Come Back to the Ballpark, Maisy Gray

by Cynthia Tennent

  “To Sam.”

  “Hunter?” Chad raked his hands through his hair. Poor Chad. He was such a great brother.

  “I don’t want Sam to be alone right now.”

  It took a moment for them to digest what she said. Mom was the first to let go of her hand. “All right, honey.”

  Dad’s eyes grew suspiciously moist. “Sam Hunter? Another baseball man? Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure,” she said, giving her father a kiss on the cheek.

  “Maisy,” Mom said. “You might want to pack a bag.”

  “And hang on to your clothes this time,” Chad called after her as she ran for the stairs.

  Chapter Twenty

  A gentle rain started an hour after Maisy hit the road. By the time she entered the city, it had turned into a steady shower that showed no signs of abating. Unable to enter the Commodore’s parking garage, she had been forced to park two blocks away. It took a moment for the doorman to recognize her standing in the lobby with her hair plastered to her face and water dripping off her drenched yellow dress onto the marble floor. When he did, his face split open with a grin. He gave her Sam’s apartment number and waved her right up.

  She knocked on Sam’s door and realized she was shivering when saw her own hand shaking. She knocked again.

  No one answered.

  If it weren’t for the sound of the Red Hot Chili Peppers’ Californication coming from within, she might have thought no one was home. She raised her fist to pound harder when the door swung open.

  “Maisy?”

  Sam clutched the door as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “What are you doing here?”

  “Oh, Sam.” She swallowed her relief. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected him to look like when she found him. Certainly not this relaxed man who bore no resemblance to the haggard and angry man who had stood toe to toe with Zoom earlier today. He wore faded jeans and no shoes. She had the overwhelming urge to tackle him and never let him go.

  “I came as soon as I heard.”

  “Maisy, you shouldn’t be anywhere near Indianapolis.”

  “Who cares.” She launched herself at him. Staggering backward, he lifted her off her feet and pulled her close.

  When they came up for air, the front of his T-shirt was as wet as her dress. “You’re freezing.”

  “I’m fine,” she laughed.

  “Bull, you’re soaked through.” He grabbed a towel from a linen closet and wrapped it around her.

  She lowered her neck and enjoyed the towel massage he was giving. “I can’t believe Zoom fired you.”

  Sam rubbed the towel over her head and kissed her. “Technically it’s a suspension.” He said it as if they were discussing the rudiments of grammar, not his whole career.

  “The radio just said Zoom demanded your resignation.”

  He calmly blotted the ends of her hair until she couldn’t stay still anymore. She shook her hair like a shaggy dog. “It wasn’t your fault that the players are idiotic enough to think my clothes are good luck.”

  She marched into his living room, her shoes squelching along the marble tile. She kicked them off and kept going.

  While she paced the perimeter of his living room, he picked up her bag. “A bag? This is promising. Maisy, please put on some dry clothes.”

  Maisy was on her second lap of the room, the yellow dress clinging to her legs. “Be serious, Sam. You could probably sue over this. You had nothing to do with the players wearing my stuff.”

  “Maybe I should have kept the shoes. I could have used some good luck.” He gazed down at his bare feet. “Never mind. We don’t wear the same size.”

  She stopped in front of him and put her hands on her hips. “How can you joke about this? Your career is on the line.”

  He tossed the bag on the couch and pulled her toward him. “My career is always on the line.” Cupping her face, he explained, “That’s baseball, Maisy. Every time the team takes the field, my career is on the line. The players’, too. A fielding error, a slump, a player who shouldn’t have been brought up from the minors, a bad month, a losing season. It’s all the same for us. We’re out in a heartbeat. Although I will say, I may be the first manager to be fired over a ball gown.”

  “And me. You were fired for protecting me. I can’t live with that.”

  He lost his smile. “Hey. That was nonnegotiable. Kevin and the Turbos used you for way too long. And so did I.”

  “And exactly whose fault was that?” She lowered her head to his chest. “Mine. All mine. No one’s fault but my own.”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “I let it happen.”

  “You’re being way too hard on yourself.”

  “No, I’m not. I’m sick of everyone thinking I’m a victim of this.”

  “I never saw you as a victim at all. You’re more like a superhero to me.”

  That was one of the sweetest things she’d ever heard. But she knew he was just trying to make her feel better. Sam was always running around managing players and coaches and pleasing Zoom. Now he was trying to keep her from being hurt. But who protected him? She wished she could be the hero he thought she was.

  An idea suddenly popped into her head, but it was interrupted by Sam.

  “Maisy, I’m serious. These wet clothes have to go.” He plucked at her damp clothing, lifted the dress over her head. In the space of a second, all her plans were forgotten.

  Sam sent her a wicked smile. “Do you prefer the steamy shower or the large bathtub?”

  Maisy’s body was already warming up. “Would that bathtub happen to be big enough for two?”

  “Does it matter?”

  ***

  Never had a suspended manager felt so happy. Sam snaked his toe to the tap and turned the hot water on. The grin would never leave his face.

  “Very impressive for a man with a broken toe,” Maisy purred.

  “Impressive. I like that word, especially after—”

  “I meant that maneuver with your toe.” She giggled.

  He wiggled his other foot. “All healed.”

  “And your performance underwater.” Her comment earned her a slow and lazy kiss.

  Seeing her shivering in his doorway earlier had woken some primal instinct inside Sam. The last of his worries of baseball and his job had dissolved. Instead, the mission to warm her up had become the most important thing in the world. Of course, one thing had led to another…and another. Now, small plumes of steam caught the flickering candlelight and he used his toe again to shut off the water.

  He didn’t want to leave this tub. Ever.

  It turned out the large tub fit them both just fine. He’d managed to find an old, stubby candle he’d bought after an ice storm last winter when the building generator hadn’t worked. It rested on the ledge, right next to two wineglasses and a half-empty bottle of Chianti he’d been meaning to give to Tristan.

  He ran his hand along the nape of Maisy’s neck. She sighed. “That was a nice home run, Hunter.”

  “I’m just glad I didn’t strike out.”

  “No way, slugger! That one was out of the ballpark.”

  He celebrated, splashing her in the process. “Bam!”

  “You seem in an amazingly good mood considering…”

  “Considering what? I just got myself a home run.”

  She reached for her glass. Her breasts glistened in the light and he admired the line of her shoulders, her narrow waist and hips, and the cute little dimples above her bottom. She was splendid.

  He leaned forward to nuzzle her shoulder, but she dodged away.

  “We need to talk and you’re trying to distract me.”

  He caught her and pulled her close. “Says the biggest distraction in my life. I haven’t been able to concentrate on anything since I fi
rst saw you on that barstool drinking tequila and wiggling your—”

  She squealed when his hands cupped her under the water. “Sam! Stop. We need to talk about today. What are you going to do?”

  “I thought I just made it clear what I was going to do.” He flashed her a wicked grin. “How about a double header?”

  “I think we just maxed out our baseball metaphor quota.” She bit her lip, but the smile was there anyway. Curling into him, she said, “You are purposely avoiding the subject of your horrible day.”

  That sobered him by a small degree. He still couldn’t erase the memory of Maisy standing next to Charlie Zumaeta in the gymnasium this morning. It was a wonder she didn’t have any bruises from the emotional wrestling match the Turbos had put her through all summer.

  It was amazing that a woman could look so beautiful after all that. Her skin glowed and her dark eyes flickered in the candlelight. He smoothed a bead of water away from her eyebrow. “I seem to recall that it was a pretty tough day for you, too.”

  She took a long sip and leveled him with a gaze. “I’m not going to fall apart from all of this.”

  He emptied the rest of the bottle into her glass. “I never once thought you would, Miss Gray. But Zoom’s offer was devious, even for him. When I heard him ask the kids if they wanted a playground, I almost climbed over a little girl in a pink dress to get to him.”

  She giggled.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “A tight budget? That was a quick response.”

  “It’s true, but I felt like such a bastard. I hated to disappoint the kids.” God knew he had sent grown men back to the minors and laid off people who needed their jobs to support their families.

  Being a boss sucked. But disappointing kids was beyond his experience.

  “Don’t worry about the kids, Sam. Dr. Harding caught me after school and said an anonymous donor was paying for the playground and…” Her voice trailed off.

  Sam stole her glass and took a long sip. “I have another bottle in the kitchen. I just—”

  She put her hand on his and studied him. “Did anyone ever tell you that you suck at lying?”

  “Never. In fact, I think you mentioned I was a pretty good liar once.” He didn’t want her to be indebted to him. It would make him feel like Charlie Zumaeta.

  She slapped him on the chest. Half the glass spilled into the bath water. “Oh, my God, Sam! I can’t believe you did that!”

  Her dark eyes blazed in the candlelight. Her cheeks were flushed. Her breasts jutted out farther. The best tactic would be to make her forget the conversation. He leaned toward her to lick the water off the tops of her breasts.

  Dogs barking split the air. Maisy jumped.

  “My sister. She and my mom have called half a dozen times already. I told them not to worry.” It was true. He’d felt lighter and lighter with every step he’d taken away from the stadium. He hadn’t realized how much stress he had been under until it was gone.

  “Your poor family. They must be so worried,” Maisy said.

  “They know I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it for a long time.”

  She frowned. “You’ve been taking care of a lot of people along the way. Me included.”

  “You weren’t saying that in July.” He put the glass down and rubbed her earlobe.

  She tucked her shoulder under his arm and rested her hand on his chest. “Who takes care of you, Sam?”

  “Don’t worry about me, Maisy. I always manage to land on my feet. I’ll do it again. And besides, if this falls through, there are a lot of jobs in baseball.”

  Even as he said the words, Sam knew that wasn’t true. Being the GM of a major-league baseball team was the opportunity of a lifetime for someone his age.

  Worse than being fired was the way it had happened. If it were a simple issue of budget problems or too many games in the L column, he’d be able to write it off to youth and inexperience. This termination came with a long ladder to climb. For all his joking, he couldn’t erase the fact that he’d basically humiliated the organization and made a spectacle of the team.

  As sobering as all that was, the beautiful woman in his arms made up for everything. He angled his head to get a better look at her face. She was staring at the candle, her lips pressed firmly together as if she had made a decision. Hopefully it involved him and a bed and the promise of more time together.

  Together. It was a fine word. But there were better words than that.

  He’d always clung to a basic strategy whether on the field or off. Keep your head down. Don’t let them see your face. Don’t let them guess the pitch. For some reason, Sam had assumed relationships were the same. This one wasn’t.

  It was suddenly okay to show the signal. And it felt right because of that.

  “I love you, Maisy.” The words slipped from his lips easier than he’d imagined they would. He almost didn’t care if she didn’t feel the same way.

  He saw her startled face and added, “Hey, don’t feel like you have to answer. I’m not very good at this. And right now, I’m unemployed, so I’m not some great catch.”

  Her eyes grew wide and her mouth dropped open. Then she smiled. Something deep down inside him began to burn brightly.

  She curled her hand around his. “I love you, too, Sam.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  She knew she shouldn’t turn on the radio, but Maisy couldn’t help herself. Sam was gone, and she was impatiently waiting for Zoom to call her back. Hopefully he would reach her before Sam returned. Or the game started.

  “Today’s game is huge. I know you don’t want to give him credit right now, but Hunter did bring the team out of a rough patch. They went from last place in the Central Division to the top. With only a few more games left in season play, the Turbos need just a handful of wins to clinch the pennant.”

  “Luther, you’re full of it. It’s Fuzzy who brought us out of the dregs of the division. He’s got the experience and the steady hand that the Turbos needed.”

  While Luther McLean and the 97.1 DJ went at each other over the radio waves, Maisy stared at her phone, willing it to ring. She was torn between frustration and giddiness today.

  Since last night, her heart had lost all gravity. It floated on the power of three little words.

  Talk radio was still rattling on. Another soundbite played from an interview with Zoom. “Sam made the worst deal of his life when he took Maisy out of the game at this point in the season. The Turbos need their lucky girl back.”

  The discussion on talk radio had shifted to her. Instead of feeling the familiar twist in her gut, Maisy felt nothing but impatience. Come on, Zoom. Call.

  Sam and Maisy had woken up late this morning. They’d eaten breakfast in bed and later cuddled on the couch to read the paper. Maisy had made a big show of grabbing the sports section and tossing it in the trash. Sam didn’t seem to mind. But she’d noticed how he kept an eye on the trash can.

  When the rain stopped, Sam had announced he was going to go for a run. She’d encouraged him to take his time. Now she sat with the sports section she had fished out of the trash in her lap and her ear to the radio.

  Luther was defending Sam. “I’ve got a lot of respect for the man. Before getting sidelined, Sam was driven. His energy and ambition outweighed his youthfulness. I worry that if we go back to the rank and file, we’ll lose the edge he brought to the team.”

  “Yes,” Maisy said out loud. Luther McLean was a jerk, but he was a smart one.

  Her phone went off. Before she could say anything, Zoom said, “I need you at that game today, Maisy.”

  She couldn’t help a little sarcasm. “Why? Did someone throw away my lucky dress?”

  “The fans want you there. Forget what Hunter said about the budget. If we win the pennant, my World Series donut will sell like crazy. I’ll bu
ild that playground and a whole new school if that’s what it takes to get you there.”

  “There’s only one way to get me back to the ballpark, Zoom.”

  “Name it and we’ve got a deal.”

  After she spoke to Zoom, she hastily penned a note telling Sam she was going to spend the afternoon with Heather’s mother and she would be back by dinner. Technically she hadn’t lied. Heather’s mother was at the game. Somewhere out in the lower box seats.

  She made it to the owner’s suite without being recognized. Zoom met her at the door. His hair was a mess. His tie was tackier than normal. For all his cockiness, the man was nervous.

  “Glad to see you know a good offer when you hear it.”

  “I was going to say the same to you,” she said.

  “I didn’t even know you and Sam were friends or…” He jerked his head up as if it had just occurred to him that there was something more to Maisy’s request. “Wait a minute. Is it true? You and Kevin can’t get back together if you’re with Sam.”

  Maisy rolled her eyes and entered the suite. Tristan was sitting by himself at a high-top table, scrolling through his phone. When he looked up, he broke into a huge smile.

  He jumped up and hugged her. “Maisy!” Then, embarrassed, he stepped back. “I really am so sorry. It’s all my fault that your things ended up in the Turbos clubhouse.”

  She put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m okay. But my friend Heather is going to be upset if the dress is all stretched out.”

  “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t let them try it on. It would have ripped for sure. Although it looked great on me.” He grinned.

  “We’ll have to get a vote and see who wore it best.” She squeezed his arm.

  Zoom was already in place at the front row of the outside seats. He waved frantically. “Come on out, Maisy.”

  Taking a deep breath, Maisy made her way to the balcony seats. The Chicago White Sox and the Turbos lined the field, hats on their chests. The first strains of the national anthem played.

  The building excitement and jittery nerves were as familiar to her as the first day of school. The earthy tang of roasted peanuts combined with the pungent aroma of hot dogs and mustard. The old-fashioned organ music pumped through the stadium, bringing a sense of living history to the game, while the newer jumbotron and the pop songs in between made everyone happy. The hair stood up on the back of her neck at the beauty of it all.