by Laura Drewry
“Since we’re going to be playing together, I hope we can keep what happened today off the field so it doesn’t make things difficult for the rest of the team.”
“What happened…” A moment’s confusion made her frown before she released some kind of guttural sound that was part choke, part chuckle. “Right. That. Least of my problems right now.”
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing, forget it.” She started to turn away, until Brett spoke again.
“That was a hell of a catch you made earlier,” he said. “Too bad the dumbass playing short didn’t have his shit together.”
Ugh—he’d meant it as a joke, but as usual, he probably sounded clipped or cranky. He started to say as much until Ellie spoke over him.
“Whoa,” she mocked, her left eyebrow lifted in surprise. “I’d heard rumors that the cop had a sense of humor, but who knew it was true?”
Her response caught him so off guard he didn’t know how to respond, and thankfully he didn’t have to, because she kept talking.
“Look, Ponch, to hear Jayne talk, you’re like the Derek Jeter of slo-pitch, so hopefully you’ll understand this. Beer league or not, when I play, I play to win, because I don’t know how to play any other way. I also believe in the idea that we win as a team and we lose as a team, so no matter what happens off the field…”
She hesitated long enough to give him a pointed look, then continued: “When we’re here, we need to work together, not against each other. We’re all going to make mistakes, but dogging each other isn’t going to do anyone any good. Now, if that’s going to be some kind of problem for you—”
“What? No!” A problem? Was she crazy? She’d just voiced his exact philosophy, and if it had been any other woman standing there, looking that good and saying those things to him, he might have fallen a little bit in love right there in the on-deck circle. Shaking the crazy thought from his mind, Brett forced a swallow. “Not a problem. That’s, uh…good. Yeah.”
“Okay. Next time, though, get your arm behind the throw; I can’t save your ass on every play.” She started for the dugout again, then glanced back over her shoulder and smiled.
At him.
If the rest of the team weren’t already in the dugout, he’d have looked behind himself to see who the smile was really aimed at; since he was the only idiot left out there in the rain, it must have been for him.
Ellie smiled at him.
Not a smirk, sneer, or jeer—a real honest-to-God smile. Warm, easy, and natural, like a small burst of sunlight through the raindrops, like the spark of a lit match in a dark cave, like a flash of…
Holy shit, man, get a grip.
Brett stayed right where he was, watching her weave her way through the crowded dugout and out the other side to her bike. It wasn’t until Nick gave him a soft shove that he actually blinked, and by that time she was already riding away.
“What’s the matter with you?”
“What?” Even looking straight back at Nick, it took a second for Brett to see him. “Nothing. I’m, um, I’m good.”
“Then don’t just stand there—help me grab the bases.”
Another blink, this one a little longer, then Brett blew out a breath, shook his head, and hustled over to grab third, which he tossed into the back of Nick’s truck with the rest of the equipment.
“Thought you said most of the team had never played before.”
“No,” Nick laughed. “I said most hadn’t played together before. Everyone’s played some kind of ball before. Hell, Ellie played…”
He paused, then called over to Jayne. “Babe, what level ball did you tell me Ellie played?”
Before answering, Jayne reached inside the front seat of the truck and came back with a covered dish, which she held out to Brett. Then she tucked herself up next to Nick, who opened the side of his jacket and wrapped it around her.
“She was on the women’s national team for a couple years.”
Wow. Well, that explained not only her ability but her attitude toward the team.
“What?” Nick closed the glass door of the truck cap and grinned at Brett. “D’you really think I’d be stupid enough to ask you to play on a team that had no chance at winning?”
Honestly, Brett hadn’t thought about it at all. Nick was his friend; he’d told Brett he needed him on the team, so he’d agreed. Simple as that. Not including the other cops at the detachment, Nick was the first person Brett had met when he’d moved here, and he liked to think he’d helped get Nick and Jayne together. Okay, “help” might be a bit of a stretch, since his actions almost blew their relationship apart, but to look at them now you’d never know it.
Had Brett ever been that happy? He thought he’d been happy with Kerri, but that happy? No. And ever since she’d left, it was like he’d been walking around on automatic pilot.
Until today. Until that exact moment when Ellie looked back and smiled at him.
Ellie smiled at him.
An odd sensation started in his gut, a little like a tingle, and wound its way up and around every part of him until it tugged at the corners of his mouth, first one side, then the other.
Suddenly Nick’s hand was in front of his face, waving back and forth, bringing Brett’s gaze back from the empty bleachers where a few minutes ago he’d watched from the corner of his eye as Ellie climbed on her bike and rode off in the rain.
“Wow.” Nick looked down at Jayne before both of them turned their grins to Brett. “Was that a…no. Really?”
“What?” Licking his parched lips, Brett frowned from Nick to Jayne.
“Well, call me crazy,” Nick chuckled. “For a second there, it almost looked like you were actually going to smile. It’s just been so long since I’ve seen you do it, though, I wasn’t sure if it was a smile or if you just had a little gas.”
“Very funny,” Brett grunted. “I smile.”
The other two laughed as though he’d made some kind of joke. He smiled sometimes; maybe not as often as they did, but he didn’t think anyone smiled as often as they did. Okay, maybe Carter and Regan.
“Sure you do.” With a friendly slap on Brett’s shoulder, Nick opened his truck door and waited until Jayne was settled before he climbed in behind the wheel and called back to Brett. “Next time it happens, maybe let your face know so the rest of us can see it, too. Just sayin’.”
Brett was smiling right now—or was he? Well, he sure as shit wasn’t frowning, so that counted as a smile in his book.
He got into his truck and followed them out of the parking lot, then waved as they turned north and he headed south, down the back road toward home. A couple hundred meters on, someone was hunched over on the shoulder of the road in the rain.
Was it…Yup, it was.
If the situation had been reversed, Brett couldn’t honestly say for sure if she would’ve stopped for him, but his foot was already on the brake. Flicking on his hazards, he pulled up, stopping his truck so it was half on the shoulder, half on the road, acting as a buffer between her and what little bits of traffic used this route. Before he got within two feet of her, Ellie held up her hand to stop him.
“It’s just the chain; I got it.”
Thick rivulets of rain slipped down her helmet, dangling in heavy drops from the front peak. Both of her hands were covered in grease and a dirty mud line of wheel spatter ran up her butt and the back of her soaked T-shirt. If any of these things bothered her, she didn’t let on; she just kept working.
“Want me to give it a try?” he asked, squatting down on the other side of the bike.
“I got it.” Still crouched on the balls of her feet, she wrapped her left fist around the free loop of the chain and wedged the greasy fingers of her right between the gears to try to wiggle the chain free. A second later she stopped, both hands frozen in place, and pressed her face against her forearm.
“You okay?”
“Ya…I…I…” She scrubbed her nose against her arm, and when she fi
nally looked up again, her face was scrunched tight while she wiggled her nose back and forth. “I have to…Achoo!”
The force of her sneeze—which startled even Brett—rocked her off-balance, sending her sprawling backward into a shallow puddle, the end of the now-broken chain still firmly clutched in her fist.
“Damn it!”
He started to reach a hand out to help her up, but she waved him off. Still squatting, Brett let his gaze linger on her for a second before pointing down at the length of chain still jammed in the gears.
“Safe to assume that wasn’t the result you were looking for?”
There was about half a second when he wished he’d kept his mouth shut; then she made a low, mocking sound deep in her throat as she pushed to her feet.
“Jeez, two funnies in one night,” she muttered, swiping her forearms awkwardly across her butt. “Careful or you might pull something.”
There it was again: that weird sensation in his gut, only this time it was more than just a sensation. It was hotter, stronger, like some kind of internal combustion. It was strange enough to have it happen once, but this was the second time in one night, and both times had been because of her. If it had been any other woman, it would have been obvious what his gut was trying to tell him, only this wasn’t any other woman. It was Ellie.
The two of them had been forced into the same circle of friends because of their connections to Jayne and Nick, but never once in all that time—not at any of the gatherings they’d all been at, not during any of the times he’d ticketed her, and never once during his investigation of the hit-and-run—had he ever felt anything like what had hit him tonight. So what the hell?
Maybe Nick was right; maybe it was gas.
Whatever it was, he couldn’t…he wouldn’t…just leave her there in the rain.
“Come on.” He stood the bike up and started for the bed of his truck.
“Wait, what are you doing?” Gripping the edge of the seat, Ellie pulled the bike back a little.
“Putting it in the truck.” He tugged it forward.
“What for?” She tugged it back.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said slowly, his voice even against the sarcasm. “Do you not understand how a bike’s gear assembly works?”
“Yes, smart-ass, I know how it works.” She didn’t ease her grip on the seat one little bit, and neither did he.
“Okay,” he said, drawing the word out. “Then I don’t understand your question. How else do you plan on getting it home?”
“I’ll walk it.” When she tried to tug it again, Brett held tight.
Rain trickled down the back of his neck and under the collar of his jacket, sliding slowly between his shoulder blades until he shuddered. Why the hell was he standing here arguing with her? If she wanted to be that stubborn, she deserved to walk the damn bike home in the rain. He almost said as much, too, but of course he didn’t. He couldn’t. It was a safety issue.
Yeah. That was it. Safety first.
“Come on, Ellie, it’s getting dark and you don’t have a single reflective strip on this bike.” With a final jerking tug, he pulled the bike out of her grasp, lifted it into the bed of his truck, then reached around her to open the passenger door. “Just get in.”
He was already behind the wheel with his buckle latched before she finally huffed out a defeated breath.
“Do you have a towel or something I can sit on?” She waved her hands down the length of herself, as though he hadn’t already noticed the mud splatters or how her soaked T-shirt clung to her. Judging by the way she was suddenly trying to pull it away from her skin, she knew he noticed, too.
“Don’t worry about it,” he finally managed, shifting Jayne’s container of leftovers closer to him. “Seats are leather—they’ll wipe right up.”
It took her a while to get in and close the door because she was trying so hard not to touch anything with her greasy hands, and after watching her fight to grip the seat belt with her pinkie finger, he finally reached over, pulled it across her body, and snapped it into place himself. Goose bumps riddled both her bare forearms, so before putting the truck in gear, he turned the heat up a little and flipped on her seat warmer.
“Not exactly the best time of year to be without a jacket,” he said.
“Yeah, well, things went a little sideways before I left, and I forgot it.” Not a breath of malice, just low and even, with maybe a hint of laughter when she added, “Too bad, though, ’cause it had reflective strips all over it.”
For the first half kilometer or so, he waited for her to light into him about how, if it hadn’t been for him, she would have been home right this second, warm and dry and clean, but seconds ticked by without so much as a whisper. It wasn’t that he wanted her to rip into him, it was just—
“I hope you don’t feel guilty about making me ride my bike in the rain,” she said, snapping her helmet through the strap of her backpack. “I always ride to practices and games—it’s part of my warm-up.”
“That’s, uh, good to know, but I didn’t make you ride your bike, and I don’t feel guilty. You’re the one who drives like a lunatic.”
“I don’t—” She stopped, rubbed the heel of her hand under her nose, and sat back with a resigned sigh. “If it’s not guilt, then why did you stop to help me?”
“Why did I…?” He cast a glance her way, but she’d turned to look out the side window. “Are you serious?”
“You must have had a reason.”
Brett resisted the urge to snort. “You really want to know?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, but it might surprise you.”
“Ha. There’s not many things you could say that’ll surprise me.”
“I did it because…” He paused, inhaled slowly, then huffed it out in a whoosh for added effect. “I can’t believe I’m admitting this out loud….Okay, here goes. I did it because, despite what you think, I’m not a complete asshole. Shocking, I know.”
He caught a glimpse of her smile through the reflection in the glass, but by the time she turned to face him again, all that was left was a tiny twitch at the corner of her mouth.
“Touché, Poncherello.”
Was that it? No return jab? He wasn’t complaining, he just wasn’t sure where to go from here, and apparently neither did she. Still, it felt stupid not saying anything, so…
“We can take a crack at getting the chain out when we get to your place, but it’s jammed in there pretty good and we’ll probably bend up your gears.”
“It’s fine; I’ll take it to the bike shop tomorrow and have Tim fix it.”
“Uh-huh.” Brett glanced over at her, waiting for her to work through the logistics of what she’d said. Wasn’t happening. “So, what, you’re just gonna walk it the five clicks between your place and there?”
“No, I’ve got a bike rack on my…” It only took a second before she grunted low in her throat. “Right.”
Turning onto her street, he took a mental inventory of the vehicles parked on either side of the road. After she’d been hit by that truck last year, Brett couldn’t shake the feeling it had been more than just an everyday hit-and-run. Ordinarily, the suspect driver would be in such a hurry to get away, he’d leave all sorts of evidence behind, but not in this case. Whoever had driven the truck had made damn good and sure he hadn’t left a trace, which made Brett wonder right from the start if she hadn’t been targeted.
When he’d broached the idea with her friends, they couldn’t come up with a single person who might want to hurt Ellie.
“I mean, sure,” Maya had said. “There’ve been a couple times I’ve wanted to clock her a good one myself, but that’s because I made the mistake of asking her opinion on something, and we all know we’re in for some harsh truths when we do that.”
As part of Brett’s investigation, he’d driven down her street at various times of the day and night, both in his patrol car and in his truck, keeping an eye out for any vehicles that seemed out of plac
e or the least bit suspicious, but he’d never found a single vehicle that didn’t have a reason for being there. Tonight was no different.
“Leave the bike with me,” he said. “And I’ll drop it off at Tim’s in the morning.”
Ellie was already shaking her head.
“That’s okay, I’ll ask—” Using the tip of her pinkie finger, she tried to push the button on her seat belt, but it was at a weird angle and she couldn’t get enough pressure from her one finger. “I’ll ask Nick.”
“Sure, okay.” Brett unclicked both their buckles, then got out of the truck and rounded the front to open her door. “I’m sure Nick can make room for it between the ball equipment, sawhorses, and boxed-up fixtures he’s hauling around for the Jacobssens’ house. That toilet alone probably only weighs about a hundred pounds, so it shouldn’t be too much of a pain in the ass to move. And sure, my truck’s empty and I have to drive right by Tim’s to get to work tomorr—”
“Stop!” Ellie cried, her plea laced with a resigned, choked laugh. Rain-soaked, spattered in mud, and with her backpack hanging from her bent elbow, she continued to hold her hands up like she was prepping for surgery. “I get it, okay? You’re right.”
With the bike lifted half out of the truck, Brett froze for a second before turning a disbelieving eye her way. “I’m sorry…I’m what?”
“Don’t be an ass.” The tiny gold fleck in her right eye sparkled for a second before she narrowed her gaze at him. “I said you’re right. And…thank you. I appreciate your help.”
Brett lowered the bike back down, slumped his hip against the side of the truck, and nodded.
“Whew.” He whistled slowly. “I bet that hurt.”
“You have no idea.” She could roll her eyes all she wanted, he saw the way she chewed the corner of her mouth like she was trying not to smile.
He was pretty sure his own smile almost made it to his face that time, but before it did, the front door of the house opened and out stepped an older, gray-haired Ellie.