No Better Man

by Sara Richardson

  Bryce slowed and peered down at her.

  Wait a minute. Holy smokes, Batman. Was that a smile on his face?

  “We’ve shut ’em out the last six games.” The smile grew. It grew until it lit his eyes with an intensity that sparked a burning sensation deep in her chest. She did her best to ignore it, even as the feeling spread through her. Whew. She fought the urge to fan herself. She’d never felt a singe like this, not even with Logan.

  They made it to the bench and he slung down the bag, that bicep of his knotted and tan and hard.

  Her fingertips tingled with a desperation to touch it, to crawl their way up his arm, across his shoulders, kneading and caressing until all of his tension melted away…

  “Can you help me with something?”

  She gulped air to steady her lungs. “Sure,” she rasped, not meaning to sound all sultry, but it couldn’t be helped.

  He dug a clipboard out of his bag and handed it to her. “Need someone to keep the stats.”

  “Stats?” She glared at the clipboard and read the scorecard. He wanted her to sit on the bench and take stats?

  “Yeah. You do know how to take stats, don’t you?” he asked as if skeptical about her vast baseball knowledge.

  Despite the chill in the air, perspiration beaded on her forehead. Bryce was unbelievable. “Of course I know how to take stats.” She tossed the clipboard onto the bench. “But if I take stats, I won’t be able to play.” That was exactly what he wanted, wasn’t it? To stick her on the bench, out of the way. “I’ll be on the bench the whole game.”

  He shrugged, a silent so what?

  A smile wriggled on her lips. She’d show him so what. She’d been an All-American pitcher on her college softball team. One of the best hitters on the team. That’s right, Bryce Walker. She had a lot to offer, and she’d prove it to him. “Your mom invited me to play.”

  “My mom’s not in charge.” He stooped and unpacked the batting helmets, as if by not looking at her he could somehow deny her existence. But she wasn’t about to make it that easy.

  She lowered to the ground, right next to him, and reached her hands over his to unpack the bats. “Fine, Bryce. That’s fine.”

  His body stilled. Their eyes connected.

  Pressure built inside of her, but she didn’t look away. She refused to let him know he got to her. “I’ll take the stats,” she said with a wry smile. “And I’ll play, too.” She leaned close for added effect. “So make sure to put me in the batting order, Coach.”

  His mouth opened and his gaze lowered to her lips. Something flashed in his eyes. Desire? Intrigue?

  A breath wedged in her throat, begging for release, but she couldn’t. Breathe. Move. Look away.

  He didn’t either…

  Voices drifted behind them. Bryce’s green eyes opened wider as he peered past her shoulder. He scrambled to his feet, leaving her crouched—legs numb, heart thundering, echoing in her ears.

  What just happened? She rose from the ground, slow and with great awkwardness, given the way blood surged through her limbs. There was a second there, when Bryce had stared at her mouth, that his eyes had gotten all droopy and defenseless, like he’d let her in, let her see him. And she could’ve sworn he’d almost kissed her, right there kneeling in the dirt.

  But he couldn’t stand her…

  “There you are, dear!” Elsie bustled over, full of the same aging elegance as Grace Kelly. “You have to meet everyone.” She hooked an arm through hers and dragged her over to a woman who was tying her cleats on the bench. “Avery, meet Paige. She’s been a friend of our family’s forever.”

  Paige finished tying her shoe and stood. “Hey.” What she lacked in height, she made up for with a strong voice, fierce eyes, and a cascade of wavy, sun-streaked hair. She reminded Avery of one of those roller derby girls she’d seen on TV. Minus the stockiness.

  “Nice to meet you, Paige,” she said, trying to reel in her brain from wandering back to the deep, murky pool of emotions Bryce had cast her into.

  “You, too,” the woman said with a skeptical edge, like she was being polite but hadn’t yet decided if it really was nice.

  “Avery’s our guest at the ranch for a few days. Isn’t that right, dear?” Elsie beamed.

  “Right.” She pasted on a smile but couldn’t stop her eyes from executing a quick search for Bryce. He stood in the center of a group of his friends laughing like he didn’t have any trouble at all moving on from their little moment. Had they even had a moment? Or had she imagined it?

  “What’s up, ladies?” A man approached them, tall and stocky, dressed in a Broncos jersey, jeans, and cowboy boots.

  Interesting. She’d never seen anyone run the bases in cowboy boots.

  “Shooter.” Elsie latched onto the guy’s arm and towed him closer. “This is Avery. She’s our guest at the ranch.” There was no mistaking the pride in her voice when she said the word “guest.”

  “Bryce and Shooter have been friends since the third grade,” Elsie informed her.

  He gave her hand a hearty shake, while his brown eyes made their way up and down her body. “Glad to meet you, Avery.” He winked. “Let me know if you need any tips out there tonight.”

  Seriously? Tips from a man who was about to play baseball in cowboy boots? She gagged back a laugh. “Will do. Thanks.”

  Elsie escorted her toward the group Bryce stood with. It got awkwardly silent when they approached, but she made herself focus on Elsie’s happy smile.

  “Avery, this is Yates and Timmons.” She gestured to the two lanky men standing next to Bryce. “And this is my nephew Sawyer.” Elsie pointed out the third man, who had Bryce’s same look—the dark hair, the tanned skin, except that his eyes were blue instead of green. “Avery is staying at the ranch for a while,” the woman informed them, like it was the biggest news of the year.

  “Great to meet you.” Sawyer gave Avery’s hand a hearty shake. “Where’re you from?” he asked, and she made the mistake of glancing at Bryce.

  That tight look of annoyance was all she needed to see. He didn’t want her here. Didn’t want her talking to his friends and relatives. “Um.” She tried to recover from the intensity of Bryce’s glare. “I’m from Chicago,” she finally spit out, feeling a flush spread up her neck.

  “I love Chicago.” Sawyer grinned and started to chat about the Cubs, but she couldn’t focus because Bryce turned and drifted away.

  Unease knotted her stomach. He had every right to glare at her. What was she doing here, anyway? Invading Bryce’s life, pretending this was her community? When she’d heard the word “baseball” she’d gotten carried away, but now…

  She scanned the crowd. They were a varied group of men and women, all different ages, dressed in different styles—a couple of hippies with dreads, a couple of gray-haired men decked out in the latest high-end sportswear. They were obviously a diverse group but all of them chatted and laughed and whacked each other on the backs like best friends.

  Longing bloomed in her heart. These people had a deep connection, she could see it; the kind of family connection she’d longed for since Mom had died. But this was Bryce’s community, the Walker Mountain Ranch community, and no matter how badly she wanted to be part of it, she was an outsider. She had to be. Dad had sent her here to acquire the ranch, and she couldn’t forget that.

  *

  “Come on, Avery!” Paige squealed. “You’ve got this! Hit another triple!”

  Bryce tried not to roll his eyes. Three innings. That was exactly how long it took for Avery to win over every single person on the Walker Mountain Ranch Misfits team. Hell, he’d been working on some of them going on ten years now and they still didn’t like him. But as she strutted out to home plate for her third at-bat, the women cheered her on like she was some female version of Derek Jeter, while the men checked out her ass, offering up high fives just to slow her down and get a better look.

  Had to admit, it wasn’t a bad view. The black yoga pants she wor
e fit sleek and tight across her cinched waist and over that distinctly feminine curve of her hips. The fabric showcased the toned shape of her long legs. And don’t get him started on that well-worn Cubs shirt. Looked like it’d been washed so many times that it’d shrunk a few sizes, which wasn’t a bad thing, considering she had plenty to show off.

  Avery made it to home plate and hunched into a perfect batter’s stance—hinged forward at the waist, elbows straight and wide. Couldn’t deny she had some mad skills. He’d never seen a woman hit a triple before, at least not in this town. She’d nailed it low and perfect, right down the third-base line and into the field. Their fielder had been too drunk to move fast, so she’d brought in three runs.

  He glanced out at the pitcher, Rollins, one of the bartenders from the dive he used to hang out at. He seemed frozen in the spotlight of Avery’s glory. Bryce could relate. Shoot, just before the game, when she’d knelt so close, when he’d inhaled her citrus-y scent, he’d almost lost it, almost forgotten what her name was. She made it easy to forget, with that laugh, so carefree and easy. He could get wrapped up in that real easy. Too easy.

  Out on the mound, Rollins finally got himself together enough to toss it in, slow and steady, right over home plate.

  Smack! Avery connected, hit a line drive right at the guy. The poor schmuck dove to the ground, arms over his head while the ball shot out into the field again.

  All around him, the bench cleared. People high-fived and cheered her on.

  “Woo hoo!”

  “That’s it! Run, Avery!”

  She sprinted for first, then second, then third, but her momentum didn’t stop. Somehow, the shortstop came up with the ball and threw it home.

  She wasn’t gonna make it…

  Just as the ball hit the catcher’s mitt Avery slid like a pro—legs outstretched, foot reaching for the base. She touched it just as the catcher stepped down.

  “Safe!” The ump signaled. The bench cleared in a wild pandemonium. Hell, even he was on his feet, cheering and whooping it up like another Avery King groupie.

  Avery waved to the crowd, then got up and gingerly jogged over to the bench. Everyone had a turn to slap her on the shoulder and congratulate her for what just might have been the best run they’d seen in years. She made her way down the line, laughing and slapping high fives, until she got to him. She stopped, looked up from under the shade of her Cubs hat with what looked like shyness tugging at her eyelids.

  Even though he knew it was a bad idea, he looked her straight in the eyes. That same sensation stirred, the one that had almost driven him to kiss her. Maybe if her lips didn’t look so soft…

  She raised her eyebrows at him and he knew he couldn’t just keep staring at her all night without her suspecting something was up. So he smirked. “Nice hit.”

  She grinned, no longer shy and wondering, but full of smart-ass flare. “Told you I could play.” Then she bumped past him and paraded to her spot on the bench, lighting a flame of want in his gut.

  During the next few batters’ turns, Avery and Paige had their heads tilted together, chatting and laughing. He wasn’t close enough to hear what they were talking about. Must have been pretty interesting, though, because Paige never carried on like that. Especially with people she didn’t know. He glanced over at the two of them. Something about Avery seemed to make people feel like they’d known her forever. Probably served her well working with her crook of a father. The man already had like three billion in the bank. What’d he need Bryce’s ranch for, anyway?

  After the third out, he got up to head to the outfield. Shooter appeared next to him and bumped his shoulder. “Damn, Walker. She’s somethin’.” He nodded toward Avery. “And she’s single, right?”

  Some weird defensive energy surged through him. Shooter was a player. The worst kind of player. The kind who macked on other women even when he was out on a date. No way did Avery belong with someone like him. He eyed him. “Nah. I think she’s engaged or something.”

  “She’s not engaged,” he said, his face smug. “Logan Schwartz proposed to her during the seventh inning stretch and she said no.”

  He stopped in the outfield. Wait. What? “Logan Schwartz?”

  “Yeah. Cubs’ pitcher.”

  Holy shit. She’d dated a ballplayer? “When?” Trying to look nonchalant, he closed the gap with Shooter so she wouldn’t hear them talking about her.

  “Week ago or so,” his friend said, eyeing Avery again. “It was ugly. She got booed out of the stadium.”

  Wow. How’d he miss that? “I had no idea.”

  “Yeah, so it looks like she’s back on the market.” Shooter’s eyes gleamed. “I might have to take a crack at that.”

  “Good luck,” he muttered, his defenses rising again. But why should he care if Avery went out with him? Wasn’t like he could date her. Edward King’s daughter. Pshaw. Right. That would be…stupid.

  “Come on! This is the first out!” Avery called. She stood a ways in front of him, playing shortstop. Great. He’d have to stand there and look at her backside for the next half hour. Just what he needed to convince himself she was a bad idea.

  He pulled the bill of his cap lower over his eyes. Fine. That was fine. He wouldn’t look. He refused to look. Focus on the ball…

  His old drinking buddy, Dave, stepped up to bat. Bryce jogged backward. The man could hit. First couple of pitches, Paige threw solids strikes, but then Dave hit a pop fly and it was headed straight for him. Bryce followed the ball with his eyes, running forward, to the left…

  Blond hair flashed right in front of him. Shit. He thrust out his arms, but it was too late.

  Avery tumbled into him, knocking him off balance. His arms flailed in search of stability, but the momentum pitched him back. Thud! He hit the soft grass and Avery ended up on top of him while the ball sailed over both of their heads.

  She stared at him, her shimmery blue eyes wide with shock, lips formed in an O inches away from his.

  So close. Too close. Her curves fit against him, reminding him how it felt to pull a woman close enough to feel her best features. His chest locked up.

  Off in the distance, his teammates snickered like a group of junior high boys.

  “Get a room!” someone called.

  Avery’s expression went from shock to a feisty smirk. She balanced her elbow on his chest and propped her chin on her fist. “Jeez, Bryce. If you wanted it that bad, you could’ve just asked,” she said.

  Nice. He shook his head at her, but couldn’t fight off a smile. “You done, Slugger? ’Cause I know I am.” Carefully, he wrapped his arms around her in a tight embrace.

  She flinched and that shocked look made a strong comeback.

  Ha. Two can play this game. He rolled her off of him so that her back was against the grass and he was the one looking down at her. “If I wanted it, I wouldn’t have to ask.”

  Her mischievous expression dared him to prove it.

  He laughed to add to the show. Instead of indulging her boldness, he let her go, pushed off the ground, and trotted back to his spot a safe distance away.

  Space. He needed space. When Avery got too close, when he touched her, his memories of Yvonne faded into obscurity. She made him forget. She made him betray his wife and want something he never thought he’d want again.

  And he wasn’t ready to let go.

  Chapter Seven

  Reveling in the aftereffects of one of the best games of her life, Avery meandered through the cluster of Bryce’s friends, who’d gathered around the bench to enjoy a post-game snack courtesy of Elsie. She inhaled the scent of crisp chocolate. Brownies. Gooey brownies that still smelled warm. And boy, was she hungry. She picked one up and shoved the entire thing in her mouth, her face still stinging with the thrill of physical exertion.

  Nothing felt better than a win like that. They’d given the other team a good trouncing. She’d stopped keeping the score at 18-4.

  “Hey, Avery. Good game.” Paige thwacked her on th
e back and she tried not to wince. As petite as she was, the woman packed a punch.

  “You rocked the hits tonight.” Shooter nudged her shoulder and cozied up beside her.

  “Thanks,” she said around the mouthful of brownie, then discreetly shuffled sideways because, well, Shooter wasn’t exactly subtle.

  “Outstanding performance!” Elsie shoved her fingers in her mouth and gave a shrill whistle. “Someone get this girl an MVP trophy!”

  Waving a hand through the air, she laughed like it was nothing, but their praise went straight to her heart. This was better than when she’d earned All-American in college! “Thanks, everyone,” she said, then plucked another brownie out of Elsie’s magical basket.

  Paige helped herself to one, too. “Hey, girl,” she uttered between bites. “We’re all heading out to Moe’s for a more adult-style post-game celebration.”

  “Moe’s?” She gave Paige a blank look.

  The woman laughed like she’d forgotten that Avery wasn’t part of their crowd. “It’s a bar. The local hangout. You’ve got to come. After that performance, your drinks are on me.”

  She grinned. She couldn’t help it. These people were so nice! She’d never had so much fun with a group of strangers before.

  “So, are you in or what?” Paige demanded in that endearing, intimidating way of hers.

  “Um.” She looked around for Bryce. He stood on the outskirts of the group, expression locked into the same scowl he’d worn since she’d met him, his arms crossed like he couldn’t wait to get out of there.

  He definitely didn’t look like he was in the mood to party. She slung her backpack over her shoulder. “I should probably check with Bryce. We rode together.”

  “Really?” The woman drew out the word into an innuendo. “Interesting.”

  Heat rose to her face. She hadn’t intended to imply anything, but Paige seemed to think that meant something. “Actually it wasn’t that interesting,” she informed her before she got any ideas. “He didn’t say a word to me.” His mommy had made him include her, and he’d spent most of the evening avoiding her—except for those few moments before the game, and then when she’d ended up on top of him. Talk about a shocker. She could still feel the sturdiness of his body beneath hers, the strength of his arms around her…