Come Back to the Ballpark, Maisy Gray
Page 10
Maisy grabbed his shoulders. “Steady there.”
As they were locked together, she was struck by two things — how hard his body was underneath Chad’s dorky clothes and how he smelled even better up close with her nose pressed against his shoulder. She wanted to run her tongue along the ridge of his collarbone to see if that salty-lime smell was actually a thing.
His curiosity must be playing the same game. He lowered his head to Maisy’s neck, his breath hot against her skin. She jumped when his lips touched the hollow of her neck and trailed across her skin where the loose T-shirt fell away.
“Sam.” She sounded as shaky as she felt. She didn’t know if she wanted him to keep going or stop. It was more of an exclamation. “Sam.”
His lips traveled up her neck and his hot tongue paused below her ear. Maisy had forgotten how sensitive that area was. It used to drive her crazy when Kev— No. She was too selfish to think about him right now. She couldn’t think at all. Except for the bittersweet reminder that she missed this kind of closeness immensely.
She was suddenly aware of his hands. One rested at the side of her breast, his thumb beneath the gentle slope. The other hand grasped her waist, and he pulled her into him.
Her eyes went wide. “Wait, Sam. This isn’t…” She put her hands on his chest, embarrassed that it was the first signal of resistance she had given. He must think she wanted this. But she didn’t. Right? Maisy’s head was slow to clear. Like the steam on the bathroom mirror.
His mouth teased the fine hair at the base of her neck. The sound of her own little gasp surprised her. “You smell so sweet, Maisy.”
It sounded so real. But she couldn’t let go of her suspicions. Every mesmerizing word coming out of his mouth had the hum of dozens of honey bees…before the sting.
He gathered her closer. His tongue grazed her temple. Forget the bee analogy. He was far more dangerous. More like a predator that anesthetized his prey with charm. If she wasn’t careful, she’d be back where she ended after Kevin.
Gathering her willpower, Maisy pushed him away. “Is this part of the plan?”
“What?” His eyes grew wide at her resistance.
“Did you do that on purpose?”
The hazy seduction disappeared from his eyes and was replaced with something unreadable. Without even blinking, he shrugged as if it was all a joke. “You can’t blame a man for trying.”
“My God, how pitiful do you think I am?” Her cheeks were on fire. He was reprehensible. “Was that supposed to make me reconsider your earlier offer to go to the game?”
“Don’t look so mad. This had nothing to do with the game. Women in bunny shirts and clean faces always do it to me.”
“Now I know you’re a liar.” Maisy marched toward her bedroom, slamming the door with enough force that the wall shook.
A moment later, she heard a voice below. “Everything all right up there?”
Maisy yanked open her bedroom door and called out, “Sorry, Dad. The wind slammed the door shut.”
Sam was still in the hallway, staring at the floor. His mouth twisted and he added, “Maisy was just making sure I had everything I needed.”
Maisy rolled her eyes and shut her door once more in his face.
She was angry at herself for falling for his little seduction ploy. And at him for thinking she was that easy. If he fell and hurt himself, he might just have to stay there, because no way was she coming to his rescue.
After she got into bed and turned out her light, she listened closely for signs of him struggling in the bedroom next door. It would be satisfying to refuse aid.
Sleep did not come easily. She couldn’t stop thinking about the man on the other side of the wall. Why had she reacted so strongly to his touch? Not only the sexy lip-skimming-caress thing he did with his mouth, but the way he stirred up her emotions. She had been around plenty of men in the past few years. Why was she reacting now?
It must be the baseball. It had disrupted her normal equilibrium.
No. Longer.
She punched the pillow and admitted to herself that somewhere deep inside her were needs that had never been met. As wonderful as her relationship with Kevin had seemed to the rest of the world, in reality, things had been less…well, just less.
Kevin was never the most generous of lovers. A rush to his own satisfaction that she had blamed on his youth had never matured. The only time she’d felt real tenderness from him was when they watched baseball on the couch. His preoccupation with the game had come with caresses that she mistook for foreplay.
When he’d started playing major-league baseball, things became worse. He’d become preoccupied with anything that might impact his game. His time off the field was measured in how it affected his strength. Every extra movement might suck his energy. Game days and long nights and road trips had made him stingier with his energy. He’d said he needed to conserve himself.
Off-season was no better. Maisy usually ended up satisfied. It was just that it always happened so quickly. And she did most of the work. He wasn’t interested in a long, drawn-out lovemaking session. He preferred positions that wouldn’t cause injury or strain. So, sex was kind of…boring. Sometimes she had to close her eyes and daydream erotic scenarios just to work up any excitement.
Sam Hunter’s seduction in the hallway wasn’t the act of a man who was thinking about conserving his energy. He’d touched her with a slow persuasion that might take all night to reach a destination. Until her head had cleared, she had been more than willing to take that journey.
She was almost asleep when she heard a muffled crash.
Jumping out of bed, Maisy ran into the hallway and swung open his bedroom door.
“What happened?”
Sam was in bed, leaning over the side. “I dropped my phone and knocked over the lamp as I reached for it.”
The shadowy light of the overturned lamp caught a light sprinkling of hair across his bare chest. It was not the upper torso of a man who sat behind a desk all day. Defined pecs. Biceps and triceps that lifted more than cell phones.
He caught her staring and grinned. She stepped backwards, still clutching the door handle. “I thought you fell.”
“Nope. Just my phone. Do you want to come help me pick this stuff up?” Damn him. His eyes were sparkling. He thought this was amusing.
“No.” She closed her eyes and wished she could unsee what she had been looking at. She might never be able to look at him normally again.
“Care to tuck me into bed, then?”
Now he was being a jerk. She slammed the door shut on his laughter.
Chapter Eight
It was past seven and Maisy couldn’t believe she’d slept so late. When she came down to breakfast, she found both her parents sitting at the table and frowning at part of the newspaper.
“Hi, honey.” Dad shoved the paper on a chair underneath the table.
“Good morning,” Sam’s cheery voice said from the stairway. How dare he sound so happy after haunting her sleep so badly.
“How is your foot, Sam?” Mom asked.
“Fine.” He was back in his freshly washed clothes. He clutched his shoes in one hand and walked barefoot down the last few steps. From clear across the room, Maisy saw the yellow, blue, and black tone of the skin around his middle toe.
Her father made a little whistle. “Well, you won’t be stepping on the clutch with that foot today.”
Sam grimaced. “I’m sure I’ll be able to shift gear with no problem. Watch. I can make it across the room without limping.”
He made it four steps before his intentions fell apart. He listed to the side and clutched the back of the couch and muttered, “Damn.”
“I know exactly how you feel.” Andrea rose from her chair. “Come have some breakfast, Sam. We have coffee and fruit and Bobby ran out for muffins.”
Maisy
stopped her. “I’ll get it.”
“Thanks, Maisy,” Sam said. “I hope I didn’t keep you awake last night.”
Maisy felt heat spread across her cheeks. How dare he bring that up.
Sam dropped into the chair next to Bobby. “I’ve been told I snore, too, when I sleep soundly. Last night was as deep and dreamless a sleep as I’ve had in years. Must be all this country air.”
So, last night’s foreplay had made him sleepy? She fumed at the injustice. Her neck was still burning where his tongue had been.
“I slept like a baby, too,” she lied. “Didn’t even hear the rain.”
“That’s good. Black coffee, no sugar, if you don’t mind, Maisy.”
Maisy sent Sam a hooded glance and stomped to the coffeemaker. She toyed with the idea of putting tabasco sauce in his mug. It would be her pleasure to watch him sputter and spit in front of her parents, who both seemed to think Sam was a gentleman.
In the end she placed a plate and an unspoiled cup of coffee in front of him.
“Thanks.” He reached for a muffin and smiled at her blandly, as if nothing unusual had happened last night.
“Is that the Star I see?” Sam grabbed the paper from the table. He leafed through it, not finding what he was looking for. “Do you have the sports section? I should skim the MLB stats from yesterday.”
Bobby and Andrea exchanged glances. “I’m not sure I’ve seen it yet,” Bobby said.
Maisy reached over and picked it up from the chair. “You put it here a minute ago.”
She slapped it on the table next to Sam’s mug and froze when she saw her own face staring back at her.
“What’s wrong?” Sam pulled the paper closer and read the headline out loud. “ ‘Wins Aren’t the Only Thing the Turbos Can’t Get.’ ”
Maisy quickly scanned the story by that rat, Luther McLean, the reporter who’d written the first article about her. His intrepid sports reporting was famous in Indiana. And as she read the article, she remembered why. He was ruthless when he thought he knew what was best for a team. According to the article, not only were the Turbos failing on the field, but their management was failing with the fans. Turbos fans needed her at the stadium so that they could win again.
Maisy lost her appetite. Any chance that Turbos fans would forget about her had just disappeared. Luther McLean’s article had made sure of that.
Her father cleared his throat. “It’s just a silly article.”
Her mother nodded. “I’m sure no one will even see it tucked away in the corner like that.”
The phone rang. Dad grabbed the cordless phone from the cradle. “Hi, Jimbo. We haven’t seen you since Memorial Day. How’s—” The man on the other end didn’t let him finish. “We understand, but—”
Her dad’s normally calm exterior was transformed into agitation and something else that made Maisy’s stomach burn. While Dad fought for a chance to speak, Maisy returned to the article. It made no mention of her unwillingness to return to the ballpark. McLean blamed the management instead. The fans, he said, were being shortchanged as usual.
“Oh, for God’s sake, this article equates my absence at the stadium to a game without beer and hotdogs.” She tapped the paper with her fingertips.
“Hmm. How annoying.” Sam acted as if it didn’t faze him at all. He pushed the paper away and dismissed her feelings with a shrug. “Just ignore it, Maisy. You’ve already made it completely clear you don’t want to return to the ballpark. And I don’t blame you. The fans can’t make you do anything you don’t want to do.”
Maisy was surprised how much he had changed his tune. Yesterday, Sam had been all over the idea of getting her to a game.
“She doesn’t owe anybody anything,” Bobby bellowed into the phone. “I’m done having this conversation!”
When he hung up, Maisy and Andrea stared at him with open mouths. He never let anything rattle him unless it had to do with the health of one of his patients.
The phone rang again.
“Hello.” Her father listened for two seconds and hung up. He put the cordless phone on a shelf above the cookbooks. “Don’t answer the phone today.”
“Who was it?”
“Some nosey reporter. Just ignore any calls, okay?”
Sam put a hand on Maisy’s arm. “I deal with this kind of thing all the time. Don’t worry. It will pass over before you know it.”
Easy for him to say. His name wasn’t all over the paper— Wait. Actually, it was. Sam’s name was mentioned in the article just as many times as Maisy’s. Technically the article didn’t blame her for not showing up. It blamed Sam for not taking the fans seriously.
Sam rose from the table. “I’ve taken up your hospitality way too much, Bobby and Andrea. I think it would be best for all of us if I get back to Indianapolis and try to diffuse this ridiculous gossip on my own.”
He took one step and hobbled to the side, grabbing a chair.
“You still can’t drive, Sam,” Bobby said.
“Sure, I can. I’ll just use my other foot—”
Before he could finish, they were interrupted by the rumble of tires on gravel and a car door slamming. From her vantage point, Maisy could see a woman emerging from a cloud of dust and marching toward the back porch.
She jumped up. “Quick, lock the doors and windows!”
Before she could hide, the woman barged through the screen door. “Where is she?”
Sam stared at Kevin’s mom like a little kid at Halloween. She was a scary witch, that was for sure.
Thin, angular, and dour. Those three words described Sarah Halderman ten years ago, and they still applied. Kevin’s mother’s shrill voice was so loud dogs ran from her and children cried. She’d never liked Maisy or her family. She didn’t like anything other than her son, to be honest.
“There she is.” Sarah stomped across the room.
Maisy knew when it was time to cut and run. “I can’t talk right now, Mrs. Halderman.”
“I warned Kevin he should stay away from you years ago. I thought it was all over, but here you are again. Back in his life and causing chaos. I hope you are proud of yourself, young lady.”
Bobby blocked Sarah’s path. “That’s being overdramatic, Sarah. Maisy is hardly to blame for—”
“I’ve already had three calls this morning,” she shouted. “I can’t have any peace of mind until I know you will stay away from that stadium. Kevin’s success has nothing to do with you. And that no-hitter was his doing. Not yours!”
Maisy was halfway up the stairs. “My words exactly.”
“You always did manage to take the spotlight. And here you go again.”
That was a new one. No one had ever accused Maisy of stealing the spotlight before.
Sarah pointed her finger. “I want a guarantee that you won’t get anywhere near Indianapolis…”
Nothing like a challenge to galvanize Maisy into action. She ran upstairs, calling after her, “Sorry, I have to pack.”
From the kitchen, she could hear her mother’s firm voice telling Sarah that none of this publicity was Maisy’s responsibility. Moving as fast as she could, Maisy pulled out an overnight bag and stuffed an extra pair of clothes inside.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket and she pulled it out to see a text from Chad. Change your mind yet? He attached the article along with an emoji that was supposed to be funny.
Heather had sent another text. WTF? Call me.
Maisy grabbed her toiletries from the bathroom and made her way back downstairs.
In the middle of the kitchen, Bobby stood toe to toe with Sarah Halderman. Andrea was behind him, grasping her crutches like weapons in case Kevin’s mother made any moves. They had never liked each other, but Andrea had always taken the high road for Maisy’s sake. Sarah had no idea what she was in for if Andrea let her temper loose.
“Where’s Sam?” Maisy whispered in her mother’s ear. She wouldn’t blame him if he was hiding behind the couch.
“He’s sitting in his car. He said something about trying to see if he can drive.”
Maisy kissed Andrea on the cheek and gave her dad a quick hug even as he kept talking. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Love you.”
“Where is she going?” she heard Sarah say as the screen porch slammed behind her. She should feel guilty about leaving her parents with Kevin’s mom, but something told her they were enjoying the opportunity to give the witch a piece of their minds.
It was time to get the Turbos general manager out of the house and out of Comeback. Then, maybe things would go back to normal. Her father had office hours. Her mother needed her rest. Maisy had a little more than a month before she had to get back to the classroom. Maybe she would take a vacation to China or, even better, a remote desert island.
She marched toward Sam’s car. The door stood open and he sat in the driver’s seat. She held out her hand and wiggled her fingers. “I’ll drive.”
His eyes sparkled, and he made no comment as he handed her the keys to his Cadillac.
Chapter Nine
Still reeling from the blitz that was Sarah Halderman, Sam and Maisy spent the first few miles of the journey in silence.
“She’s a piece of work,” he finally blurted.
“She has her moments.” Maisy checked her rearview mirror. So did Sam. He half expected to see Sarah Halderman chasing after them on a bike with a cyclone in her wake.
With nothing but corn and concrete behind them, Sam breathed a big sigh of relief and refused to feel any guilt about the events of the morning. His job was to do whatever was necessary to make the fans and his boss happy. They wanted Maisy to come to the stadium. And that’s what he was doing. She just didn’t know it yet.
In less than twenty-four hours, the Turbos would lose their game against the Yankees. The fans would realize she wasn’t their lucky charm after all. Maisy would be free. She’d be thanking Sam by the end of the week.