Ogling the Outfielder (All's Fair in Love & Baseball Book 4)

by Arlene Hittle

  Thank God none of the seats were occupied at the moment. Caroline probably herded the others out for coffee or something, just to give Alex some privacy.

  Alex sighed. She’d miss Caro almost as much as she would Sam. But she was willing to sacrifice so Sam could keep playing the game he loved.

  She shoved office supplies and photographs into an empty copy paper box as she blinked back tears. Her leaving was for the best. She’d find a better, more challenging job somewhere else. And someday—maybe—she’d forget the spectacular Sam Sloane.

  Liar. Failure. Major screw-up.

  She ignored her conscience’s whispered insults, instead choosing to focus on the good. It’d been way too long since she’d visited her parents. Now she had all the free time she needed to trek to Iowa. She might even get some use out of that long-neglected burgundy dress, seeing as how her father would no doubt insist she wear it to church.

  ****

  Sam trudged back to the dugout after his second strikeout of the game. He braced himself for the criticism his manager was sure to heap on his shoulders. Not that he didn’t deserve it. He’d been falling far short of his personal standards—and those of the Condors—for a week. Five games now, he’d been an embarrassment to the uniform he loved to wear.

  “Sloane, what the hell is wrong with you?”

  Jerry’s bark, while expected, still stung. He shrugged. “Been asking myself that same question, Coach.”

  “Well, figure it out!”

  Sam nodded and sidled past Jerry. He didn’t need to spend a day navel-gazing to know what bothered him. Every time he caught a glimpse of Connie the Condor capering on the sidelines, he was reminded of Alex. Of his cowardice. Of the fact he still had a job while she did not.

  He vowed to corner Caroline after the game. If he knew where Alexa was, what she was doing, and how she was holding up, he might be able to get his head back in the game. She hadn’t returned his repeated calls, though—and when he swung by her apartment yesterday, she hadn’t answered the door. Her car wasn’t in the complex’s parking lot, either.

  Maybe he could convince Caroline to talk. With Alex avoiding him, cornering Caroline was his best option.

  At the postgame party, he spotted Alex’s friend in line at the bar. She was focused solely on Chris, whose arm draped casually over her shoulders.

  Shit. Somehow, he’d have to separate them. He could imagine the locker room jokes if Christian heard him asking after Alex. He didn’t mind people knowing they were an item—but his temper was shorter these days. No way did he have enough patience to deal with the how the mighty have fallen shit. And getting into brawl with a teammate would land him back in the news.

  He waited until they’d gotten their beers and then strolled up to the couple. Up close, they looked even more besotted. He’d be lucky if he could coax the woman’s eyes away from Chris’ face.

  Sam cleared his throat. “Hey, Chris, mind if I borrow Caroline for a few minutes?”

  “Get your own girl, Sloane.”

  Caroline rolled her eyes and slapped Chris’ arm off her shoulders. “Don’t be stupid, Chris.” Beer in hand, she headed for the hallway. When he didn’t immediately follow, she turned around. “Are you coming?”

  He shook off his surprise and rushed to catch up.

  That was easy. Perhaps too easy? Maybe this was exactly what Alex wanted.

  He grunted. He had no idea how to play the mind games that came with a serious relationship.

  The faint pulse of music followed them into the hall, more or less muffled depending on whether the door to the party suite swung closed or open.

  Caroline’s gaze was sharp. “I’m surprised it’s taken you this long.”

  “What?”

  “You’re a slacker, Sloane. I figured you’d hit me up for info about Alex days ago.”

  “Hey!” He felt a need to defend himself. “I only found out she was gone yesterday.”

  “Slacker,” Caroline muttered under her breath. Aloud she said, “She doesn’t want to be found, you know. Swears it’s better for you if you don’t know where she is.”

  “Well, Alexa has a warped sense of what’s best.”

  “She thinks you’ll play better if you stop pining over her.”

  Sam snorted. “Has she seen my last couple of games?”

  “Where she is?” Caroline giggled. “Doubtful.”

  “And where is that?”

  Caroline’s dark head snapped up. Her eyes were slits. “Why should I tell you?”

  “Because I can’t stop thinking about Alex?”

  Her eyes somehow managed to narrow even more. Hmm. He obviously needed to be more clear.

  “I miss Alex, Caroline.” He took a deep breath and groped for the right words. “The week we’ve been apart feels more like a month. Maybe even a year.”

  Caroline crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against the wall. “Keep talking.”

  What else could he say to convince her? Now was not the time to hold anything back. “Alex is…the thing I didn’t know I needed to make my life whole. Everything before her was a blur, and now everything’s in focus. I lov—”

  Caroline’s eyes popped wide, and she hurtled herself upright to interrupt him. “Save your true confessions for the woman who needs to hear them, Sloane.”

  “Does that mean you’re going to tell me where she is?” He held his breath, anticipating the big reveal.

  “She’s at her folks’ farm in Iowa.”

  Iowa? So Alex was a Midwestern girl. The fact didn’t surprise him one bit. The effortlessness of dropping the L-word was more of a shock—yet he’d been about to confess his feelings for Alex to her best friend. Strangely, he had no problem with that. “Iowa’s a big state. I need a little more to go on.”

  “Outside Dexter.”

  “Dexter, Iowa? Never heard of it.”

  “Not surprising.” Caroline sniffed. “It’s barely a wide spot in the road. I bet Alex is bored out of her mind.”

  Well, that would soon change if he had anything to say about it. “Thanks, Caroline.”

  “My pleasure.” A perfectly manicured pointer finger jabbed his sternum. “But if you do anything to make me regret full disclosure, I will make you wish Mr. Schmidt was the biggest pain in your ass.”

  “I don’t doubt it for a minute.” He met and held the petite dynamo’s eyes. “Alexa Brandon is one of the best parts of my life.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “Only one of them?”

  “Baseball’s pretty great, too.”

  “That’s the problem, Sloane. Alex knows the game is more important to you than anything.” She scowled and tapped her temple. “Think about it. Why else would she sacrifice her job to save your sorry hide?”

  With that, Caroline flounced past him and back into the party. He stayed in the hallway, staring at the closed door and wondering what in the hell had just happened. More importantly, how could he convince Alex she meant more to him than the game he loved?

  Sam mulled the question as he drove back to his place and looked up directions to Dexter, Iowa. The drive took almost twenty-one hours, so if he left now… While he was shoving clean clothes and underwear into a duffel bag in preparation, his phone rang.

  He’d been expecting this call ever since he and Alex hit the papers. “Hi, Mom. Took you long enough.”

  “Don’t be so cheeky, Samuel. I just got back from my cruise.”

  Another cruise? “Where to this time?”

  “The Bahamas. Again. Your Aunt Christie and I had a great time.”

  “Glad to hear it.” He ran through a mental checklist and, satisfied he had everything he needed, zipped his bag. “Mom, you caught me at a bad time. Can we talk later?”

  “This won’t take long, Sam. Just answer me one thing: Is it true what they put in the papers?”

  He closed his eyes in an attempt to block out the disappointment in her voice. Then he resigned himself to having a conversation he so did not w
ant to have. “You know those reports always have a germ of truth. Their way of protecting themselves from lawsuits.”

  Silence stretched between them until she broke it. “Sam, I thought you promised to stay out of trouble.”

  “I did.”

  “Yet you’re back in the news with some new floozy. What were you thinking? I raised you better than to take up with every slut who shakes a shapely bottom at you.”

  Sam’s anger rose, quick and sharp. “Mom! Alex is no slut.”

  “I find that hard to believe.”

  He bit back a sharp retort. His mother needed no more ammunition to label him cheeky. “I know the kind of woman you’ve gotten used to me hanging out with. Trust me when I say Alex is nothing like that.”

  “So what you’re saying is that she’s special?”

  “Well”—he considered for the barest of moments—“Yeah.”

  “It’s about time!” His mother’s triumphant laughter rang in his ear. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited for you to settle down and start giving me grandchildren.”

  “Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea.” After all, she rarely passed up an opportunity to bring up the subject. If he had a dollar for every time his hypothetical children toddled around the playground, their blond hair flying in the summer breeze, he could afford to buy the Condors from the Schmidt brothers. “Don’t get too excited yet, though. I’m not sure she’ll have me.”

  She sniffed. “Any woman who doesn’t love my son is crazy.”

  “What if she loves me too much?”

  “What does that even mean, Samuel? When it comes to love, there’s no such thing as too much.”

  He launched into the story, telling his mother everything. How they met. How they couldn’t keep their hands to themselves. How Alex let Schmidt fire her so he could keep his job.

  “So she made a sacrifice for you. Sam, that’s what you do for the people you love.”

  “Mom, she obviously thinks baseball is more important to me than she is.”

  Her answer was swift. “Show her she’s wrong, Sammy. Show her she’s wrong.”

  He hoped he knew how to do that.

  ****

  “I forgot about this traffic,” Alex grumbled to no one in particular. As usual, she was alone.

  Better get used to it.

  Alone and lonely weren’t the same thing, right?

  The thought stumbled and, when Alex refused to prop it up with the proper acknowledgment, thudded to the ground and rolled around, clutching its injured knee. She was never more ruthless with herself than immediately after therapy.

  Because the road was pin-straight and her car crawled along at less than ten mph, Alex felt safe enough to close her eyes for a moment or two. Four cars up the line, a tractor held up the traffic on P53, the road that ran past her parents’ place.

  The jingle of her cellphone, on the seat beside her, forced her eyes open again. She reached for it and then dropped it again when she read the display.

  Sam. Damn him. He was in Phoenix, where he needed to be, and she was here in Iowa, more than a thousand miles away. Why couldn’t he see it was better this way?

  In the distance, the tractor turned off the road into a field. Immediately, the line of cars picked up speed. Alex checked the clock on her dashboard. Good. She might still make it back to the farm in time to catch lunch with the farmhands.

  Her mother’s lunches were legendary among the workers in Dallas County, thanks to the hearty sandwiches and soups, stunning salads, and prize-winning cookies, cakes, and pies on the table.

  Not that she had much of an appetite. This trouble with Sam had her stomach in perpetual knots. The damn man would not stop calling her, no matter how many of his calls she ignored.

  How long would it take for him to get the message?

  Maybe you should reconsider the message you’re sending. Why do you insist on being so selfish?

  Selfish? Hardly. She avoided Sam for his benefit. What could be more selfless than that?

  Or are you avoiding him because you’re afraid to open up?

  She tightened her grip on the steering wheel and wondered if it was time to find a new therapist. That wasn’t the same as running from the truth, right?

  When the phone rang again, Alex was tempted not to check it. Even if she did pick up, no way she could talk to Sam when she felt so vulnerable. But when she glanced at the caller ID, her mother’s number showed up, not Sam’s.

  She ignored a sting of disappointment. Ridiculous to feel let down when she’d just been thinking she wished he’d stop calling. Good thing she never claimed to be rational. “Hi, Mom. I’m ten minutes from home. What’s up?”

  “That’s ten minutes too long.”

  The voice that rumbled in her ear damn sure wasn’t her mother’s. Adrenaline flooded her limbs, and she lowered her foot on the gas. “Whoever you are, don’t you dare hurt my mother!”

  “Alex, calm down.”

  That was her mother—and she sounded unhurt. “Mom? Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, dear.”

  “Then what—or who—was that?”

  “I’m disappointed you don’t recognize me, Alex.” The male voice again.

  The way he said her name, she knew without a doubt who it was. “Sam?”

  “In the flesh, darlin’.”

  “But—” Questions danced through her head, a thousand of them all at once. How did he find her? Why wasn’t he with his team? Did Schmidt authorize the trip, or would he be livid? “How—”

  “Let’s save the dashboard confessional until we’re in the same room.”

  The thought of being in a room with Sam revved her pulse, and her breath caught. “The driveway’s a quarter-mile up the road. I’ll be there before you know it.”

  “Do hurry, Alex,” her mother urged. “This nice young man is too polite to eat before you return.”

  “Uh, Mom, you do realize this is the same ‘nice young man’ my name was all over the tabloids for being with, right?”

  “I’m not blind, dear.” Her mother’s voice held mild disapproval, as if she were insulted Alex had asked. “I recognized Sam the minute he hopped out of his cute hybrid car.”

  “And you still let him in the house?”

  “Don’t be such a drama queen, Alexa Marie.”

  Alex turned into her parents’ gravel driveway and started the long, slow trek to the house. Vehicles couldn’t take the pothole-filled track faster than about five mph, so no matter how eager she was to make it to the house, she didn’t dare rush.

  Truth was, she was glad for the slow crawl; it gave her a chance to gather her scattered thoughts. Sam was in Iowa. In her parents’ living room. And apparently her mother was on his side.

  This ought to be interesting.

  Chapter Eleven

  Through the Brandon farmhouse’s big bay window, Sam watched Alex exit her car and mount the steps. His heart beat double time when she took the stairs two at a time. Maybe she was as eager to be in the same room with him as he was to see her.

  Alex’s mother, Alexandria, who’d hugged him and told him to call her Dria, stood at his side. She nudged his shoulder. “That’s the most animated I’ve seen her all week.”

  “I want to thank you again for not greeting me at the door with a shotgun.” He’d expected at least some hostility toward the man who’d dragged a nice girl through the muck of bad press, not an older version of Alex offering to serve him sun tea and chocolate cake.

  “Please. Give us some credit. We’re not naive enough to think those rags print the truth and nothing but.”

  The door swung open, and Alex bounded through the doorway, her uncertain smile at odds with her eager steps. Arms outstretched in welcome, Sam stepped forward to meet her.

  She halted. Her gaze darted from him to her mother.

  A long-suffering sigh sounded behind him. “Give the man a hug, Alexa. He’s come an awfully long way to see you.”

  Alex nodded and
let him wrap his arms around her. After a scant moment of resistance, she threw her arms around his neck and melted against him.

  Sam barely stifled a groan. “Feels good to hold you again, Alex.”

  The fact her cheek was glued to his chest didn’t stop her head from wobbling yes.

  “I’ll just let you two have a moment to yourselves.” Humming what sounded like “I Think We’re Alone Now,” Dria swept out of the living room, leaving him alone with her daughter.

  Sam stood still, relishing the feel of having Alex in his arms, until she tipped her head up to look at him with eyes filled with tears.

  Panic filled him. She was supposed to be happy, dammit. They both were. If anyone deserved happiness after a storm, it was them. “Why are you crying? Us together in the same room is a good thing.”

  “You and I might think so, but what about Mr. Schmidt?” Hiccups racked her body. “I’ll lose all self-respect if I let you sacrifice your future for me.”

  He hugged her tighter. Maybe if he held on tight enough, she’d realize he’d never let go. “Dan and I have reached an agreement.”

  “Y-you h-have? Really?”

  “Really. He understands the team’s crazy drunk uncle needs you nearby to turn in optimal performances.” He’d never admit that coming to persuade Alex to come back instead of playing in today’s game had cost him $25K. A tiny price tag for the privilege of having her at his side. “He’s willing to give you your job back—on one condition.”

  Her eyes were now dry—and sparkling with interest. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

  “You’d better sit down first.” Sam guided her to the couch, and when she sat, he dropped down on one knee. He fished a black velvet jeweler’s box out of his back pocket and flipped it open. “Alexa Brandon, marry me.”

  Her jaw dropped, and fresh tears welled up in her eyes. “Sam, no!”

  “You said no?” The refusal took him by surprise, and, off-balance, he landed on his ass.

  “I can’t marry you for our boss.” She clasped her hands together and pressed them between her knees. “Frankly, I’m insulted you asked. It’s like our relationship is only acceptable if we’re engaged.”