by Tracy March
“Not considering the tweet from Nikki Barlow that came after it.” She lifted her chin, pretending this was all about business. “Cole is obviously seeing other women and not falling for me, as you claimed. So I’m hoping you’ll consider making your donation to BADD immediately and release me from our agreement.” Her heart thrummed. If Frank said yes, she’d keep her job and the camps would get even more funding from his donation. She could get back to her life as she’d known it—running the camps, following the Orioles, and missing Wes. Her comfort zone, as Paige would say.
But then you won’t see Cole again.
“Are you falling for him?” Frank asked.
“No,” she said, too quickly. “I just want your donation, and I want out.”
“But that wasn’t our agreement.”
Liza picked up a yellow ginkgo leaf from the table and twirled it by the stem between her fingertips. “I realize that, and I don’t know why I didn’t think to add something like that to the deal. I mean, a guy like Cole was bound to go out with other girls.”
“Why don’t you give him a chance to explain that tweet from Nikki Barlow? Maybe it’s not what you’re thinking.”
Liza’s temper flared. “I don’t care about Cole or Nikki Barlow or whatever is going on with them.”
Frank nodded. “Whatever you say. Whether you do or not, our agreement stands as it is. If you want out now, just say. But I won’t be making a donation to BADD.”
Liza rubbed her forehead, thankful Frank was facing the building instead of her. Ross would really wonder what was going on if he could see her face. Her stomach felt hollow and she wished she’d eaten breakfast. On second thought, maybe not.
“So you’ve got a decision to make,” Frank said. “Are you in or out? And if you say in, remember the terms. You date Cole until the end of the baseball season. And you can’t be avoidin’ him if he wants to explain that tweet, as I suspect he will.” He slugged the last of his coffee. “No shenanigans.”
Liza stared at the ginkgo leaf she continued to twirl as she considered her predicament. She needed Frank’s donation—if she wanted to keep running the BADD camps and selecting deserving boys to attend, and if she wanted to prove herself without asking for help from her parents.
But she had to be honest with herself, too. She was definitely in danger of falling for Cole. Her jealousy over Nikki Barlow’s tweet told her that much, and so did her heart. She had no idea how things were going to work out, but she couldn’t give up now. She took a deep breath, released the leaf and watched it flutter to the ground. “I’m in.”
Chapter Thirteen
Cole hadn’t heard from Liza since he’d texted her yesterday. The Nats had the day off, and they’d traveled from Miami to Philly, giving him plenty of time to think about Frank’s threat to drop him. Cole couldn’t imagine losing Frank or working with another agent. Straightening things out with Liza would ease Frank’s mind, and Cole’s, too. Leave it to Nikki to complicate things just when he’d decided to take a real chance with Liza.
Cole needed her at tonight’s game. It would show Frank that he had things under control, and it would show Cole that she was just as into him, too. Now he faced the game without her here, worrying what his next move should be. During batting practice, all the stress nagged at him, and he took it out on the baseballs. He smashed every one that came at him, and at least a quarter of them left the park. Feeling moderately better now that he’d knocked the crap out of something, he headed into the visitors’ clubhouse with his teammates, ready for the big game. He sat in front of his locker, double-knotted the laces of his cleats, and checked his phone one last time.
His heart hitched. A text from Liza had come in just minutes ago.
Good luck in the big game.
DVRing it? he typed quickly.
Nope. I’m in the stands.
Cole smiled and blew out a long breath. She was here.
He hated to admit it, but now he was twice as nervous as he’d been before he got her text. This was unfamiliar territory. On the rare occasion he’d invited a girl to watch him play, he came out with swagger, confident that whatever he did, she’d like it. But Liza was different. She knew the game. And it was going to take a triple and stealing home—the hardest play in baseball—to impress her.
See you afterward? he texted.
Only if you’ll sing. ;)
No way. He smiled as he put his phone in his locker and joined the team on their way to the visitors’ dugout. The night had gotten cooler quickly, and a fine mist made light in the stadium hazy. Rain was in the forecast, and Cole hoped it would hold off. Muddy baseball might be fun to watch, but it was definitely no fun to play.
When they stood for “The Star-Spangled Banner,” he scanned the sold-out crowd and spotted Frank sitting with Mack and Brenda, and Liza—all Cole’s VIP seats, all in a row. He calmed down a little. Things were okay for now, and he could worry about baseball. The Phillies had a way of sneaking up on the Nationals, and the Nats couldn’t let that happen tonight. They were too close to clinching the division, and a win tonight would get it done.
Cole sat at one end of a ridiculously huge couch in the corner of the upscale hotel lobby, sulking. He wasn’t dressed to impress in a pair of jeans and a worn Tar Heels T-shirt. But the clothes were comfortable and dry, and that’s all he cared about right then. Nearby, an annoying wall fountain trickled water, reminding him of the incessant light rain that had ultimately soaked him during tonight’s miserable game.
He thought he and his buddies would be celebrating clinching the division title. Instead, most of them had headed to their rooms, embarrassed and angry at themselves for letting the game get away. The Nats had taken the lead in the third, 2-0. Then a bad call at first had put the Phillies catcher on base. The next batter hit a homer, tying the game, and the Nats’ momentum was gone. From then on, their bats were quiet, their bullpen struggled, their gloves were slippery, and they’d all-around sucked. The Phillies had won 5-2.
His phone pinged with a text from Frank.
Tough loss. Saw the little lady at the game. Nice work.
Cole needed to set Frank straight and tell him their plan had shifted. The only “work” Cole was doing with Liza now was trying to win her heart. He needed to make sure that wasn’t complicated by a slip from Frank, clueing her in to their initial plan.
Seconds later, she came into the lobby, carrying a paper lunch bag. Cole stood and caught her attention. She made her way over to him, wearing a stylish black rain jacket over jeans and a snug ivory cable-knit sweater. The girl defined wholesome-hot. Two bellmen and a desk clerk checked her out appreciatively, and Cole had the knee-jerk instinct to take her in his arms to show those guys that she was his. Then he remembered that she wasn’t…yet.
Even so, he pretended she was and hugged her tightly, inhaling her flowery scent, and feeling better about the Nats’ loss, if only for a moment. She wrapped her arms around him and it was the best feeling he’d had since he’d left her days ago.
“Hi there,” he said, and reluctantly released her.
“Hi, yourself.” She grimaced, yet still managed to look pretty. “You okay?”
He shrugged. “I’ve been better.”
“I’m sorry about the game.”
He clenched his jaw. “We’ll get ’em tomorrow night.” He sounded more confident than he felt. If he kept playing the way he had this week, he’d be no help to the Nats. Worrying about things between him and Liza and Frank had affected his game, but everything would get better now.
He led her over to the couch and they sat down.
“I need to tell you what happened between me and Nikki Barlow,” he said quickly, before he lost his nerve.
She blushed. “I saw the tweet. But you don’t really owe me an explanation.” She bit her lip, looking vulnerable. Her rea
ction made him want to explain himself more.
“So the thing with Nikki…” His chest tightened. Saying everything he’d planned was going to be harder than he’d thought. “I had a bad game in Miami the other night.” He shrugged. “Kinda like tonight. I was so coiled up inside—pissed at myself for making that error that cost us the game.” He told Liza about Nikki’s invitation, his bad decision to accept it, and that he’d taken a cab out to the party. Liza listened attentively, but only made eye contact with quick glances.
“I stood in front of the villa and debated whether to go in,” he said. “But I didn’t feel like partying, and I really didn’t want to see Nikki again. So I left. She must’ve seen me outside, and that’s why she sent the tweet. I swear I never saw her. I mean, I walked to the causeway and called a cab.” He reached over and gently swept his fingers beneath her chin, guiding her head until she faced him. “Because I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
She furrowed her brow for a quick moment, confusion in her eyes. “I don’t understand.”
He sighed. “There’s something different about you. It’s no secret that I’ve dated a lot of women, and the media have been more than happy to publicize that.” He leaned close to her, his elbows propped on his knees, her hand in his. “But none of those women know me, including Nikki Barlow, and I’m not sure they really want to. They want my money, or my fame, or what they think is my glamorous lifestyle. But when it gets down to telling them I was the poor kid from Mebane, North Carolina, whose alcoholic mother was sure she was going to hit it big every time she spent our welfare money gambling in Atlantic City, I don’t think they’d understand. And they wouldn’t want to hear that my father wasn’t around—whoever he was—and my mom was always in a bar, or off with her latest boyfriend. Or that my grandma raised me, scraping for every cent so I could play travel baseball and maybe land a scholarship.”
Liza gazed at him intently.
“But you met me when I was an eighteen-year-old poor kid who was at baseball camp because of someone’s charity. There you were, the Hall-of-Famer’s daughter. You knew where I came from and what I was all about—but you liked me anyway.” He could hardly believe what was coming out of his mouth, but he kept talking. “You were the first person who didn’t seem to judge. Anywhere I went in my hometown, people knew me as the drunk lady’s son.”
Liza clutched his hand. “I’m sorry,” she said sincerely. She hadn’t lived that kind of life herself, but she’d worked with boys like him at the camps run by BADD. Maybe that was why she seemed to relate. Or maybe that’s just who she is.
No wonder he was falling for her.
“So that’s why I sent you the tweet about the stars and the freckles. And that I wished you were there…” He trailed his fingers down a lock of her silky hair. “That was all true.”
She sat quietly for a moment, and he hoped she would say something soon. He’d gone and left himself vulnerable, and he didn’t like the feeling. He was amazed how this girl who might not be that into him had made him wish she were.
“I brought you something,” she said after way too long. She handed him the paper bag she’d brought with her.
He looked at her curiously, but she gave nothing away except her mouth quirking up at one corner. The bag crinkled as he opened it, and he pulled out a plain white napkin and a plastic bag. Inside it were four round sandwiches on white bread with peanut butter and jelly oozing out around the edges.
“Baseball PB and Js,” she said.
Cole stared at the sandwiches, thinking that no one besides her had ever done something this thoughtful for him. Even after she’d seen Nikki’s tweet and could’ve made all kinds of assumptions about what had gone on between them, she’d been thinking about his feelings instead of her own. Cole took her in his arms and held her tightly until a wolf-whistle pierced the silence. “Get a room.”
Cole recognized his roommate’s voice, and turned to see him heading for the elevators. “You’re in mine,” he teased.
He opened the plastic bag, pulled out two sandwiches, and offered one to Liza. She took it and they sat quietly, eating their PB and Js.
“Will these make me play better?” Liza licked some jelly from her lips and Cole got all kinds of ideas that had nothing to do with baseball or his grandma. He leaned over and kissed her softly, then rested his forehead against hers.
She leveled her green-eyed gaze on him. “Only if you believe they will.”
If anyone could make him believe again, it was her.
He sat back and took another bite of his sandwich, thoughts of the game creeping back into his mind. He shook his head. “So much of baseball is mental.”
“That’s what my dad has always said.”
Cole grimaced before he could stop himself. He was still really pissed about the game, and the last thing he wanted to hear was what Sutherland had always said.
Liza sat back and narrowed her eyes. “What’s with you and my dad?”
She had to ask that question tonight of all nights. “What do you mean?” he asked, buying time.
“You seem to get tense whenever I mention him. And when you two were together at Sweet Bee’s, something just seemed…off.”
Cole leaned his head back on the couch and blew out a heavy breath. “I don’t really want to involve you,” he said gently, “in what’s between your dad and me.” He knew it was unrealistic, but he really did feel that way.
She gazed at him, her eyes looking darker in the dim light of the lobby. “So there is something.”
Cole dragged his hand down his face. He had to get this out there if he expected to have any kind of real relationship with her. “Your dad was the best coach I’d ever had,” he said. “I mean, he really knew the game, but he was even better at seeing guys’ skills and playing them where they belonged. And he didn’t put up with any crap from a bunch of cocky teenagers, either.”
“I know.” Liza nudged his shoulder. “I was one of them once, too.”
“I guess the short version of the story is that your dad was like the role model I never had. I really looked up to him. And your mom was so…motherly. Kind of like my grandma, but younger, obviously. I got the crazy idea that they were my adopted parents, sort of, as weird as that sounds.”
She smiled knowingly.
“So there I was,” he said, “with your mom being motherly and your dad paving the way for me to play at UNC. And once I was there, they’d come to my games sometimes and take me out to dinner. Before I graduated, they bought into the Orioles. I remember how excited they were.”
“Me, too. It was a huge decision for them. My dad was so thrilled to be able to stay so close to baseball, and my mom started BADD so we’d still have the camps.”
“Right before graduation, your folks and I were out to dinner one night.” He remembered the exact booth they’d been sitting in at the Outback Steakhouse between Chapel Hill and Durham. “And your dad really built up my hopes about being drafted by the Orioles. He said there was some behind-the-scenes negotiating going on, and he was sure things would work out.”
Liza drew her head back and lowered her eyebrows.
Cole pressed his lips together tightly. “But at the last minute, I was drafted by the Nationals.”
“The draft is so unpredictable,” she said. “My dad always wanted you to play for the Orioles, but he said the Nats snatched you up before the Os got their chance.”
“That’s what he told me afterward, too, but he’d been so certain about me going to the Orioles. I had my heart set on it.” Even though Cole was successful now, he couldn’t help but wonder what might have been if things had worked out with the Orioles—and with John and Sylvia. “It was a really awkward time. After that, we just drifted apart. I got a birthday card from them every year. A Christmas card, too, I think.”
“They s
till talked about you a lot,” Liza said, as if she thought he needed to hear that. “I figured you all were going in different directions with your teams, and just didn’t have the time to get together anymore.”
Cole shook his head, still feeling hollow from losing them. “They were like family…and then they were gone. I’ve always thought, when it came down to it, your dad changed his mind about me and the Orioles backed out of the deal. I can’t blame anyone but myself, but I spent years playing in the minors and blowing chances at the top because my head was so screwed up.”
Liza took his hand in both of hers. “I hate that that happened to you. But there has to be more to the story.”
He tensed. “Not my side of it.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Then it’ll be interesting to hear what my parents have to say about theirs.”
“I’d prefer you didn’t ask them.” He had spent all these years trying get past what had happened between him and her parents. He’d lived with his version of the story, too embarrassed and too proud—if that were possible—to try to make things right with them. But Liza was a make-things-right kind of girl, and if he was going to have a relationship with her, it would also have to include her parents. She didn’t say anything, just met his eyes with a measured gaze that told him she would ask them anyway.
“So imagine my surprise,” he said, “when I saw the tweet announcing you’d won the auction date.”
She nodded slowly. “Imagine mine.”
…
Liza’s head was spinning with all of Cole’s revelations. She sure hadn’t expected his story about Nikki Barlow. It was hard for her to believe he’d given up partying with a movie starlet because he was thinking about her. But he’d made a convincing argument that had made sense and tugged at her heart. He was definitely making himself harder for her to resist.
“Are you going to stay and go to the game tomorrow?” Cole asked, looking hopeful.