The Lucky Charm (The Portland Pioneers)

by Beth Bolden

  Jack readjusted his batting gloves and stared down the machine again, willing it to throw something he couldn’t handle. Just once. If only to prove Izzy hadn’t turned his hands to gold.

  “You being just friends with this woman isn’t healthy,” Foxy finally said. “You need to get some fucking perspective.”

  “What are you, a psychologist all of a sudden? Jesus.”

  “Tell her you’re done being just friends. If she turns you down again, then you can stop wasting your time.”

  If only it were that easy, Jack thought as his bat connected with another ball.

  “But we are friends,” he finally said. “I can’t just stop being her friend because I want more. That wouldn’t be fair to either of us.”

  “Meanwhile, you’re about to die of sexual frustration,” Noah pointed out.

  “Nobody ever died from a little frustration,” Jack said with a lot more authority than he actually felt. He’d lain awake much of the night, imagining despite all his good intentions what it would have been like if he hadn’t pulled away. Her lips soft on his. His fingers threading through her dark, silky hair. The slender figure that he’d been practically dying to put his hands on. He’d been a saint for the last three weeks but he wasn’t about to push and risk losing her completely. He knew he could take it because Izzy deserved his patience. She was worth that and a lot more.

  “Here I’d thought you’d forgotten about me completely,” Charlie teased.

  “It was three weeks of hell,” Izzy said and she was mostly being honest. Of course, she wasn’t about to confess that without a certain second baseman it would have been so much worse.

  “That bad, huh?”

  Izzy leaned back in her desk chair, so glad to be home. It had been heaven sleeping in her own bed last night—so wonderful that she’d almost forgotten to care that Jack wasn’t sharing it.

  Almost.

  “Honestly? It was horrible. I don’t know how people do this for a living, for years on end,” she confessed.

  “If you were so bored, you could have called,” Charlie pointed out and she flushed guiltily, hating that she was about to lie to him. But she couldn’t exactly tell him the truth either.

  Charlie would never betray her to Mitch, but even his disappointment was more than she could handle.

  “I was busy,” she improvised. Badly.

  It didn’t even take Charlie five seconds to see right through her terrible excuse. “Bullshit,” he barked. “Tell me what’s going on, Iz.”

  She just cringed. “It’s nothing, really. Just having one of the guys teach me a little about baseball.” Even put that way, as nonchalantly harmless as she could make it, it sounded bad.

  “One of the guys? You mean one of the players.” Charlie’s voice rose and disapproval practically dripped from it. “Izzy, you know better.”

  “I know, I do. But honestly, he’s just a friend. Only a friend.”

  “You think the job you have now is bad, but if you compromise your journalistic integrity, Mitch will fire you so fast you won’t even get to blink. And then he’ll make sure you never work in the field again.”

  Charlie didn’t have to say that all it had taken was a heart attack that wasn’t even a heart attack, and he’d been pushed out of his job. She’d had to watch and had promised herself then that she’d never give Mitch the leverage to do the same to her. And here she was, practically gifting it to him.

  “I’ve been careful. Nobody knows. Nobody will know.”

  “All it takes is one guy, bragging to one of his friends in the locker room and suddenly, everyone knows.”

  Izzy’s throat closed and she had to blink back tears. The disappointment in Charlie’s voice was worse than anything she’d ever imagined. “He wouldn’t do that. And there’s nothing to tell.”

  Charlie just sighed and she could feel the gust through the phone, imagined him standing before her, disapproval radiating out of every pore of his body. He’d always been tough on her—fair, but tough—and when she’d complained once he’d said that potential was a terrible thing to waste.

  He didn’t have to tell her that she was in danger of wasting hers now. So she changed the subject.

  “How’s your diet going?”

  He only groaned. “Worse than your road trip. Way worse.”

  “And the exercise?”

  “I still can’t talk about it. The wounds are too fresh.”

  “But you are doing it, right? The doctor…”

  “The doctor was clear enough, Isabel,” Charlie interrupted her. “I remember what he said. And I’m trying.”

  The joy she’d felt at being home only ten minutes before had totally evaporated and in its stead was worry. Worry that she and Jack would get caught, worry that Charlie hadn’t changed his lifestyle after all.

  “Good, good,” she said with a optimism she didn’t feel. She should have known that without her bullying him, Charlie would only return to old habits. And without the job to keep him occupied and busy, he’d probably been filling his empty days with comfort food. Her heart clenched and she wanted to tell him that she couldn’t bear losing him, too, but she just couldn’t. Even the possibility hurt too much. “Just take care of yourself.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  From: Charlie Walker

  To: Isabel Dalton

  Date: May 17, 2012 @ 11:43 AM

  Subject: re: SF

  You’ll like San Francisco. Probably even more because you’re only there three days.

  I want you to remember Toby doesn’t own you, even though by now I know he’s made it sound like he does. Try to remember that he’s just a man trying to do a job. That might help put some of the shit he says into perspective. And if he tells you that you need to dye your hair again, let him know he’ll be answering to me. You’d look ridiculous as a blonde.

  I know I was harsh on you before about your friend. I didn’t mean to be. I just want you to remember that nobody cares what he does, and everyone cares what you do. You can’t be too careful.

  Normally, I’d also say that your personal business is your own, and nobody else’s, but Mitch has a way of making that a lie. Chin up.

  Charlie

  Izzy read Charlie’s email for what felt like the hundredth time, and tried to see the silver lining. He’d said he’d been too harsh, but also that if she and Jack were caught, she’d be the only one paying the price. It was a horrible situation, and so she’d tried to find some distance the last week, barely answering Jack’s texts, ignoring his dinner invitations, and generally trying to cure him—and herself—of this crazy crush.

  And really, where had all that cowardly avoidance gotten her? She’d been horrifically miserable all week. Every text, every phone call, every pleading look he’d not-so-subtly sent her direction had made her feel even worse. She’d missed him even more than she’d anticipated.

  Her cell phone vibrated on the desk next to her, and she glanced over at it, hoping against hope that it was Jack again, but he’d been silent for almost twenty-four hours now. Deep down, she was afraid he’d finally gotten sick of her games and had decided to give her a taste of her own medicine.

  But it wasn’t Jack and the bitterness in the back of her throat grew. It was Jed Gonzalez, half of the play-by-play announcing duo for the Pioneers. Inwardly groaning, she clicked answer and held the phone to her ear.

  “Dalton.”

  “Hey kiddo, it’s Jed.” Jed was her favorite half, mainly because his nickname for her was the same as Charlie’s had been. Plus, she’d never actually seen him roll his eyes at her, which gave him huge bonus points in her book. “You busy tonight?”

  Was she busy? Without Jack, she’d been dreading the night alone in her hotel room. Anythin
g had to be better than staring at her email inbox.

  “Nope, free as a bird,” she replied.

  “Join Bart and me for dinner,” he offered charmingly. “We’re going to the Met Grill.”

  “I’d love to,” Izzy said, feeling her spirits begin to perk a little. They were including her. This had to be the indication she’d been waiting for that they actually liked her a little bit—and they wouldn’t like her if she hadn’t gotten better.

  “Great, we’re meeting downstairs in fifteen.”

  “Best part about coming to San Francisco,” Jed confided to Izzy over the menu he held in his hands. “I look forward to this every year.”

  “I can attest to that,” Bart chimed in.

  “Like you’re complaining,” Jed chuckled. “The steak here is second to none.”

  Izzy glanced at her own menu and tried to rationalize how any hunk of meat could be worth so much money. Clearly, she wasn’t a meat connoisseur on the level of Jed and Bart.

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if we saw someone from the team here tonight,” Bart added. “We’ve introduced nearly everyone to the Met over the years.”

  “Well, I’m very glad I’m the latest inductee to the mania,” Izzy said with a smile. They were a lot more charming when they weren’t in the booth, spitting stats and anecdotes back and forth and generally scaring her to death with everything she didn’t know.

  “Coming from someone who’s extensively sampled the menu, let me suggest the wagyu ribeye. Marbling to make you weep.”

  She was debating the pork chop versus the ribeye when she heard the voice, and instinctively her head raised, eyes searching the patrons for the man she couldn’t get out of her head. Then Bart said, “Oh look, there’s Jack Bennett.”

  She saw them at the same instant. Jack had actually put on a long-sleeved button-down and Noah was with him. Then her gaze drifted to the rest of the table, and her heart froze in her chest.

  “Ah, they’re on a date,” Jed said with a knowing chuckle. “Those young bucks, they never quit.”

  The girls at the table were both blonde, and both gorgeous, and as Jack laughed long and hard, throwing his head back in amusement, Izzy’s stomach roiled with nausea.

  She should look away, because she was definitely staring and sooner, rather than later, Jed or Bart was definitely going to notice that she couldn’t tear her eyes away from Jack and the beautiful blonde currently laughing with him like he was Saturday Night Live material.

  It could have been you. It should have been you.

  The voice in her head was harsh and cruel, but she knew it was right. He’d given her every opportunity to voice her feelings, to tell him that she liked him as much as he liked her, but she’d stayed stupidly silent, pulling away instead of drawing closer.

  This was all her fault.

  Of course, that didn’t make her feel any better. Instead, as she pretended to study her menu, she felt wretched and a whole host of other things that she could barely identify. Disappointed. Sick. Teary. And so blindingly angry she could barely continue to sit and listen to him laughing only a few tables away.

  Tonight was supposed to be an escape, but instead she’d been flung into hell, and of course, he’d see every bit of misery etched on her face—but only if he could look away from the stupid blonde bimbo he was currently leering over. Izzy’s fingers tightened around her water glass, and she unsatisfactorily imagined hurling it in his direction.

  “Izzy, are you alright?”

  She glanced up and saw Jed staring at the white-knuckled fist she’d made around the glass. He looked confused and concerned as he looked from her hand to her undoubtedly pale face.

  All she had to do was say she was fine, but she couldn’t quite make her mouth form the words. Instead, she just nodded and continued to blindly stare at her menu.

  “Is something wrong?” It was Bart this time, and that was really humiliating because he was pretty much totally oblivious to just about everything around him. If he’d noticed, she must look terrible.

  She almost laughed bitterly. She felt terrible. There was practically a hurricane of feelings brewing inside her—hurt, anger, resentment, guilt, and so much regret she could barely stand it. She had to get out of here before the storm exploded out of her.

  Decision made, she jerked upright, her knee hitting the edge of the table, but she felt nothing, not even the crack of bone against wood. “Excuse me,” she whispered and turned to flee, only to have her gaze settle on the only person she wanted to avoid. He was looking at her, blue eyes wide and shocked, and the guilt on his face nearly sent her spiraling out of control.

  Izzy tore her eyes away from him. Panic tasted like ash against her tongue as she started for the entrance of the restaurant, her heart beating furiously and loudly in her own ears.

  She’d just passed the host station when she heard the footsteps behind her. “Izzy, stop,” he called, and if she hadn’t been so humiliated, she might have been worried that most of the restaurant had just heard him.

  She sped up, her heels clacking against the hardwood floor.

  “Izzy, for the love of God, please wait.” He was close now; she could tell from the sound of his voice. She was three feet from freedom when he reached out, and grabbed her arm, whipping her around to face him.

  Swallowing hard, she stared at the floor. His hand encircled her wrist and she hated the shiver she felt as his calloused palm grazed over her bare skin.

  “Look at me,” he ordered, and it was the very first time he’d ever used that tone of voice on her. He’d never told before, he’d only asked, and something snapped inside of her.

  “No,” she hissed, jerking her wrist away from his grip, and meeting his concerned gaze with anger. “No. You don’t get to do this.”

  “Do what?” he asked, as if he was the innocent one in all this.

  “This,” she snapped, gesturing between them.

  “You’re going to have to explain what this means exactly,” he said. “I’m afraid I’m not following.”

  This time she was the one who grabbed him, wrapping her fingers around his wrist like chains, and pulling him along behind her to the narrow corridor that led to the bathrooms. Opening the door to the women’s bathroom, she shoved him in and let it close behind her.

  “You were on a date,” she sneered.

  Jack closed his eyes and clamped his lips together. “I know that’s what it looked like,” he began to say, but she didn’t want to hear it. She felt like another, much angrier, woman had taken over and in this moment, the interloper was allowing her to indulge every bit of frustration that had boiled inside of her since she’d taken this damn job.

  “No,” she interrupted with a sneer, “that’s what it was. You don’t have to lie to me. I’m not so fragile I’ll fall apart if you go on a date.”

  “Is this you not falling apart, then?” Jack asked, and this time there was a whisper of heat in his voice. Not so calm now, that traitorous part of her murmured exultingly.

  “I’m just fine,” she said through her teeth.

  He took a step closer, boxing her in against a row of sinks. Her legs bumped the edge of the counter, and she could only stare at his face as he caught on fire.

  “You’re not fucking fine. You lost it back there, and you have no right to do that. I told you what I wanted, and you liked my attention well enough for awhile, but then you pushed me away like we mean nothing to each other.”

  Oh, you’re angry now, the nasty woman inside of her crooned, let’s see just how angry you can be.

  “We don’t mean anything to each other,” Izzy retorted, and even though she’d known it was a lie in her head, the white lines bracketing his mouth would have told her all the same.

  “That’s not true, and you know it,” he ranted, h
is voice rising again. “I’m fucking crazy about you. I saw you every single night during the road trip, even stayed in the hotel because you said that was what you wanted. I didn’t even try to kiss you, even though that was all I thought about some nights. You’re the first thing I think about when I wake up in the morning and the last thing I see before I go to sleep.” Jack paused and took an unsteady breath, and she felt a terrible, blinding clarity.

  “Are you finished?” she murmured.

  He nodded jerkily and she lifted her hand back to his chest, to where his heart thumped solidly against her palm. “Good,” she said, leaning forward until she was nearly flush against him. His eyes widened and his heart accelerated, and Izzy felt drunk and dizzy with the knowledge she could affect him so strongly.

  “Don’t tease,” he breathed out unsteadily. “That’s not nice.”

  She smiled, a little bit evilly. “I told you before. I’m not nice.”

  Leaning the last inch, she kissed him, her mouth soft and pliant against his. For a second, Izzy thought she must have surprised him, because he went totally slack, every muscle in his body relaxing into her, like ice cream melting on a hot day—but then he was kissing her back, his hands cupping her face, cradling it as his mouth nibbled hers like it was his new favorite treat.

  It had all seemed so innocent at first, just a single graze of her lips against his, something simple and elemental that she couldn’t seem to resist anymore, not when he told her she was the first and the last thing that he thought about. Not when he’d taken up similar territory in her own mind. But then his tongue had slid hotly against hers, and her knees actually buckled.