No Time to Explain

by Kate Angell

  He nodded to Candy. “Ask us anything.”

  “Nothing’s off-limits?”

  “Your exclusive.”

  That pleased her. She opened with, “Do you believe in love at first sight?”

  Joe didn’t miss a beat. “Not before Stevie. We met at the bridal event on the boardwalk. She caught my eye.”

  “How? Who initiated contact?”

  Joe winked at Stevie. “She was trying on a garter. Lady has great legs. I complimented her.”

  Candace jotted down his reply. She eyed Stevie. “After his compliment?”

  Stevie hesitated, slowly said, “I walked away.”

  “Played hard to get?” asked Candace.

  “He . . . caught me.”

  “That he did,” said Candace. “Lucky you.”

  “Lucky me,” Joe added.

  Candace tapped her ink pen on her notepad. “So, you haven’t known each other long, then.”

  Stevie faltered, and Joe advanced, “I’m not bound by time. Never have been.” He squeezed Stevie close. “I live in the moment. Stevie’s more reserved. I told her to flip her calendar ahead a month or more, to whenever she’d be ready for me. She chose June.”

  Candace laughed. “Summer, Stevie, as in a June wedding? ”

  “To be determined,” Stevie hedged. “Baseball comes first.”

  “A woman who understands her future husband’s career,” Candace complimented. She pursed her lips, specifically asked Stevie, “Joe, or Zoo to his fans, has the reputation of being a wild man. Both on and off the field. How do you deal with the fans, the women?”

  Stevie owned it. “What fans? What women?” she returned. “When we’re together, it’s just us.”

  “So, you’re a woman who is secure with her man?”

  “Never a doubt.” Firm, final.

  Joe inwardly smiled, relieved by her answer. Stevie was a psychologist. She didn’t analyze him, but she got him. Crazy-ass past and all. She was his present. His future.

  Candace further questioned, “Small or large wedding? ”

  Stevie was thoughtful. “I’d like something similar to the photo shoot. As many dogs in attendance as guests.”

  “Speaking of the shoot, I have some preliminary pictures.” Candace went to her briefcase, removed a file. She spread three photos on the desktop. Two in color. One black-and-white.

  Joe studied them alongside Stevie. Her breath caught, her heart in her eyes, and he knew why. His own heart warmed. There was nothing phony or pretend about the pictures. It appeared to be a real-life wedding.

  Candace confirmed his thought. “A beautiful bride. A rugged groom. Visible flirting. A sexy happiness. Dogs, a part of the family. One of our best shoots. It’ll be the centerfold.”

  “Publication month?” Stevie softly worried.

  “May, both digital and print.”

  Stevie sank against Joe. “Only two months.”

  “We could be married by then.”

  “Or not.”

  “Where would you honeymoon?” asked Candace.

  “Barefoot William is paradise,” said Stevie.

  “Location is irrelevant,” from Joe. “A great bed is all that matters. A big brass bed.” As in Stevie’s bedroom. “Newlyweds seldom leave their hotel suite, anyway.”

  Stevie pinched his thigh, indicating too much information.

  Candace smiled, pleased. He was adding zing to her article. She had one final question. “Engagement ring? I don’t see one on your finger.”

  Stevie flinched, but Joe filtered her unease. He laced their fingers, held up their hands. Sunlight split the windowpanes, glancing off the gold bands each of them still wore. “From the I Do shoot. Kind of romantic, don’t you think? Stevie knows I love her.”

  Candace sighed. “Beautifully sentimental.” She gathered the photos off the desk, returned them to her briefcase. “I’d like to talk with Twyla, get a little background on Unleashed, if she has the time.”

  “My aunt loves to share the Unleashed story. The dog day care is her first love.”

  “Maybe her second love,” Joe whispered near her ear, as they stood. “George is moving up fast.”

  They walked Candace to the kitchen, where Twyla was baking organic treats for the dogs. She was ready to get off her feet, and she settled in a chair, willing to answer questions. Stevie stayed behind, waiting for the timer to go off, so the biscuits wouldn’t burn.

  Joe went in search of Turbo. He found him in the backyard, hiding in the crawl tunnel with Etta. He let them be.

  “Hi, groom,” Lori called to him. She was playing ball with three collie puppies. She and Twyla were the only two aware of the photo shoot, outside of those from the magazine. They knew the wedding was staged, imaginary, and they were sworn to secrecy. “How was the interview?” she asked.

  “We upheld the image.”

  She threw a handful of rubber balls, and the puppies scampered off. She approached Joe. “For how long?”

  “It’s up to Stevie. I’ve no plans to break off our engagement.”

  Lori gaped. “Reality check. Don’t lead her on.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Oh…” Her smile was dazzling. “Dean and I might have news soon, too. Based on this week’s outcome.”

  Triple-A cuts. Dean had lived up to the coaches’ expectations. But was he ready for the major leagues? The final roster would soon be announced. There was a team meeting scheduled for late Friday. Kason Rhodes had an appointment to speak to the team.

  The back door opened, and Stevie called out, “Pickup time. Gather the pups. The owner’s waiting.”

  Lori whistled, and two of the three collies listened. The third ran away from her. Lori looked at Joe, who took the hint and chased down the little guy. As he carried the pup inside, he noticed the name on his collar, Dash. He lived up to his name.

  Joe cornered Stevie. “Is she gone?” he asked, referring to the feature editor.

  “Candace just left. She and Twyla had a nice chat.”

  “We need to talk,” he pointedly said.

  “I know.” She sounded defeated. She expected him to dump her. Not his intention.

  “Your bedroom, in an hour.”

  His chosen location surprised her. She slowly nodded.

  He slipped his car keys from his jeans pocket. “I’ve got an errand to run. Back shortly.”

  * * *

  Fifty minutes later, he returned to an empty foyer, carrying a bakery box. No sign of Stevie. Or Turbo. Twyla poked her head out from the kitchen. “Quiet night. Your boy’s with me.”

  Joe was appreciative. He took the stairs two at a time. Knocked once on Stevie’s bedroom door, warning her of his arrival, then entered. He found her looking out the window. Her back was to him. Sunlight kissed her hair, one side of her face. His heart swelled, warmed, just looking at her. He didn’t fight the feeling. He let it spread. It felt amazingly good.

  He set the bakery box on the table, then went to her. Separated from Stevie by inches, he’d yet to touch her.

  She dipped her head, and her shoulders sagged. “I’m listening, Joe,” she said, requesting that he speak first.

  He did so. “Good dialogue with the feature editor.”

  She started. “You thought the interview went well?”

  “We gave her what she wanted.”

  “A notepad of untruths.”

  “Who’s to say what’s real, what’s not?”

  “We know better.”

  “I want what’s best for us.”

  She turned slightly. “And that would be . . . ?” “Whatever you want.”

  “I got us into this—I’ll get us out.”

  “You breaking off our engagement?”

  “We were never really engaged.”

  “We convinced people we were,” he reminded her. “We shared a photo spread.”

  “Couples part ways, without explanation.”

  “You’d need a damn good reason for dumping me.”


  “You’re not the marrying type.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  She faced him fully. “Prove me wrong.”

  “A cupcake will set you straight.” He guided her to the table. “For you.”

  She eyed the box, uncertain. Her hand shook as she lifted the lid. A peek inside, and she gasped. Could barely catch her breath. “What does this mean?”

  He collected the gourmet treat. The wrapper was swirled in silver and gold with a lacy white bow. “That I like jumbo cupcakes. Vanilla cake, whipped vanilla frosting.”

  “The topper?” Her eyes were overly bright.

  It was a plastic bride and groom. “Us, our future. Marry me, Stevie.”

  Tears escaped, and she cried. Not quite the reaction he’d expected. “Is that a yes?” he asked, seeking assurance.

  She nodded against his chest.

  “Happy tears?” he assumed.

  She only wept harder. He could live with happy tears. She was really happy. He held the cupcake in one hand, eased her close with the other. He comforted her. She wrapped her arms about his waist. Held him tight. Sobbed out her soul. For minutes. Finally she was able to say, “I love you.”

  He spoke his heart. “I love you, too.”

  She sniffed, reached around him for a Kleenex from the table next to the bakery box. Wiped her eyes, blew her nose. Managed a watery smile. “A cupcake proposal.”

  “Best I could do on short notice.”

  “It looks delicious.”

  They tasted the cupcake—and each other.

  And were very satisfied.

  * * *

  The week progressed in a blur. Days of spring training. Nights with Stevie. Twyla and Lori cried over their engagement. Joe figured tears were a woman’s thing. He’d passed the Kleenex around.

  The Rogues’ locker room went silent when he told his teammates he’d be getting married. No one believed him at first. The boozer with the party posse had finally found his woman. Stevie did it for him. She calmed him. Settled his soul. Married player Brody Jones was the first to congratulate him. Their fist-bump sent a tremor up Brody’s arm. He winced. Odd. His buddies came around. Joking, offering marital advice, happy for him.

  Later that afternoon Kason Rhodes and the coaches conducted a meeting first with the Rebels, then with the Rogues. It was a sober moment when the minor leaguers exited the conference room, shouldering their disappointment at not landing on the seasonal roster. The guys shook hands with the pros, followed by a few slaps on the back. They next hefted their athletic gear and duffel bags and boarded the Greyhound bus. Back to Roanoke.

  Joe was quick to note that Dean Jensen and pitcher Noah Scanlon were not in line for the bus. What the hell? The Rogues were soon called to the meeting room. Brody hung back, didn’t attend.

  The room was large, yet Joe immediately spotted the two Rebels in the back row, on the far side. Taking in the meeting with the team. That did not bode well for Joe. He and Dean had both fought for left field. His gut tightened. He’d know his fate soon enough.

  The remaining Rogues crowded in, found seats. Kason surveyed the room. He congratulated the team on a strong spring training. And he was proud to announce the addition of Jensen and Scanlon to the roster. Scanlon would close for starting pitcher, Will Ridgeway. Nods all around. He had a hell of a fastball. Didn’t rattle easily. He was ready for the majors.

  Kason read off the infield starters, no big surprises. Until he got to shortstop. “Brody Jones won’t be returning this season,” he said solemnly. Silence settled heavily over the room. “Because of a recurring shoulder injury, he’s decided to retire.”

  Brody was older than the other players, often quiet. He came to work and did his job. No complaints. He’d covered short as if his life depended on it. He would head back to Plain, West Virginia, with his wife and kids. He would be missed.

  Kason called off names in the outfield next. He stopped at left. His gaze shifted between Joe and Dean. “There’s been stiff competition for left field. Joe’s got longevity. Dean’s coming on fast.” There was a prolonged pause. “Execs and coaches feel that Dean deserves a chance this year.”

  A chance at left field . . . Where did that leave Joe?

  An unnerving silence until Rylan stood, his shoulders squared. An unprecedented moment. “Team captain objection, with all due respect. I want to speak on Zoo’s behalf. No offense to Dean, but Zoo’s proved himself over five seasons. He’s solid in left. The man face-smashed the cement post to catch your fly ball. Let the roster stand.”

  Halo Todd pushed to his feet next. “Zoo throws dead-on from left to home. We don’t need a relay third baseman. No offense, Landon.”

  “None taken.” Landon rose and said, “Zoo’s difficult, hard-core, but he always has our back, on and off the field. I vote for him.”

  Pax, Sam, and Will added their endorsements. Catcher Hank Jacoby reiterated the strength and alignment of each outfield throw. It was a humbling moment. Joe was part of the team, but not until that moment did he truly feel the brotherhood. Eight players stood by him. Their opinions mattered. Even if they didn’t sit well with Kason.

  Joe glanced over his shoulder at Dean. He sat slumped on his chair. Unhappy. Uneasy. Unwelcome. Joe felt an honest sympathy for the man. Whatever the ultimate result would be, his teammates had stuck by him. He exhaled his hatred for the minor leaguer. Breathed in hope.

  “Done, guys?” Kason appeared more amused than annoyed. There was no further opposition. “Had you let me finish . . .”

  * * *

  Kason’s “finish” stayed with Joe on the drive back to Unleashed. He couldn’t believe the outcome. Dean pulled in behind him at the doggy day care. Both men climbed from their vehicles. Neither tried to trip up or shove the other off the stairs. It was six fifteen, and Unleashed was closed for the day. All the dogs had been picked up. Stevie and Lori huddled in the entry hall. Twyla and George in the background. All awaiting their news.

  Each man embraced his woman. Shaking and scared, Lori spoke first. “What happened?”

  Stevie clutched his arms, whispered, “Joe?”

  He eased her mind. “I’m still playing left.”

  Relief from Stevie, followed by concern for her cousin. Her gaze clouded. She bit down on her bottom lip. “Oh . . . Dean.”

  Lori closed her eyes, disappointed.

  Joe held up his hand. “Don’t feel bad for the Rogue.”

  Both girls startled. Lori’s eyes snapped wide. “The Rogue? ”

  Seconds of suspense passed before Dean grinned, told them, “Brody Jones is retiring. Shoulder damage. Kason Rhodes went back through my college records, noticed I’d played shortstop for two years before moving to outfield. That I’d won the Brooks Wallace Award, Shortstop of the Year, determined by the College Baseball Foundation.” A release of breath. “I always liked short. The spine of infield action. I’m fast. Good arm. Kason offered me the position. I’m suiting up in the majors.”

  Lori whooped, jumped on Dean, wrapping her legs around his hips. Relieved laughter and lots of kisses. They slowly broke apart. Dean received heartfelt congratulations from Stevie, Twyla, and George. Joe gave him a short nod of approval, then stepped back.

  He went in search of his rottie. He found Turbo and Etta in the Toy Room, surrounded by tennis balls, Kongs, Nylabones, Frisbees, and stuffed socks. They chewed together on opposite ends of a tug rope. Etta had brought him to heel. His once-manic dog was now mannered. Tamed. Content.

  Stevie came up behind him. Curved her arm about his waist. Leaned into his side. “Turbo will be glad Dean made the team.”

  “My boy would’ve missed Etta if Dean had returned to Roanoke.”

  “The dogs will continue to see each other here, and then back in Richmond. A happy ending. Not only for them, but for Lori and Dean, too.”

  “Dean.” He ran his hand down his face. “A Rogue. Blows my mind. A total mental explosion.”

  “It’s been a life-changing couple o
f weeks. Twyla and George. You and me.”

  “Meant to be is meant to be.”

  “I think so, too.”

  Turbo yawned, nudged Etta. The two dogs left the Toy Room for the kitchen. Joe grinned. “Inner clocks. It’s dinnertime.”

  “I thought to make tacos for us,” Stevie offered. “Cupcakes for dessert.”

  “Can we start with dessert?”

  “If you like.”

  “I like.”

  He kissed her then, tasted her sweetness long before the cupcake. Dessert had nothing on Stevie. She was his favorite flavor. Forever.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  National bestselling author KATE ANGELL lives in Naples, Florida. She’s an animal lover, avid reader, and sports fan. Bookstores are her second home. She takes coffee breaks at Starbucks. Her philosophy: Out of chaos comes calmness. Enjoy the peace and please visit her on Facebook or at www.kateangell.com.

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