by Kathryn Shay
“Hush your mouth, or I’ll never get out of here.”
She grinned at him. He grinned at her.
Reluctantly, he made himself leave her house.
Chapter 8
“You’re pretty self-confident to take me here,” Mike said. He’d returned from Atlanta by noon, and the rest of the day and evening were free to be with her.
Inside the chain link fence, holding the bat expertly, she glanced over at him. “Why? I don’t expect to win.”
Which was foreign to him. A lot of things about her were. Her easy affection. Her willingness to compromise. She even missed her beloved Lions’ game to attend one of his.
She swung and hit a beauty.
“Wow, you are good.”
She stuck her tongue out in a very un-princess-like manner. “Told you.”
His turn came up. Planning to go easy on her, he walked into the batting cage. But when he took his stance, despite his decision, he hit what would have been a home run. She cupped her hands and yelled, “Great goin’, Jag.”
They finished at the cages about three. Walking to the car arm in arm, he experienced a sense of peace which also was foreign to him. They were chatting away when he heard, “Evangelina?”
She stopped. Turned around. “Oh, hi, Brock.” She smiled at the girl with him. “Hello, I’m Evvie.”
“Daddy told me about you. You play softball.”
“I do.”
Since she didn’t introduce them, Mike put out his hand to the other guy. He was okay-looking, if somewhat older than Evvie was. “Mike Jagielski.”
The child’s eyes widened. “The player who hit Evvie with a baseball?”
“That isn’t my only claim to fame, I hope.” He was trying to be friendly and not jump to conclusions about this guy.
“Nah,” Brock said. “You’re a legend.”
“Thanks.”
“Ready, Dad?” his daughter asked.
“Sure.” He touched Evvie’s arm. “I hope to hear from you soon. You still have my card?”
Mike stiffened.
“Um, yes. I do. Good to see you again.”
He didn’t speak until they reached the car, and she halted next to the passenger side before they got inside. The sun was hot and bright, but he knew there were thunderclouds on his face. He didn’t touch her.
“Are you angry, Mike?”
Emotions swirled inside him. “No. I don’t know. Are you seeing someone else?”
She stared up at him with wide, innocent eyes. “I had one date with Brock before the gala. None since. He wanted another but I didn’t call him.”
The insecurity he’d carried with him his whole life battered to get out. “Will you see him again?”
“You and I never talked about exclusivity.”
“We didn’t.”
Impatience tightened her mouth. “Just tell me what you want!”
He blurted out words he never said before. “I don’t want you near any other guy.”
“All right. I can do that.” She peered at him knowingly. “Was that so hard? Admitting what you want.”
Blowing out a heavy breath, he said, “Terrifying is a better word. For my whole childhood, it was easier not to say what I wanted, even think about what I wanted, because when I didn’t get it, I wouldn’t be so hurt.”
Now, sadness filled those eyes he was coming to love. “Did that work?”
“No.”
She went up on tiptoes and kissed his lips. “Thank you for coming clean.” She gave him a sideways look. “You do know exclusivity goes both ways, right?”
“I do.” He whirled her around.
She giggled and hugged him close.
* * *
The next day, Evvie walked into Mike’s house for the first time. In a residential development, the structure had its own gate and was nestled into a treed yard with neighbors a good distance away. They climbed the steps to the front door. “Here we are, ma’am. My humble abode.”
When she walked inside, she murmured, “This is anything but humble.” The ceiling soared upward in the foyer, graced by skylights and a modern chandelier of chrome-and-glass globes. The steps curled around into a tiger-tail oak staircase and sported gleaming railings.
“Your home is lovely.”
“Thanks.”
She faced him. “Does it get lonely?”
“The house?”
“Yeah, it’s so big.”
“After fans screaming in your eardrums all night, I crave the quiet.”
She nodded.
The tour included a huge living room with equally impressive appointments: skylights, light wood, modern décor. When they got to the kitchen, Evvie gasped. “You could play a game in here.”
“It’s not that big.” He folded his arms over his chest and took a bead on her. “Isn’t the kitchen in the place you grew up this size?”
“Larger, actually. But a lot of people work there.” She ran her hand along the edge of the stovetop on the island. “Do you cook?”
“Breakfast. Lunch out. I have a housekeeper who comes in and tidies up, makes dinner for me to have later, does laundry.”
“At the palace, we always loved the one day a week Mamá and Papá gave the staff off and we were all alone together.”
“Staff?”
“Cleaners, cooks, laundry people. The guards were always there, but they stayed outside.”
“I can’t imagine your life.”
She went to the wall of windows facing the back and the golf course. “Ah, golf. An American obsession. Now that game I never understood.”
“It’s soothing to watch somebody else play, but participating doesn’t appeal to me either.”
She closed the distance between them. He wore a light cotton navy T-shirt and shorts, she a yellow camisole and capris. They were both sweaty from the humid eighty-plus degree weather of July. “What does appeal to you on your night free this week?”
He grabbed her roughly around the waist and kissed her soundly. “You, Evangelina. Just you.”
Later, after lovemaking so tender and sweet it made her eyes moist, they turned on an afternoon baseball channel. As the announcer droned in the background, Evvie picked up her phone and Mike grabbed his laptop to check his email. She called up the MLB website and clicked into the All-Star Game.
“Hmm.”
“What are you doing over there?”
“Checking out the All-Star Stats. You have your work cut out for you.”
“Hey, you’ll get to see me play against Luke again.”
She glanced over at him, slouching against the headboard, in all his male beauty. His torso had gotten tanned some time before they met, and she could see a white line begin at his waist where the sheet slipped some. He looked delicious.
“I’m wearing my Prescott jersey.”
He didn’t take his gaze away from his computer. “The hell you are. You’re wearin’ mine.”
“We’ll see.”
Lightning-quick, he set his laptop down and was on her in seconds. Her phone fell to the mattress. “Take it back.”
“No.”
He tickled her.
Then his hands started to roam. Soon, they both forgot about the All-Star Game.
* * *
Mike was a sap. Problem was, he didn’t know what to do about a condition that made him jittery and joyful at the same time. Here he was at the MLB All-Star Game in his own freaking stadium; the arena opened this year, so it had been chosen to host the contest. And instead of basking in the glory, which had always been so important to him, he searched the significant other section for Evvie. When she caught him looking, she waved, and his heart did a somersault in his chest.
“Hell, you got it bad.” Luke had jogged over to him; both teams were warming up on the field.
Mike shook his head.
“You do. And it’s good to see. Where is she?”
“In the significant other section.”
“Seriously?”
>
“Yep and this time, she’s wearin’ my jersey. Not yours.”
The players were called to the dugout, and Mike listened to the announcer talk. “Welcome, fans, to the annual All-Star Game here at the new Raiders Stadium. This game started in 1933, and the players out here tonight join the ranks of Hank Aaron, Willy Mays and Cal Ripken. Chosen by their fans, their managers or their coaches, they represent the best in baseball. Without further ado, I’ll introduce them to you. First the American League...”
When the Nationals were called, Mike headed the lineup. He ran out to the field and scanned the stands again. Evvie whistled for him. It made him grin.
* * *
Evvie was filled with warmth as Mike headed to third base. Once again, he seemed big and tall and beautiful in his Raiders uniform and an All-Star cap on his head. The woman next to her, who’d arrived late, leaned over. “Hi, I’m Carrie Michaels. We met at Lucy’s restaurant.”
“Oh, you’re here for Luke.”
“Yeah, and I’m drooling over him, I’ll tell you that.”
“He’s gorgeous.”
“You were on a date with another guy when I met you, yet here you are.”
“Uh-huh. That was before I started seeing Mike.”
She raised her brows. “The Jag?”
“He’s fun and interesting, and I’m enjoying his company.”
Someone behind her, who must have eavesdropped said, “If his track record’s any indication, you won’t be here long.”
The woman’s mean remark hurt, but Evvie tried to ignore it and enjoy the play.
* * *
Mike was riding high as his home run proved to be the game- winner. Proved, like the Home Run Derby had last night, that he was the best in the league. When he entered the Raiders locker room, everybody clapped. With Evvie waiting outside for him, could life get any better?
“Party still on at your house?” one guy asked.
“Yeah,” Mike said easily. “I invited some American League guys, too.”
“Whoopee. We can razz the shit out of ‘em.”
“All right,” Mike called out as captain. “Let’s gather around Coach.”
Their coach tonight was a real popular guy from New York. Even so, earlier, they’d doused him with gallons of Gatorade, and he was still soaked from the sticky liquid. Mike knew how hard that stuff was to get out of hair.
Amidst the camaraderie, the “Hey did you see that fly Jimmy caught” and “Hitting up a storm, Jag,” comments, Mike relished his time of celebration. All the while, though, he savored the fact that Evvie was just outside.
* * *
“Hey, babe!” He grabbed Evvie around the waist and kissed her head. She welcomed the embrace.
“Hey.”
When he set her down, he cocked his head. “What’s wrong?”
“Wrong?”
“Yeah, you seem upset.”
“Are you kidding? I love this game. This is my third time here.”
He looped his arm over her shoulders as they walked toward his car. “But this year was the best, right?”
Leaning into him, she took in his woodsy scent, so familiar now, and it comforted her. “Yeah, Mike. This year was the best.”
“And we have the All-Star break tomorrow and the next day.”
“I know.”
An hour later at his house, which was packed with too many people, she went into the laundry room to get some clean towels for the downstairs bathroom. From the corridor, she heard, “I know. She’s so girl-next-door. I can’t fathom what The Jag is doing with her.”
“Playing around. That’s what he always does.”
“Yeah, but he usually flits from one woman to another. I’ve seen her with him before.”
Again, Evvie’s heart sank. She never used to mind being the girl next door.
During the night, her mood worsened. She’d had no time with Mike, which was okay because he was the host, but she needed to touch base. She went to the patio. The warm air was stifling, and she wondered why people were outside. She found Mike amidst the crowd, holding a beer and holding...court with four beautiful women around him.
“Tell us about that, Jag.”
“Oh, you’re so cute, Mike.”
“Sure you won’t do shots with us?”
Evvie didn’t stick around to see if he drank shots. She grabbed her purse and her overnight bag from the back closet and left through the garage, hoping no one would see her escape the party.
At the top of the driveway, she heard, “Where you going, Evvie?” Luke Prescott came out of the shadows.
She swallowed hard, trying to keep her composure. “I’m not feeling well. I called an Uber because I didn’t want to disturb Mike.”
“Disturb him? He looked for you constantly in the stands during the game.”
“Oh.” Her voice got shaky. “I need to go.”
“I can give you a ride, but you should talk to him first.”
“No thanks. The Uber is only a few minutes away. I’ll be fine once I can stretch out.”
“Evvie...”
She fled down the blacktop, went through the gate and waited for her ride to arrive. When the car pulled up, she got in and left the All-Star party she’d so looked forward to.
* * *
When Mike finally got away from those women—who the hell had they come with, anyway?—he went in search of Evvie. He walked through the kitchen...no Evvie. Through the living room...no Evvie. She wasn’t downstairs. He climbed the back steps and went to his bedroom. She was not here.
He took out his phone. Called her number. No answer. Dumbfounded, he bumped into Luke in the upstairs hallway which was open to the first floor. Noise, laughter and the smell of booze wafted up to them. “Hey, buddy. Have you seen Evvie?”
“Yeah, I was taking a breather in front of the house, the only place I could be alone. She came out and said she didn’t feel well and took an Uber home.”
“You let her go alone?”
“Easy, cowboy. I offered her a ride, and she practically ran away from me.”
He fished for the keys in his pocket. “I’m going after her.”
Luke grabbed his arm. “Mike, this is your house, your party. You can’t leave now. Besides, you’ve been drinking.”
Mike looked over the railing at his guests. The crowd here was huge, and loud and annoying. Nevertheless, Luke was right. He couldn’t go after Evvie.
Chapter 9
The morning after the All-Star Game, Evvie awoke with a splitting headache. During the night, she’d tossed and turned for hours, worried about her relationship with Mike, and gotten only a couple of hours of sleep. Finally, she dragged herself to the kitchen and made coffee, which helped her wake up. As she sat in her breakfast nook, staring out at the woods beyond her yard, the events at the party after the game threatened to overcome her. And niggling in the back of her mind was that she might have overreacted. That possibility made her throat clog.
Picking up her phone, she clicked into her texts. Several from Mike popped up on screen: Honey, where are you?... Baby, why’d you leave?... Evvie, text or call me back! The rest got increasingly impatient. Then they stopped.
Another message caught her eye. Hi, sis. I know this is spur of the moment, but can you meet me in town today? I’ve got another consultation at Parkers, and would love to see you afterward for brunch.
Evvie jumped at the chance. She’d planned to spend the next thirty-six hours with Mike before he left for a series in Pennsylvania. Now, the thought of being by herself all day long was unpalatable. Avoiding food because her stomach churned like a washing machine, she dressed, called a cab to take her to the nearest Metro station, then rode the public transportation into town. She walked the short distance from the stop to one of the most prestigious art galleries in Baltimore. She was determined to put up an excited front at the prospect of Raven snaring an art show at Parkers.
Because she was too early to meet her sister, she decided to go
inside the museum to browse the collection. It was a free day, but she left a hefty donation for them.
In the hushed atmosphere of the first room, she noted that the exhibits were representational, showing people and things as if they’d been photographed. Why would Raven’s painting be featured here? A reviewer had written that her sister was defining a new kind of post-modern art.
Evvie stopped in front of a familiar portrait of a woman, her head covered like a nun, staring out at the artist. The painter was Johannes Vermeer, from the seventeenth century. Definitely different from Raven’s work.
Evvie liked the art, though, and by sheer force of will, was able to blank her mind and enjoy her tour through several rooms. At one point, she passed by a new wing, still under construction. She read the sign: Modern Art Collection Opening soon. Ah, that explained Parkers’ interest in Raven. It’d be cool if her sister, only twenty-four, got the very first modern-art exhibition at a gallery as well-known as this one.
Not far from the new wing, she came upon the offices. Dropping down into a chair against the wall in the corridor, Evvie checked her phone again. No word from Mike this morning. Parties like his last night lasted well into the wee hours, he’d told her, so he probably wasn’t even awake yet.
A door opened and two people came out of an office.
“There’s my sister.” Raven approached her, dressed in her signature summery black pants with a light red shirt over a black tank. Around her neck she’d looped a red and black scarf that she’d hand-painted. Her hair had grown out to her shoulders and softened the features of her face.
“Hi, Evvie. Let me introduce you to the gallery owner, Blake Parker. Blake, my sister Evangelina.”
“Ms. Marcello, nice to meet you.” The man was a head taller than Raven. Diametrically opposed to her sister’s outfit, he wore a lightweight gray suit, tailored to fit his long, lean body. Shiny black wingtips graced his feet. His hair was styled in a precise cut. And those eyes—they had the blackest pupils she’d ever seen, circled by bright green, then circled by darker green.