, the ball didn’t hit me, so I’m not complaining.”

  “Yeah, I could see you’d been there before. You pitched the pants off them. Where’d you play?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “College, I’m guessing Division I. Notre Dame?”

  “Please,” Carrie said, feigning disdain.

  “No,” Gina mused. “Too conventional. Somewhere a little more free-spirited, but hard-core competitive.”

  Carrie laughed. “Right.”

  “Stanford,” Gina said as if it were truth.

  Which it was. Carrie bent down to stick her mitt in her bag and give herself time to figure out exactly how she was going to handle this. Gina had been watching her. Really watching her, if she could tell that much about her from one game, and Carrie wasn’t sure how she felt about that. She wasn’t used to being read quite so effortlessly, and to make it worse, Gina was not only hard to read but irritatingly attractive. Carrie straightened, her duffel in her hand. “You’re right about the school. But don’t be so sure about the rest.”

  Gina grinned. “What rest?”

  “Never mind,” Carrie said abruptly. Whenever the two of them talked, she ended up not being sure just what they were talking about, and that was beyond annoying. “I’ve got to get going. Hope you enjoyed the game.”

  Lame, lame, and lamer. Carrie hurried away before she could come up with anything more lame.

  “So you’ll call me?” Gina called.

  Carrie flushed and turned. “Sorry?”

  Gina grinned. “About the permits. You’re working on them, right?”

  Carrie narrowed her eyes. So that’s what all the friendliness was about. Antonelli obviously didn’t care about anything except work, and her charm routine was just a way of getting a foot in the door. Not that she was in the least bit charming. “You’ll hear from me when I have something to tell you.”

  “Soon, right?” Gina smiled, watching Carrie’s shoulders stiffen and her stride lengthen. Why she should find a woman who was constantly irritated at her so mesmerizing she had no idea.

  “What’s going on?” Joe asked, sliding up next to her.

  Gina quickly smothered her smile. “Nothing.”

  “That’s the longest I’ve seen you talk to a woman in five years.”

  “Business,” Gina said, tracking Carrie out of the corner of her eye as she disappeared into the parking lot.

  “Is that what you call it.”

  Gina shot him a look. “She’s the CEO’s executive admin, did you know that?”

  Joe shrugged. “Sure, I knew she was management. It doesn’t matter much out here.”

  “Well, it matters plenty now. We’re stalled on the ER project until we get the permits, and she’s the gatekeeper.”

  “Ha. So you’re hoping your winning personality will speed things along?” Joe play-punched her in the arm “Because I gotta tell you, sis, that’s probably not gonna work out too well.”

  “Just building a little goodwill,” Gina said.

  She’d only intended to congratulate Carrie on the game when she’d climbed out of the bleachers, but that had turned into something else when their conversation had stirred the fire in Carrie’s eyes and brought a little bit of flush to her throat. She still felt some of the heat.

  “So where are you headed for beer?” Gina asked.

  “Why, you suddenly feeling friendly?” Joe asked.

  “Just thirsty,” Gina said softly.

  Chapter Eight

  Bottoms Up was already packed by the time Gina walked in. The one big room took up most of the first floor of a plain-faced red brick building. Two double windows on either side of the front door faced the street. The bar ran down one side with tables filling the rest of the space and a kitchen in the back. Two ceiling fans beat impoten
tly against the July night air, stirring a lackluster breeze smelling of yeast and cooked beef. The hazy half-light in the bar tinged everyone with a patina of silver, like barroom players in an old daguerreotype. About half of the Houlihan’s team had shown up, which was odd as their sponsors ran a tavern, but maybe this was the closest place to start nursing their wounds. Plus, plenty of townies played on Houlihan’s team, even if they were based ten miles up the road, and this was their regular hangout. Pretty much all of the Rivers team along with their fans had migrated over, and she picked out jerseys from two or three other teams as well. Joe waved to her from a row of square four-top tables that had been pushed together in the middle of the room, surrounded by a jumble of chairs and at least a dozen people. She shook her head and tilted her chin toward the bar. She wanted the excuse of grabbing a drink to give her a minute to get the lay of the land. She wasn’t quite ready to jump into the mash of Joe’s teammates right away.

  “What can I get ya?” The middle-aged bartender wore khaki pants and a T-shirt that read Ace Hardware.

  “Whatever dark you’ve got on draft.”

  “Coming up.”

  “Thanks.” She didn’t recognize him, and for a place like this in a town this small, that was unusual. The last time she’d been in, the owner, Frank Durkin, had been pulling the taps. Come to think of it, though, she hadn’t been in Bottoms Up or much of anywhere else for six months, maybe more now, and she might have gotten a little out of touch. Joe would say she was more than a little out of touch.

  She put a five down and collected her draft when the bartender slid it in front of her. After a long pull, she edged sideways to the bar so she could scan the faces at Joe’s table. She recognized most of them from the game, either players or spectators in the bleachers. The players were fairly evenly dispersed among men and women not in team garb—friends and intimates of one kind or another, she gathered. Seemed like everyone had a companion of some kind. Carrie sat at one corner of the row of tables nearest Gina, facing Joe with her back to the bar. A blonde Gina had noticed in the bleachers a few rows down from her sat on Carrie’s left. The Rivers’s coach, Harper Rivers, sat on the blonde’s far side.

  Gina watched and nursed her beer, trying to figure out if Carrie was with the blonde or if they were just friends. When Harper Rivers absently slid her fingers beneath the blonde’s hair and stroked the nape of her neck, Gina figured they were the couple. Carrie seemed to be by herself, although she appeared to be talking and laughing with everyone else at the table. She was popular, and Gina could see why—talented, smart, gorgeous—what wasn’t to like? For a newcomer, Carrie looked at home with everyone too—more at home than Gina felt, having lived in the area all her life.

  Joe ambled over and ordered refills for half the table. “You planning on joining us or being your usual antisocial self the rest of the night?”

  “Looks pretty crowded over there,” Gina said.

  He scoffed. “There’s always room for another chair.”

  “Is the brunette next to you your hot date?”

  Joe laughed. “Not hardly. Her husband is the big guy on her other side. I’m picking up my date when she gets off work at eleven.”

  “Another PA?”

  “OR nurse. Mattie Evans.”

  “I remember her,” Gina said. “She was a few years behind me. Played goalie for Corinth.”

  “Yep,” Joe said carefully, the way he always did when soccer came up.

  Gina let it go, easier than it used to be. Just as carefully she said, “Who’s the blonde sitting next to your pitcher?”

  Joe looked over his shoulder as if he needed to remind himself of who was at the table. He quirked an eyebrow at Gina. “That would be Presley Worth. She’s the big boss of the hospital now.”

  “Carrie’s boss?”

  “Well, Carrie’s and everybody else’s, I guess. Her company bought the place, and she’s in charge now.”

  “Yeah, I heard that. Dad negotiated contracts with her.”

  “With her and Abby Remy, the ER chief. My boss. Since the takeover the ER has some kind of independent deal going on with the hospital.” He shrugged. “I don’t pay too much attention as long as I’m getting training and a paycheck.”

  “So the CEO is the friend of your boss who needs the favor.” Gina shook her head. Just like Joe to try fixing everyone’s problems. She wouldn’t have minded if he hadn’t volunteered her for the same duty.

  “They’re more than friends. I guess you could say they’re kind of related, since Presley’s with Harper Rivers, and Abby is with Flannery. It’s a pretty tight unit.”

  Gina smiled wryly. “They don’t call the place the Rivers for nothing, I guess.”

  “Hey, they’ve kept the hospital going for a hundred years and are still looking after the place. And that’s what matters to all of us.”

  “I totally agree with you. And I’m happy to do my share.” She finished off her beer. “If somebody would just let me.”

  He signaled the bartender to get her another beer. Pushing the glass toward her, he said, “Here. I know two’s your limit, so at least come and drink this with us. Let the job go for the night. You’ll be out busting stone before you know it.”

  “Yeah,” she muttered, grabbing the beer. “I hope so.”

  She couldn’t not sit with them, not unless she wanted to appear outright unfriendly, so she followed him. She wasn’t even sure where her resistance to joining the group was coming from. Her social skills were kind of rusty, and most of the time when Joe invited her out, it was to some kind of party where by the end of the night most people had a little too much to drink and conversation had turned to more intimate pastimes. She wasn’t big on casual conversation with strangers, and she was not a one-night-stand kind of person. Not that she’d pick up a girl anywhere near where her brother could see her anyhow. It just wasn’t her scene. But she wasn’t so rusty she couldn’t make polite conversation.

  As she approached the table, Joe dragged a chair over from an adjacent table and wedged it in at the corner next to Carrie. Gina chose to think that was an accident. He couldn’t possibly know the only person at the table she really wanted to talk to was Carrie.

  *****

  Carrie turned to her right when someone sat down beside her. For a second, she was so surprised she didn’t say anything. She hadn’t seen Gina come in, and she was the last person she expected to see. Gina had materialized out of nowhere, and that seemed to be happening a lot.

  She’d never met the woman before that morning, and now every time she turned around, there she was. She wouldn’t have thought anything of it if it hadn’t been for her odd and alarming reaction. She could feel her pulse pounding in her throat, and the room was suddenly way too warm. And thank goodness the tavern was just barely light enough to see people’s expressions, because her face was heated and probably flaming. None of those reactions were under her control, and all of them were completely unusual for her. And she was staring, wasn’t she. She could tell by the little smirk on Gina’s face. At least she hoped that was the cause and Gina wasn’t actually reading the rest of what she was feeling. If she started telegraphing random, irrational lust, she’d need to take a long vacation somewhere far away.

  Gina was doing some staring of her own, as if waiting for Carrie to make the first move.

  “Hi,” Carrie said, and wasn’t that a great opening line.

  “Hi,” Gina said back in her husky, oh-so-casual way.

  Maybe it was the slightly foggy atmosphere clouding her brain, but Gina’s voice sounded distinctly smoky, even a little bit seductive. And there she went again, having the most alarming thoughts with absolutely no provocation.

  “I’ve never seen you in here before,” Carrie said, with yet another brilliant remark. Wow. What next? We can’t keep meeting like this?

  “What’s so funny?” Gina asked, grinning faintly.

  “I’m trying not to utter any more bad pickup lines.”

&n
bsp; “Are you picking someone up?”

  “No!” Carrie blew a wisp of hair from her eyes. “Of course not.”

  Gina considered teasing her a little more, but she didn’t want to push too far. She wanted to talk with her, not chase her away. “My brother keeps bugging me to come, but I haven’t had a good reason. Until now.”

  Carrie cursed her total lack of cool. Now the heat reached all the way to her hairline. Hello, beet-face. She’d hated her red hair and pale, slightly freckled complexion as a child, but as she’d gotten older, she’d begun to realize red hair was a distinguishing characteristic a lot of people—okay, a lot of women—seemed to like. Right this moment, she was back to wishing her skin was any other color than pale white because there was no way to hide a blush. And when had she ever been blushing and speechless in the presence of a sexy woman?

  Since that morning, apparently.

  Until now, Gina had said.

  “I’m going to take that remark as a non sequitur,” Carrie said.

  Gina laughed. “Let’s just say I’m happy my brother finally talked me into going to one of his games.”

  “Oh? You’re not usually a softball fan?”

  “No, just the opposite. I love softball.”

  “Do you play?” Carrie asked.

  “No,” Gina said, her expression, even in the dim light, darkening for an instant. “No, I don’t.”

  The conversations and laughter swirling around the table floated on the edge of Carrie’s awareness as she leaned closer. Gina’s eyes held all her attention. “Just a fan, then.”

  “Actually, I coach a team.”

  Carrie straightened. “You’re kidding. Who? What league?”

  Gina grinned. “We’re local. A’s Construction. Although most people in our league call us the Hammers.”

  Carrie’s eyes narrowed. Oh, this could so not be a coincidence. She’d never seen Gina at a game before—or anywhere else, and who with a pulse could miss her? “Now you’re kidding me, right?”

  “Honest truth.” Gina sipped her half-warm beer. “We’re not all carpenters, of course—some are pipefitt—”