Turning, she gripped the edge of the bar. “Just another fire to put out. All in a day’s work. I’m sorry. I have to go.” There were calls to make. Damage control to begin.
“We should exchange numbers.” Dom’s big hand closed over hers, hard and warm. “I want to make sure you receive the right passes, the right clearance, for after the game.”
Her pulse skittered and nerve endings tingled at the touch. “I have the team’s contact person.”
“Still.”
Confusion reigned. Was his interest in her or in meeting the band? She pulled out her business card and handed it over. “Here you go. My cell’s on the bottom.”
He entered the number into his phone and then dialed. Hers vibrated on the bar and unknown number lit up the screen. He picked up her phone, saved his number under her contacts, and typed in his name. “There. Now you have mine, too.”
“Thanks.” She was smart enough to realize professional athletes wouldn’t hand out their personal contact information to just anyone. They would be as cautious as she was with the band’s information. She wished she were smart enough to uncover his motivations. Realization now would mean less heartache later.
His thumb brushed over her knuckles, scattering her thoughts and sending pulses of heat straight to her core. “I’ll see you soon. Good luck with your fires.”
Forcing herself to get off the barstool and away from his heat was harder than she’d expected. “Good night. And good luck in your game tomorrow.” She extracted her hand and stood. Familiar layers of tension built as she walked away. As always, the band had to come first.
CHAPTER THREE
The Opening Day crowd packed the stadium in a sea of blue and green. Dom sat next to Adam in the dugout. So far, he’d gone two for three in his at-bats. The Riptide held a three-run lead. He’d helped with a run but would’ve felt better if he hadn’t gone down swinging on his third time at the plate.
“Let it go.” Adam’s elbow nudged his arm.
“What?”
“I know you. You’re stewing over that last at-bat.”
“So?” He shrugged and adjusted his cap. He’d never had trouble keeping his mind in a game, but with the billboard announcing The Fury’s tour hanging above the outfield, keeping Irisa out of his thoughts was impossible. Maybe she was watching the game… She wasn’t a fan, but maybe she was as curious about him as he was about her. And striking out with her watching ticked him off.
“Get it out of your head. You’re up next.” Adam nodded toward the plate.
Bottom of the ninth. One last chance.
He stood and Adam tapped him on the back. “Go get ‘em.”
A few fans called out to him when he reached the on-deck circle. He gave them a tip of his cap, then swung the bat and watched Mario in action at the plate. To his left, Liam, in his Fin the Shark costume, stood on the roof of the dugout and revved the crowd. Mario got a single. With him safe at first base, Dom headed toward the batter’s box. His walk-up music blared. Along with the familiar jolt of adrenaline, Irisa’s face flashed into his mind. Her scent, the soft, silky feel of her skin, her voice. Extra energy spiked his blood.
When he reached the plate, Dom performed his ritual. He kicked some dirt around, tapped his cleats with his bat, and then took a few practice swings. He studied Fitzwater on the mound. Last time, the Bolts pitcher had struck him out with a sinker. Would he throw another?
Wind-up…pitch… Fastball.
He eyed the ball and swung.
Crack.
The ball sailed into left, the fielder running hard to track it down. But it dropped in front of him. Dom sprinted to first.
Safe.
A single wasn’t good enough for him, but it allowed Mario to advance to third.
He focused on Cole warming up at the plate and willed him to have some of Slade’s hitting power. The team wouldn’t be getting Slade back for a few more weeks, and they all needed to pick up the slack until he returned. Muscles readied to run, Dom stepped off the base and took a few strides toward second. Cole’s bat slammed into the ball and it flew over the outfield. Dom ran, watching the ball, watching it arc into the stands. Game winner. He rounded third, then headed for home.
He didn’t always have to be the hero. Playing a part in the win was enough.
Two hours later, after the press conferences had ended and the players had left the stadium, Dom declined Liam’s suggestion of celebration drinks. He’d need to be clearheaded to deal with his own after-game ritual. He sat on his couch with Champ lying at his side and stared at his phone. As usual, it rang.
Dad Cell.
“Hey, Dad.”
“I watched the game.” No greeting. As usual, Dad launched straight into his coach’s role. “You were wiggling the bat too much before your swing. It threw your timing off. Stop moving it around so much while you’re in the box.”
His dad had been his first coach and his first critic. No praise, just pointers. It didn’t matter that he had hitting coaches and a manager ready to set him straight. Dad’s opinion was always expressed, as blunt and harsh as any faceless fan.
“What about Cruz and Rio? Did you catch their games today?” His younger brothers played for minor league teams on the East Coast.
“You would’ve been proud. Cruz went two for four and Rio had a double play.” Pride shone though his Dad’s voice. Pride for his brothers, but never for him.
He pinched the bridge of his nose in an effort to stave off the forming headache. “I’ll give them a call later.”
“Make sure you work on your swing. How long do they have you taking batting practice? You’re not skimping on it, are you?”
“You know I’m not a slacker.” He’d been groomed too well by the old man for that. Baseball came first, before everything. Impatience bloomed fast. Pushing off the cushion, he stood. He wanted the call to be over.
“You weren’t a fighter either, until the other night.”
Okay, they really didn’t need to get into this again. Getting chewed out once was enough. Anger mixed with frustration, simmering to a slow boil. “We’ve been over that. Look, I’m sorry, I have to go. The dog’s whining. He needs to go out for a walk.” He glanced at Champ and willed him to make some noise. The dog raised his head and let out a single, loud bark. Good boy.
His father huffed a sigh. “Pay attention to your swing tomorrow. I’ll talk to you after the game.”
“Can’t wait,” Dom muttered. “Good night.”
Champ jumped off the couch and stared at him.
“You heard the W-word, didn’t you?” Dom grabbed the leash from the hook by the door then knelt beside Champ and rubbed his belly. “You earned it.”
Within minutes, they were walking through the empty lobby. He peered into the pub as they passed. No sign of Irisa, with her colorful clothes and captivating presence. Just as well; he wasn’t in the best mood for company anyway.
Out on the street, warm evening air whipped over his skin. He couldn’t help glancing up the side of the building, wondering which windows were hers, if she were home, if she were tucked in bed…
Champ barked and tugged on his leash.
“All right, buddy, we’re going.” Laughing, Dom shook his head. Maybe the bark had been a warning: take a step back. Maybe that was smart. He headed to the small dog park he’d recently discovered, then spent the next hour tossing a tennis ball to the dog. He shouldn’t care that his on-field play was never good enough for his old man. He had a dog who gave him unconditional love no matter how well he did on the field.
CHAPTER FOUR
Early Monday morning, Irisa pulled up in front of Zander’s house, praying he could keep a cool head for Luke’s day in court. For once, he was actually ready and waiting. He climbed inside her convertible. Sandy brown hair disheveled, hazel eyes heavy with sleep, he folded his six-foot-two frame into the small seat.
“When did you start listening to sports radio?” He turned down the volume.
&nb
sp; Three days ago. Her cheeks heated. “Since you’re performing at the ballpark soon, I thought it would be a good idea to brush up on baseball.”
He stared at her as though she’d grown a second head. “Really. This wouldn’t have anything to do with meeting Dom Torres, would it? I still can’t believe you didn’t call me.”
“You’ll be able to talk to him all you want after the game.”
“So what did you talk about with him? I know it couldn’t have been about batting averages and home runs.”
Could her cheeks get any hotter? “Traffic isn’t too bad. We should get to the courthouse with plenty of time to spare. I know things aren’t great with you and Luke right now, but I’m glad you came.”
“We’ll get through this tour, and then no more for a long while. I don’t care what kind of persuasion comes up. We need a break, and we’re taking one.” He sighed, closing his eyes and leaning against the headrest.
“I know. I promise. Nothing else after this.” Being older by only a year, and being nearly a foot shorter than her brother didn’t lessen the need to look out for him. Her parents had always expected them to drop everything and put family first. She drove the rest of the way in silence.
Dodging the few reporters hoping for a sound bite was harder than she’d expected. She grabbed on to Zander’s arm and kept her head down. When they set foot in the courthouse, she found Brendan and Landry waiting by a bench in the hall. “I guess Luke didn’t get here yet?”
Landry pointed to one of the rooms. “He’s in there with his lawyer. He didn’t want us coming in with him.”
“So we’re giving moral support from out here.” Brendan drummed his fingers on his knees. “You wanted us to show up, so we did. I don’t know why he wouldn’t want us in there.”
“Maybe he’s embarrassed about the whole thing.” Soothing ruffled feathers came naturally.
Brendan nodded. “I can understand that. Dude doesn’t need any more stress.” His fingers tapped out a beat on the bench’s arm. The drummer’s hands seemed to never stay still.
For an hour, she paced, one hand in her pocket, gripping her antacids. Finally, the door opened and Luke emerged. He’d refused to talk about what had happened on the water, and as much as the label wanted the bad publicity hidden away, she wanted to dig deeper.
She pounced on him. “Well?”
“I have to pay a fine and do thirty hours of community service.”
The blanket of worry lifted. “We don’t have to miss any tour dates?”
“No. But I won’t have my license for six months. So I guess one of you will be driving me around.” His gaze wandered over the group.
“Of course, whatever you need.” She placed her hand on his arm. She’d played chauffeur before for various reasons.
Zander, Brendan, and Landry kept quiet. She knew the band was angry, but still… Shooting them a glare, she said, “I’m sure the guys are more than happy to help out, too.”
Luke lifted a brow. “Sure. I can hear them clamoring to help.”
“What did you expect? Did you see those reporters out there? Did you think about the tour or label before doing what you did?” Gaze heated, Zander crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re a fucking moron.”
“A moron? I guess you haven’t made any mistakes?” Luke’s tone rose. His features tightened into a snarl and he moved into Zander’s space. They’d never come to blows before. Neither backed down.
Two police officers headed their way. Shit. Irisa pushed in between Luke and her brother. “Not here. Are you insane?”
Luke’s lawyer grabbed his client’s shoulder and pulled him away from Zander. “We’re going outside. No matter what anyone says to you, don’t engage, don’t respond. Let me handle it.”
Irisa kept her hand on Zander’s chest. “We’re all leaving. You’re all going to pretend nothing is wrong, and then you’re going to get in the car.”
Her brother laughed. “Sure. United front. No problems here.”
“That’s right. Now move it. Fast.” She smiled at the officers, pretending all was fine with her world and the guys.
Sun and heat and questions greeted them. Luke’s lawyer handled the media, and she linked her am with Zander in an effort to keep him away from Luke. When they reached the parking lot, her phone vibrated with the third call from Excite Records that day, and her pulse ratcheted skyward again. No use putting off the inevitable. Luke’s lawyer stood with the guys. They’d be fine for a few minutes. She stepped away, dialed the number, and prayed for voice mail.
“Oliver Somers here.”
Damn it. Glaring at the passing cars, she spewed her news in a single breath. “Hey, it’s Irisa. The tour won’t be affected.”
“That’s great news, Ris.” God, she hated his nickname for her. No amount of telling him so had any effect.
“Yep. Well, I’d better go.” She pulled the phone away from her ear.
“Hold on a minute.”
She sighed and looked up at the sky. Irritation pricked along her skin. Any length of conversation with the man was too long. She forced her lips to curve, a trick she often used with him to make her voice sound friendlier. “What’s up?”
“Excite has invested a lot of money in this tour.”
His superior tone inflamed the embers of anger waiting to be ignited. “And?”
“And we can’t have bad publicity from one of the co-headlining bands.”
Did he think she was an idiot? “None of us wants bad press.”
“So if you could please do your best to keep the guys in line…”
Her blood ran hot. Was he seriously trying to tell her how to do her job? He wouldn’t even have his job if it hadn’t been for her. “How about you worry about your job and I’ll worry about mine.”
Jabbing the “end call” button wasn’t as satisfying as jabbing Oliver in the chest would have been. She fought for calm. She’d need it to get through the rest of her day.
A little boy ran past wearing a Riptide t-shirt with Torres on the back. Dom’s face flashed into her mind. She touched the back of her hand where his fingers had rested. If she concentrated hard enough, she could still feel his touch.
Oliver was her past. She’d wasted way too much time resenting him and his deceit. Thinking about Dom made her feel awake and alive for the first time in two years. But what if he were only interested in her for the band? She didn’t care to suffer the same embarrassment and humiliation all over again.
The band headed toward her, forming a united front. She’d enjoy their uneasy truce for as long as it lasted. Through all the ups and downs, they’d been there for her. They were her family. She’d do whatever she had to do to keep things smooth. She wouldn’t let anything or anyone ruin what they had created.
Irisa dropped Zander off at his home then drove to the animal shelter. She volunteered twice a month whenever she wasn’t on tour. A glance at the clock confirmed Jayne would be there, too. They scheduled their volunteer hours together as often as they could. She couldn’t wait to see the animals and to talk to her friend.
When she entered the building, she spotted the redhead walking through the hallway ahead of her. She hurried to catch up. “Jayne.”
Jayne turned, pulling orange earbuds out of her ears. “Hi. How’s everything with Luke?”
“Good news—the tour will go on as planned.”
Instead of the smile Irisa expected, Jayne took a deep breath and stopped walking. “I don’t think he likes me.”
“Of course he likes you.” Irisa waved off the comment. “The band’s been having some issues, that’s all. He was in an equally bad mood with everyone on Friday. He’s really a nice guy, though. I promise.”
“I don’t know.” Wringing her hands together, Jayne bit her lip and then looked at her shoes. “I’ve dealt with high-drama bands before. It doesn’t scare me, but it’s also never been directed at me. I don’t want to leave you stranded but I’m not sure I’m the best choice for this
band.”
If Irisa had to handle all of the details again, her circuits would overload. Her stomach burned. She pulled an antacid free from the roll. “I’ll give you more money.”
“Money isn’t the issue. You’re already paying me more than I expected.”
“I promise things will be fine. Please don’t back out. I need you.”
Jayne studied the roll as Irisa pocketed it again. “You’ve had them on you every time I’ve seen you lately. Are you sick?”
“No.” She’d been to the doctor. Nothing was wrong, aside from stress liking to play havoc with her stomach. She quickly chewed the strawberry tablet. “What can I do to convince you to come on tour?”
“Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I’d feel better if I knew you were still coming with me.”
“Well…” The word drew out slowly, thoughtfully. Jayne was wavering.
Irisa gripped her hands together and resisted the urge to reach for more of the fruit-flavored tablets in her pocket. “Being the only girl stinks. When we were playing the shows in New York and New Jersey, I spent a lot of time with the fashion designer who outfitted the guys for their photo shoot in Central Park. Hanging out with Audrey made me realize how much fun it was to have another female around. Please come help balance out all that testosterone.”
“I can’t say no to you. All right. I’m in. I’m no quitter.”
Elation and relief mixed together. She threw her arms around her friend. “Thank you.”
She linked her arm through Jayne’s and walked down the hall toward the room filled with puppies. Someone had given one of the puppies a Riptide blanket. Irisa’s pulse jetted at the reminder of Dom. She’d checked out his player profile on the team’s website and learned he’d been, statistically, the best center fielder in the entire league last season. He was definitely a star player. And he hadn’t seemed put off by her not knowing who he was. The lack of ego was refreshing. The blurb about his charity devoted to helping animals raised her interest level even more.
He needed to stop sneaking into her mind.
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