Home Run

by Heidi McLaughlin

“Doubt it. You know she’s compassionate, or she wouldn’t work at a place like that. Plus, did you see her with the kids?”

  “Does your wife know you’re pregnant?” I ask Davenport, whose face turns bright red.

  “What the fuck are you talking about? Just because a man is in touch with his feminine side doesn’t make him a pussy.”

  I stifle a laugh, which only seems to piss him off even more. I couldn’t help it, the way he was going on about compassion and shit like that. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he’d wanted to ask Ainsley out on a date himself, but I’ve heard him talking to his wife. I can’t imagine ever talking to someone the way he does, but I think it’d be nice. He’s not mushy with her on the phone, but sweet and caring. I know he misses her, especially since they haven’t been married that long and now he’s away from her until April, unless she comes to visit. “I’m just giving you shit.”

  Davenport throws something white at me, smacking me in the face. I can only pray that it’s a towel and not someone’s dirty jockstrap. I bat it away but don’t look at what it was. Some things are better left unknown.

  “Seriously, though, call her. If there’s one thing I learned from dating Daisy, it’s don’t wait.”

  “She wasn’t interested.”

  Davenport stands, cinching his towel at his waist. “You asked for her number at her place of employment. I probably would’ve said no, too. You have her number, call her. The worst thing that is going to happen is she says no again. You don’t have anything to lose. Or you’re looking to get laid, go to the bar, tell them who you are, and you’re guaranteed to find a cleat-chaser.” He pats me on the shoulder and walks off toward the clubhouse. He’s right. I have nothing to lose by calling her, except my dignity if she tells me no again.

  After practice, instead of going into my apartment, I stay out in my car for some privacy. I’m worked up, my heart is pounding, and I’m afraid I’m going to make a fool of myself. If so, at least it’s done over the phone and not face-to-face.

  What I didn’t tell the guys is that I have her number memorized. I studied it until I could recite the digits written on the piece of paper. I even tucked the piece of paper into my wallet and made sure her name and number was stored in my contacts. All for a woman who told me no from the get-go. If that’s not desperation, I don’t know what is.

  My thumb hovers over her name, Ainsley Burke. She’s the first Ainsley I know. It’s unique and stands out, fitting for her. Shutting off my car so it doesn’t overheat and with the windows rolled down, I finally press the phone icon that will connect me to her, hopefully.

  Three rings and the line opens. Her voice, the same one that I remember so clearly in my head, says hello, and I sit here like a fucking moron.

  “Hello?” she says again, clearly irritated.

  “Uh…hi, hello.”

  “Who is this?”

  “It’s…uh.” I swallow hard and chastise myself for being an idiot. Just talk to her. I clear my throat and man up. “Sorry, it’s Cooper Bailey. Your co-worker gave me your number, which I know you didn’t want me to have, but—”

  “But she meddles in my life and business, and you’ve decided to call after two days.”

  “Yeah, something like that.”

  “The answer is still no.”

  And just like that, our conversation is over. She’s already turned me down, and I didn’t even ask her anything. I can play it off like a hurt puppy or I can be coy. I glance at myself in my rearview mirror and shake my head. I’ve never been afraid of a woman until now, but that shouldn’t stop me from pursuing her.

  “That’s good. I wasn’t calling to ask you out.”

  “You weren’t?”

  “No. I was calling to thank you for organizing the event the other day. You see, this is my first time in Fort Myers, and you and your staff really showed me some southern hospitality. After my day there, I’m excited to start playing so I can get a feel for the hometown crowd.”

  “And this is why you called?”

  “Of course.”

  “Hmm,” she says, pausing. “Well, I guess I owe you an apology. I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions and assuming you were calling to ask me out. It’s just…”

  “No, I get it. I was sort of an ass the other day and shouldn’t have put you on the spot.”

  She laughs lightly, sending a jolt through my system. Man, what I wouldn’t do to hear a full-on laugh from her because of something I’ve said, and now that I have her on the phone in a somewhat jovial mood, the last thing I want to do is hang up. “Listen, I’m really in the mood for some Italian, like the-best-food-you’ve-ever-had-in-your-life-never-eating-carbs-again-Italian. Do you know a place like that near the ballpark?”

  “Well, that depends. Are you looking for casual or fancy, and do you want American Italian or legit Italian?”

  Well, that question quickly backfired. I was hoping she’d tell me that she’d show me where to go, but no, she has more questions. The only thing I can do is play along, because the longer I keep her on the phone, the longer I have a chance to get to know her.

  “Probably casual and American. I left my tuxedo back in Boston.” I laugh, hoping that she gets my sense of humor. When she does, I fist-pump and give myself one point for hearing a happy sound out of her.

  “Right, so you want LaMotta’s. They have the best pizza, and the meatballs are giant.”

  “You like big balls?” I realize the horror of my words the second they’re out of my mouth. “I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant. I spend my days around ball players, and we’re not exactly polishing china during the day.”

  “It’s fine, but yes, I do enjoy a good meatball, and LaMotta’s is the best.”

  “LaMotta’s, got it.”

  “What else have you done since you arrived?”

  Bingo, now we’re talking. I fill Ainsley in on my lackluster life, mostly due to training and not knowing anyone here. I’m hoping she takes pity on me, and if it’s not tonight, then maybe tomorrow when I call her back asking for directions to her favorite restaurant. As long as I’m talking to her, it’s a step in the right direction. She may have told me no tonight, but that could change in the next few days or weeks.

  “Hey, Cooper?”

  “Yes, Ainsley.” I know the way I answer her can probably be construed as seductive, but hearing her say my name does things to me that shouldn’t be happening in the parking lot of my apartment complex.

  “I need to go. It’s getting late, and I have an early morning meeting.”

  My heart drops, but she’s right. My alarm clock will be going off sooner rather than later. “Thanks for all the info on the area.”

  “Yeah. If you check out LaMotta’s, let me know.”

  “Will do. Good night, Ainsley.”

  I hang up after she says goodbye, and fist-pump again in excitement. She left it open for me to call her again, and I plan to do just that. I’m up for the challenge of getting this woman to go out with me, even if it’s just one date.

  Chapter 8

  Ainsley

  “TGIF,” Stella sings as she comes through the door. In her hand are a box of donuts and a bag of muffins, her usual “care package” for the staff on Fridays. I pay her no mind, still pissed at her for giving Cooper Bailey my number.

  Well, I’m mad that she gave it to him because I’ve been up late for the past three nights, missed two of my favorite television shows, and am afraid we’ve run out of things to talk about on the phone. I have found that I rather enjoy talking to him, but dating or even dinner is out of the question.

  Stella waves the open box of donuts under my face. I pretend to be busy and shake my head. She sits in my chair with a huff.

  “What’s wrong? You’re usually good for at least one Boston creme.”

  The irony isn’t lost on me that Boston creme is my favorite donut and the one guy who is interested in me plays for Boston.

  “I haven’t been getting much s
leep.”

  She shuts the lid and leans forward, sorrow written all over her face. I don’t have the heart to tell her that it’s not because of my mom, at least not this week, but because I keep getting these phone calls that last for hours.

  “What do the doctors say?”

  “About Mom?” I question, causing her look at me suspiciously. “They changed her chemo because the last round didn’t work. We won’t know much more until they do another CAT scan.”

  “Is she in pain?”

  “No.” My answer is very nonchalant, and I avoid making eye contact with her because I know she’ll see right through me. The longer I can hold out on my secret, the better it is for me. She’s going to hound me, pressure me into going out with him, and I can’t.

  “I don’t get it. If your mom is feeling well, why aren’t you sleeping? Oh, it’s because you’re watching Livid?”

  No, I wish it were, but unfortunately because of you, my best friend, I’m on the phone while it’s airing, and I haven’t upgraded my cable to include a digital video recorder.

  “That’s not why, either.” I’m starting to like this game. I’m wondering how long I can go until I break and tell her why I’m so tired.

  I hit print on my computer, and the paper schedule spits out so I can look it over before posting it. Stella takes a donut out of the box and starts munching away, her eyes unfocused as she tries to figure out what is going on in my life. It’s sweet, really, how much she cares, but it’s not all that complicated. For her, the fact that I have stopped dating to care for my mother boggles her mind. Add that to my rule of never dating an athlete, and she’s completely beside herself. I’m just not as carefree with my heart as she is.

  “Welp, I’m officially confused,” she says, tossing the donut box onto my desk. I give her the stink eye, but to no avail. She isn’t buying my act, and honestly, it’s getting harder to keep everything bottled in. “I give up. Why are you so tired?”

  I calmly fold my hands over my stack of papers and look at her as if she’s being reprimanded. “I’ve been on the phone for the past three nights with Cooper Bailey.”

  Her eyes go wide, and her mouth drops open, but I slowly shake my head back and forth. “Before you start planning my wedding, there is nothing going on between us, and I am still not going out with him.”

  “Then why’s he calling?” The confusion is back. I guess it’s too much to accept that a single man and woman can be friends and not lovers these days.

  “At first I thought it was to ask me out, but I told him no before he could even get the words out, and we started talking. One night has turned into three, but after last night, I think we’re done chatting.”

  “Why?” she asks, leaning forward.

  “All he does is ask me questions about Fort Myers, and I think he knows it all by now.”

  “But?”

  “But what?”

  “Do you like him?”

  Sighing, I push away from my desk and take the schedule over to my corkboard so I can look it over. “It doesn’t matter if I do, Stella. It’s never going to happen.”

  “How do you know if you won’t give him a chance?”

  I turn and face her. “Because he lives in Boston and I live here. And I’m not looking for a relationship that ends in April. And moving out of the state is out of the question.” I throw my hands up in the air. “All of this is out of the question. I’m not going on a date with Cooper Bailey.”

  “Ainsley?” my intercom beeps with my secretary interrupting us.

  “Yes, Edna.”

  “There’s a Mister Bailey on the line for you.”

  Stella smirks and crosses her legs. She’s making it clear that she has no intention of leaving my office. My ass falls into my chair as I thank Edna for letting me know.

  “You better say yes.”

  Shaking my head. “I won’t.”

  The phone feels like it weighs a hundred pounds in my hand while my throat feels as if it has shrunk, leaving me barely enough space to swallow.

  “He…hello,” I say after clearing my throat. I don’t know why he’s calling me at work when he has my cell number.

  “I’m sorry to bother you at work, Ainsley.”

  “It’s not a bother. What can I do for you, Cooper?”

  “I was wondering if you’d like to go to lunch with me?”

  “Ainsley?” Stella says, tugging on my arm. I look up at her and catch a glimpse of Cooper standing in my doorway with a bouquet of flowers in his hand. They’re my favorites, too, sunflowers and roses. Stella takes the phone from my hand and hangs up for me.

  I’m caught off guard by how handsome he is and how the pictures online don’t do him justice, even the ones where he’s dirty from playing baseball, and my mind races with images of sponge baths and long showers. I admit that, after we spoke the other night, I looked up him up on the Web. I find him attractive, but that doesn’t alleviate my fear about athletes. It shouldn’t matter that I can see myself tracing the outline of his jaw or that I want to feel his stubble scratch against my fingertips or that I need to see a picture of him without a hat on so I can imagine what it’d be like to run my fingers through dirty blond hair. From my experience, athletes aren’t honest people, and they easily forget their personal commitments when something else comes along. I’ve been down that road before, and it’s not something I want to experience again. I don’t care how cute he is in his khaki shorts, deck shoes, and Boston Renegades polo. I’m not going to let it faze me that, when he smiles, it’s slightly crooked, and I’ve imagined what it would be like to be held in his arms.

  “Sorry to barge in, but I was in the neighborhood.”

  In the neighborhood that’s a forty-five-minute drive from where you live? The words are on the tip of my tongue, but I hold them back. The man I’ve been trying to avoid, even if I haven’t been very successful in my attempt, is standing in my doorway with flowers in his hand.

  “I wanted to thank you in person for all the help you’ve given me this week, and I’m wondering if you’d like to go out to lunch?”

  “Cooper—”

  “Of course she does.”

  Stella comes behind me and pushes me toward him, leaving me with two choices. I can go and let him down gently after lunch, or I can be an epic bitch and tell him that I’ll never go anywhere with him. Option two sounds the best right now, but people are staring, and that would be incredibly unprofessional of me.

  Cooper hands me the flowers, which are already in a vase, making it easy for me to set them on my desk. They’re beautiful—purple roses and bright yellow sunflowers—and they not only brighten my office but also my mood. It’s only lunch. Lunch can’t hurt, can it?

  “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, Ainsley.” I pretend to inhale the fragrance of the roses, but I’m really fighting off the emotion I feel when he says my name. It happens when he’s on the phone with me, and each time I find myself pausing when he says it. It’s the way my name rolls off his tongue, making my name sound softer than it is.

  Cooper motions for me to walk ahead of him. I don’t glance at Edna and whoever may be lingering near her desk, but I hear the whispers and know I’ll be water cooler gossip and subject to a barrage of questions when I return.

  He’s a gentleman, that much I can say. Cooper opens the door of his car for me, waits until I’m seated, then he shuts it and gives me just enough viewing pleasure when he runs around to the other side.

  “Pull yourself together,” I berate myself. I shouldn’t be here.

  “I found this little café not far from here. I thought we could go there.”

  “You never asked me about Naples, only Fort Myers. How did you find the café?”

  Cooper smiles, causing my insides to stir. I hate that it takes one look from him and my resolve begins to chip away.

  “The Web,” he says winking before he pulls into traffic, leaving me speechless. He used me for three
days to give him information on Fort Myers but used the Web to find us a place to eat. I think I’ve been duped.

  And I think I like it.

  Chapter 9

  Cooper

  When I found out we were having a night practice, I started to panic. The last three nights have been spent sitting in my car, parked in the lot, talking to Ainsley. Little by little, I’ve been getting to know her, only to discover that my initial feelings toward her were spot-on. Her laugh, the way she says my name, and even the way she sighs all make me feel different. They make me feel like I’ve known her for years, even though we’ve just met.

  I knew it was a long shot, showing up at her office. If she had said no, I would’ve just left it at that and moved on, but she didn’t. Not that she had a chance to, considering her friend all but pushed her out the door. Flowers, chocolates, or whatever her friend likes must be sent to thank her for helping me with Ainsley: first her number and now this. Clearly she sees something in me that she likes for her friend.

  Now Ainsley’s in my car and I can smell her perfume. The scent, whatever it is, works for her. If I weren’t already interested in her, I would be, simply because of the way she smells.

  “Thanks for coming to lunch with me.”

  “I didn’t have a choice,” she reminds me. I play it off, as if it’s no big deal that she was forced to go with me. My goal, by the end of the day, is to have her agreeing to another date, and hopefully another one after that.

  Thankfully, traffic is light and navigating the roads in Naples is fairly easy.

  “How is it that you know where to go here, but don’t in Fort Myers?”

  I can feel her gaze on me, and I try not to smile, but I’m grinning like a damn fool. This woman, she does things to me that I can’t even begin to describe. It’s not just her looks but also her being. I feel like I need to be around her.

  “Uh…a recommendation from Branch Singleton,” I tell her. It’s not far from the truth. He is the one who encouraged me to surprise her at her office after he warned me that players have to watch out for the cleat-chasers because they’re not always chasing for the right reasons.