Joe Scalotta was a womanizer and a… a… She struggled to think of a single term to encompass all she’d read about him. A party animal. That was what he was.
Or at least that was what all the papers had said he was years ago.
Was he a womanizer? Evie chuckled. She’d know about any lingering tendencies if he chose to play the field in Oak Grove. There would be a full report at the Dairy Queen within a day of his first conquest.
Party animal? Evie shook her head. Not in Oak Grove. To find a decent bar he’d have to drive to Cedar City—and make sure it wasn’t Sunday, when the whole town went dry.
If Joe Scalotta wanted to be Wildman, he’d come to the wrong side of the Mississippi.
To be honest, he made every appearance of mending his ways. Still, something about the man rubbed Evie wrong. Thus far he had been a bit of a chauvinist. She didn’t like that, but as an offense it was relatively minor. Most likely, her exasperation with him was due to her own annoying response to his large, toned body and his icy eyes, which seemed to stare right into her brain, and
“Hey, Coach.”
And the deep, somewhat raspy voice, which sent shivers down her spine.
“Coach?” she repeated.
The word came out sounding breathless, a little sexy, as if she were oh, so excited to see him. His light-blue eyes darkened to turquoise when they lit upon her face. Suddenly she was breathless, and it wasn’t because the bag of bats she’d lugged with both hands from the car to the diamond weighed about twenty pounds. Joe Scalotta, irritating as he was, could take her breath away with a mere look.
“Isn’t ‘Coach’ what they call you?” he asked, single-handedly lifting the heavy bag of bats.
With a shrug, Evie let him. “I guess. If they aren’t calling me ‘Mrs. Vaughn’ or ‘Adam, Danny and Benji’s mom.’ I answer to just about anything.”
“Except ‘sweetheart’.”
She peered at him from beneath the bill of her baseball hat. “A woman’s gotta have limits.”
*
Chapter Six
“Say, aren’t you Iceman Scalotta?”
Joe sighed, plastered a PR smile on his face and greeted the tenth person who had asked him that in the past hour. What he really wanted was to watch his little girl make her pitching debut. But so far Coach Mom hadn’t put Toni into the game.
“Can I have your autograph?”
“Sure.” Joe reached for the pen and paper the man held out.
“It’s for my boy,” the guy said. “Andy. He’s one of your biggest fans. Me, too. I didn’t believe it when I heard you were actually living in Oak Grove. What for?”
Joe finished scribbling his name. As a kid he’d often practiced giving autographs. Now, after the eight-thousandth time he’d signed his name to paper, football, shirt or poster, he wondered why he’d ever thought it would be fun. He liked talking with people usually, but the signature thing got old fast.
He handed the autograph to the man, flicked his gaze toward the game and shrugged. “Why not here? It’s a nice town.”
“Sure. Nice but boring. Nothing ever happens in Oak Grove. What about New York? L.A.? Heck, even Chicago is better than here.”
“Ever visited any of those places?”
“No, but I’d sure love to.”
“No, you wouldn’t. Too many people. Too many cars. Smells like…” Joe thought a minute. “Like burned-up rubber tires and month-old bananas. And loud, so loud your ears hurt.”
“Sounds exciting to me.”
Joe grunted. “To each his own, I guess.”
“Yeah.”
The guy looked puzzled, and Joe couldn’t blame him. You always wanted what you didn’t have. He’d been the same way as a kid. Couldn’t wait to get out of Missouri. Then he’d lived the express version of “If it’s Tuesday, it must be Philadelphia” and Missouri had started to look pretty darn good—as good as Oak Grove did right now. He already loved this place.
“Well, thanks for the autograph,” the guy said. “See ya ‘round.”
“I’ll be here.”
Joe returned his attention to the game, just in time to see his daughter take the mound.
Toni swallowed, but the lump in her throat didn’t move. She hadn’t been this nervous since the championship game last year. Why would taking the mound in the first game of a new season, when her team was up 3-2 in the bottom of the ninth, make her so nervous?
She focused on home plate and saw her problem—Adam Vaughn. Toni had never cared what a boy thought of her as a girl—until now. Boys had been her teammates, her buddies, her pals. But this season, something was different. Was the difference in her? Or in the boy behind the mask?
Toni threw a warm-up pitch, hard and wild. Adam let the ball go by, since there was no batter to worry about. But before he went to chase it, he lifted his mask and frowned in her direction.
Toni’s fair skin went hot. She wanted to crawl into a hole and stay there. Why on earth had she asked to play ball in this town? Why had she ever started in the first place?
Her mother had gone ballistic when she’d first discovered Toni spent her spare time playing sandlot baseball. But Toni loved the game, and she was good. Since she was good at very little, according to her mother, Toni had stuck to her guns with baseball, even when her mom had ranted and raved about Toni’s tomboy tendencies. Mom had gone so far as to say that Toni was trying to get her father’s attention through sports. By winning games, she thought she could win Daddy’s love. She also said Toni could never win enough to make that happen. Toni was a girl, and Joe just wasn’t interested.
Because her father saw her rarely, and when he did he was so stiff and uncomfortable it was painful to watch, Toni half believed her mother was right—and it had hurt. But she kept playing. Though she might not be able to win her dad’s love, she could feel good about herself whenever she won a game.
Adam brought the ball back to the mound, rather than throwing it. Toni held her breath as he approached. He was so cute. Dark hair, dark eyes, tall and lightly muscled. Not big like Joe, but toned.
“You okay?” he asked.
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. He’d been really nice to her, but she wasn’t going to make the mistake of thinking he liked her or anything. He was the most popular guy in town. She could tell from the way kids called “hello” and the way the girls sitting on the home-team bleachers whispered, pointed and scowled in her direction.
“Toni?”
Adam bent at the knees so he could look into her face. She tried a smile, but the attempt no doubt appeared as stiff as it felt. Adam shook his head and put a hand on her shoulder. “Calm down. It’s the first game.”
She could feel the warmth of his hand through her team jersey and resisted the urge to step closer. The whole town was watching—or at least it seemed so.
“No big deal.” He dropped his hand, and she could think straight again.
“You want to tell that to your mom?”
“My mom? What does she have to do with this?”
“She’s the coach.”
He laughed. “Yeah, so?”
“She’ll yell if I screw up.”
“She will?”
“Won’t she?”
“Did your coach in Chicago yell at you?”
Adam seemed mad. Toni didn’t know if he was mad at her, or what. She stared at the ground and squashed a clump of dirt with her spikes. “If I screwed up, yeah. He yelled at everyone.” She didn’t mention that when her coach yelled at her, she’d wanted to cry. She hadn’t, but she’d wanted to. “My coach liked to win.”
Adam made an exasperated sound. “I’ve never seen my mom yell yet. At a player, anyway—”
Toni glanced up in time to catch his wink.
“The twins are another story. She does like to win. Who doesn’t? But she likes to teach kids even more.” Adam held out the ball.
“Really?” Toni asked.
The ball dropped into her glove.
“Really.”
They smiled at each other, and suddenly Toni felt just fine.
Toni pitched well and got the save. Joe was a nervous wreck by the time the game was done.
When Toni walked a batter, some bozo shouted, “Take out the girlie-girl.” Joe had been on his way to rearrange the guy’s world, when he caught Evie’s glare.
He hesitated, and she turned to the bozo. “Put a sock in it, Randy. You know the rules.”
“…Watch nice or go home!”
“…Be an adult or at least pretend!”
“…Set an example or get out of town!”
The admonitions came from different sections of the bleachers, both home and away. Randy did put a sock in it, and the rest of the inning passed without incident.
Evie seemed to have control over more than her team. Joe had to admit he was impressed, and a bit embarrassed that his first instinct was toward violence. How would his behavior have looked to Toni?
He wasn’t used to worrying about how he behaved all the time, but he’d better start. He had his first T-ball game in less than twenty-four hours.
Toni ran up and threw her arms around his waist. “I did it, Joe!”
The joy on her face made his heart turn over. The spontaneous hug caused him to think that perhaps they were starting to break through the stiffness that had always existed between them. He wanted very badly to be the kind of dad she needed, if he only knew how.
“You sure did. I haven’t seen anyone pitch that well in years.”
She grinned and danced out of his arms. Joe dropped his hands, which suddenly felt empty, and watched as Adam approached. Toni’s face changed, and Joe had the urge to grab Adam by the throat and tell him what would happen if he so much as put a finger on any part of Toni’s anatomy.
“Is it okay if I go have ice cream with the guys? Adam will drive me home.”
He wanted to shout, No, you’re too young! Instead, he nodded. “Be home by eleven.”
Joe’s eyes met Adam’s over Toni’s head, and he gave the kid his Iceman stare. Adam Vaughn, like his mother, didn’t even flinch.
Joe hated to admit it, but he was nervous about a peewee T-ball game. He’d arrived half an hour early, just in case one of the kids needed him. He’d ended up sitting alone on the bench and thinking.
He’d had several practices with the kids, and they’d improved immensely from the chaos that had reigned the first time he’d seen them. But at the end of every practice, Joe was exhausted. They ran; they jumped; they fell. They talked and talked. The questions made his head spin.
“Coach Joe, why are you so big?”
“Coach Joe, why is your hair white?”
“Coach Joe, my daddy says you’re famous. What’s ‘famous’?”
“Coach Joe, my mommy says you’re a stud muffin. Is that better than blueberry?”
The last had come from a boy whose mother made no secret she was divorced and in search of contestant number two. Joe wanted to date, and he wanted to get married again, but frankly, that woman scared him to death. She was pretty enough—if you liked tight jeans, high heels at the ballpark and big hair. But she had the look of a hungry panther on the prowl. Joe had no desire to be the monkey feast in her sights.
No, what he wanted was a nice, normal, wifely woman. Whatever that was.
The sound of a slamming car door brought Joe’s attention back to his little slice of Iowa. He glanced at the parking lot and was treated to a view of Evie Vaughn. She definitely did not meet his requirements, but she sure was nice to look at.
What was it about her that appealed to him? She was petite—a type he’d never been attracted to. A guy of his size had no business with a woman he could break if he wasn’t very careful. She was abrasive at times—maybe only with him—but still abrasive. Then there was her overabundance of jobs. And her son, who had the hots for his baby.
Joe sighed. As he watched Evie walk, confident, light on her feet, as if ready for anything—and with those twins, she probably was—he found himself wondering if she would taste as good as she looked.
Yep, he was definitely losing his mind.
The twins barreled past, hooting and hollering. She didn’t even flinch when they careered into her. Joe had to smile. The more he saw Evie the more he thought she was good at the mom thing. And he liked the twins. They kind of grew on you—like a fungus that wouldn’t let go.
They hit him at the knees, one attached to each leg. “Hey, Coach Joe!”
“Hey, Benji. Hey, Danny.” He had no idea which was which. He usually addressed them both at the same time until he could figure out who was wearing the red shirt or the blue cap.
Joe took in the identical faces framed by identical caps, identical uniforms covering identically sized bodies, and he rubbed his eyes. When he lowered his hands, the double vision remained the same.
He didn’t want them to know he had no idea who was who. That would be asking for trouble he didn’t need. “Go out and warm up,” he ordered, and they released him to run onto the field. He greeted Evie. Perhaps he could catch a clue from their mother.
She shielded her eyes from the sun at his back and peered into his face. “Ready for the first game?”
“Sure.” He didn’t sound sure, even to his own ears, and when she laughed, he knew he hadn’t fooled her, either.
“Calm down.” She dropped her hand. “This is T-ball. The only fans in the stands will be the parents, and they just want their kids to have fun and learn a little.”
“They don’t want to win?”
“In T-ball?” She stared at him as if he’d said Martians were going to play football against the Minnesota Vikings. “We don’t worry about winning at that age.”
Joe sighed with relief. Though he’d been competitive all his life and winning had been his business, the more he worked with little kids, the more ridiculous the old ideas of winning and losing and being perfect seemed.
“Good,” he said.
“That’s okay with you?” Her voice reflected surprise at his attitude, which annoyed him.
“Are you here as a parent, or my boss?”
She tilted her head, studying him. “Both. Though I’m not really your boss. It’s not like you get paid or anything.”
“But you can fire me.”
She grinned. “There is that.”
He pointed to the twins. “They like to play.”
“They like to do what their brother does.”
He slid a glance in her direction. “And where is their brother?”
“At the batting cage, practicing.”
“He’s that serious about baseball?”
“Weren’t you that serious about football?”
“I guess I was. You think he has a chance to go pro?”
“How many kids go pro?”
“Not very many.”
“Right. Especially from a town like Oak Grove. Hard to get noticed unless you win championships, and that doesn’t happen here very often.”
“Until now?”
“That’s what I’m aiming for.”
“Serious aim you have.”
“I always do.”
“I don’t want Toni terrorized for Little League.”
“It’s Big League, and do I look like a woman to strike terror into the hearts of children?”
He eyed her for a long moment, considering. Finally he admitted the truth. “I don’t know.”
Her lips tightened. “I guess you’ll find out.”
“Hmm.”
Evie had said they didn’t worry about winning in T-ball. But T-ball and Big League were two different things. Joe recalled how Toni had looked every time her mother criticized her. He didn’t want her upset because this woman had an agenda. Still, yesterday when someone had yelled at Toni, Evie had put her foot down. He’d wait and see what happened when Toni lost a game. If Evie didn’t behave like a lady, Toni’s pitching days were history.
“So which one is which?” He pointed at the
twins again.
Her lips twitched. “You don’t know?”
“I can usually figure it out by the middle of a practice, then I keep them straight by who’s wearing what. But now…” He shrugged helplessly.
“You realize they’ll switch on you, just for fun?”
“They do that a lot?”
“Not to me.”
“I guess it doesn’t really matter.”
“No?”
“So they switch and one plays outfield and the other plays infield. If they’re happy, I’m happy.”
“That’s the kind of attitude I like to hear in a coach.”
“I live to please,” he said sarcastically.
She raised her eyebrow. “That’s the kind of attitude I like to hear in a man.”
Evie sauntered off before he could say anything more. Joe just enjoyed the view.
Evie sat at the top of the bleachers and watched in dismay as the stands around the T-ball diamonds filled with spectators.
What was going on? Even if every kid brought parents, siblings, grandparents, aunts and uncles, that didn’t explain all these people.
Joe looked up at her for the fifth time and lifted his hands in supplication. Another person asked him for an autograph, and he turned away to comply.
Evie admitted the truth she’d suspected for the past twenty minutes. All these people had come to see Joe.
Something had to be done, and she was the one who would have to do it. Evie jumped down from the bleachers and strode toward the field.
The middle school kid who had drawn this game to umpire stared into the stands with a white, still face. Evie put her hand on his shoulder, and he jumped.
“Relax,” she said. “It’s just a game like any other game.” He didn’t appear convinced. “Go on,” Evie urged. “Start. They’re here to watch Scalotta anyway. They won’t pay attention to you.”
He swallowed, and the movement made his Adam’s apple seem even more prominent than it was. Poor kid.
“Play ball,” he shouted, and his voice cracked in the middle.
Evie observed for a while, sighing with relief as the game went on without incident. The kids were enjoying the increased attention rather than being intimidated by it. Luckily, this had happened at the T-ball game and not the AA League. First graders liked to be watched. Middle school kids did not
Out of Her League Page 6