From Left Field: A Hot Baseball Romance (Diamond Brides Book 7)

by Mindy Klasky

  Shit. He was lousy company anyway. Time to go to bed, pack in the morning, and see Haley after the team got back above .500.

  ~~~

  Haley stood in the center of the parking lot, waving as the last of the car wash customers turned onto the main road in front of Paws for Love. The Saturday traffic was brutal. That had been part of Haley’s master plan—she’d hoped drivers would prefer to avoid the crowd and spend an hour in a parking lot, sipping a soda and eating a donut while their car was detailed by eager volunteers.

  And her prediction had been right.

  It was the detailing that got people’s attention. Any high school activity club could provide a basic car wash. Paws for Love had upped its game, though. They’d advertised full detailing, and they’d delivered.

  When it became obvious that dozens of Raleigh drivers were eager for properly cleaned cars, Haley had rolled up her figurative sleeves and gotten to work with the rest of her staff. In the past three hours, she’d vacuumed gallons of Cheerios out of back-seat crevices. She’d sprayed vats of blue ammonia onto windshields, wiped away streaks of things she didn’t want to imagine. She’d polished hundreds of tires, leaving the rubber gleaming like it had just rolled off a factory floor.

  Now, as the last car rolled off the lot, Haley was hot and sweaty, grateful that she’d opted for shorts and a T-shirt, despite a day that had started off in chilly fog. Kate approached with a lockbox and a triumphant smile. “Almost eight thousand dollars!” she announced.

  The staff cheered and gave each other high fives. Haley laughed at their enthusiasm. “Thanks, guys. We couldn’t have done it without everyone pitching in.”

  She watched as they moved toward the shelter, boisterous and giddy. Kate led the way, asking if anyone could believe how filthy that minivan had been, the one where the second seat was matted with dog fur.

  Eight thousand dollars. That was the difference between a couple of buckets of soapy water and high-end supplies. But even as Haley gathered up the last of the squeegees, she knew the haul wasn’t anywhere near enough. Sure, they’d put any ordinary car wash to shame, the same way they’d run rings around a regulation bake sale.

  But they’d managed to raise what? Fourteen thousand dollars so far? They were raising too little money, and they were running out of time.

  Pet Ownership University. That was the only possible hope for Paws.

  Haley shuddered as she thought of the work the University would entail. She believed she was tired now, after a single day of physical labor. How would she feel after putting countless pets through their paces? After grappling with owners who refused to do what was right, refused to work with her, instead of against her? How exhausted would she be after dealing with Missy Newton, with an army of Missy Newtons?

  She shook her head and pulled her phone out of her pocket. In anticipation of the day’s hard work, she’d slipped the device into a plastic bag before she’d left home that morning. She was pleased to see that her planning had paid off; the phone was dry and undamaged as she checked the time.

  The sun was bright enough that she could see her own reflection on the sleek black face of the device. That reminded her—she’d planned on taking pictures throughout the event, photographs to use for future fundraising, to show interested donors how hard the Paws staff worked.

  Well, she’d missed the chance for action shots. But she could still take a selfie, to memorialize the day. She turned her back to the shelter’s front door. Facing the brilliant sunshine, she smiled and clicked.

  And she was mortified when she checked the results of her handiwork. Between water and sunshine, her T-shirt revealed every stitch of her bra. She might as well not have bothered with a top at all.

  She started to delete the picture. But even as her finger hovered over the miniature trashcan on the phone’s control panel, she had another thought. She certainly couldn’t share the photo publicly. But there was no reason she couldn’t use it in a little … private communication.

  Shaking her head at herself, she sent the photo to Adam with a few quick taps, adding the message, “Another successful fundraising event. Go Paws! Thinking of you.”

  It wasn’t like she was sending him some boudoir shot. It was just a little pick-me-up. The guy needed something. The Rockets were in the midst of a killer losing streak—six games and counting. And going against Kansas City’s ace at 4:00, they weren’t likely to stop the slide any time soon.

  Haley used her shoulder to push her way into the lobby at Paws. Her staff was gathered around the front desk, still trading war stories from the event. She lugged her armful of squeegees back to her office, dumping them all in a corner until she could figure out a better long-term storage solution.

  Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She fished it out and swiped in her password. A picture waited for her—sleek, grey baseball uniform pants, zoomed in to catch only the hips. A pair of hips that she knew surprisingly well. A pair of hips that framed an impressive bulge.

  She scrolled down to pick up the message Adam had sent along with his photographic commentary. “Two can play at that game. Congrats on the car wash. You’re still going down.”

  Her cheeks heated at his words. He had to be issuing a challenge, boasting that the Foundation was still going to outpace Paws for funding. The double entendre had to be an accident.

  But when she glanced at the photo again, she knew Adam had meant every single letter he’d typed. And she curled her fingers in frustration, because a seven-day road trip was exactly seven days too long for him to be away.

  CHAPTER 7

  A week later, Adam eyed the massive steak knives on the table and wondering if he’d made a really bad mistake. He should have thought this through before he’d invited Michael and Billy to Artie’s. He’d be a hell of a lot safer at some fast food joint, where all the knives were plastic.

  Time to man up.

  “Thanks for coming,” he said. “I appreciate it, on such short notice.”

  “Yeah,” Michael drawled, leaning back in his chair. “My social secretary had a hell of a time clearing my schedule.”

  Billy smirked. “Hell, I just told mine this was an event I couldn’t miss.”

  Shit. They both knew exactly why he’d invited them here. And they were going to milk this conversation for everything they could.

  He nodded at their glasses. “Want another drink, while we’re waiting for our food?” He should have slipped Artie an extra twenty to get their steaks on the grill faster.

  “Nope,” Michael said, although he helped himself to a long, slow sip of Four Roses. “We’re both fine.”

  Time for Adam to get to work then. Time to tell his oldest friends in the world… He stared at his own glass, wondering when it had gone empty. He looked around for the waitress, but she was nowhere in sight. He chickened out on his big confession and said instead, “I hope you guys didn’t have any money on today’s game.”

  Michael, the asshole, actually started smirking. But Billy looked earnest as he said, “Would you cover me if I did?”

  “Right,” Adam said. “And then I’d be in worse shape than I am with this Reiter shit. The League loves a guy who gambles.”

  Billy snorted and looked like he was willing to talk about the game, ready to ask what had happened in the bottom of the sixth when the Rockets’ four-run lead slipped away. And Adam was just desperate enough to avoid the real conversational topic that he was willing to dissect the loss—the pitcher’s inability to pick off a guy stealing second, another guy hit by a pitch, a goddamn balk. He’d even toss in a dissection of his own throwing error to second—it was fair game, if only he didn’t have to say what came next.

  But Michael wasn’t playing that game. Michael just looked him in the eye and said, “Sounds like you’ve been spending a lot of time over at our house.”

  It’s not your house any more.

  What do you mean by “a lot?”

  Who told you?

  But Adam might as w
ell act like he had a pair. “I have. And Haley doesn’t seem to have any complaints.”

  Billy was the one who asked questions. Billy was always the one who asked questions. “Does she know the three of us are having dinner tonight? Did you tell her you’re asking our permission?”

  “I’m not asking your permission, asshole,” Adam said, keeping his voice light. “I’m telling you what’s happening. I’m giving you two a chance to tell me every way this is fucked up, so we can get past it all and still drink a beer together in Haley’s kitchen.” He purposely emphasized her name, just a little. She’d be royally pissed when she found out the three of them had gotten together like this.

  Michael said, “Does this mean you’re backing off on buying the Reeves place?”

  That was a fair enough question. Adam said, “I still want it, but I don’t know if I can string together the financing. An army of investigators is crawling up my ass with this Reiter stuff, and my personal accounts are pretty much locked down until we figure out exactly what’s going on. That’s why I held the gala. We got close, but I still need more. So no, I’m not backing off.”

  “And Haley knows that?” Billy sounded shocked.

  “She knows.”

  “And she’s okay with it?”

  “We’ve agreed to fight fair. After all, we’re neighbors.”

  “Shit,” Michael sighed, stretching the word with disgust. “What the hell is it with you two? Neighbors don’t…” But he trailed off.

  And Adam knew what his problem was. Screw, fuck, a dozen other verbs—they were all things neighbors didn’t do. But neither did sisters, at least in their brothers’ minds. The guys didn’t want to think about him and Haley, they didn’t want to consider even a chance that she was like all the other women he’d bullshitted about over the years, all the women on the road, all the women who’d become casual stories he’d shared with these two men who were like his brothers.

  Haley was different. He knew that. He’d known that for a long time, even if he’d only taken action a few weeks earlier.

  Haley was different, but her brothers had no reason to trust him for saying so. “Look,” he said. “I’m not going to apologize. I’m not going to pretend it isn’t weird. But this thing between Haley and me…” He paused, trying to figure out how to put it into words they could accept. “It’s there. It’s real. And we both want it.”

  That was enough for Billy—he shrugged and sealed his acceptance with a gulp of his high-end microbrew.

  Michael, though, stared at Adam with unblinking eyes—the same hazel gaze as Haley’s. Adam thought of all the times they’d fought as kids, all the rough and tumble matches that boys thrived on. He’d broken Michael’s arm in an overachieving game of tag, marking a first visit to the emergency room. Michael had knocked out two of his baby teeth. They’d both taken kicks to the gut more often than he cared to remember.

  But Michael said at last, “You’re grown-ups.”

  Adam exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He reached for his glass, ready to touch rims and be done with this entire conversation.

  But Michael wasn’t done. He leaned forward, planting both his palms on the table. “Let’s get one thing clear, though. If she adopts another animal when she’s done with you—anything, even a goldfish—you’re a dead man.”

  Adam swallowed in a suddenly dry throat. “There won’t be any more animals. Not because of me. You have my word.”

  That might not have been enough. But Artie chose that moment to show up at the table with a loaf of sourdough bread, a pot of soft butter, and a promise that their steaks were on the way. Adam probably only imagined the speculative look the old restaurateur gave the steak knives as he offered to bring them another round of drinks.

  ~~~

  Haley stared at the detailed map of the Reeves farm. Brightly colored flags staked out every one of the stalls in the stables—she had enough funding to secure that building. A scattering of brave markers designated the barn. The bright green paper made her heart twist in her chest—Paws was so close to securing another building!

  Of course, that left the old dairy, the smokehouse, and the long-disused stand-alone brick kitchen. Not to mention the farmhouse itself… And the minor problem that they couldn’t actually buy the farm piecemeal—this was an all-or-nothing deal.

  But staking out the territory they’d conquered made Haley feel better. It bolstered her sense of purpose. Paws was almost half-way to its goal. Unfortunately, they’d spent far more than half their time. Only two weeks remained before the Reeves’ deadline.

  Kate poked her head into Haley’s office. “Don’t forget! We’ve got a phone conference scheduled at three, with that shelter in Charlotte.”

  Haley had forgotten. She’d forgotten just about everything except for strategies to get the farm. But she smiled and thanked her vice president, automatically reaching for the proper folder on her desk. “How many dogs did they say they could take?”

  “Fifteen, for now. Maybe more in August.”

  Fifteen dogs, transferred to a different city. It was an expensive way to protect the animals. They had to be transported, provided with food and water along the way. The receiving shelter would require full documentation, veterinarian certificates for every animal. But arrangements like that built lifelines, saved innocent animals.

  That was the overall strategy for Paws to succeed—they needed to expand the pool of people who would consider adopting animals. Haley plucked at the hem of her old Rockets T-shirt. There had to be a way to build more public awareness of Paws, a way to reach out to large crowds of people.

  Crowds like baseball fans, storming the park on game day.

  “Kate?” she called out, and was rewarded by the immediate reappearance of her second-in-command. “When was the last time we had a community adoption program?”

  “You mean bringing animals out to the public?”

  Haley shook her head. “Not like the ones at the pet store. I know we do those every month. I’m thinking of something bigger. Sort of like the Paws to Refresh we talked about last month, reaching out to animal lovers en masse.”

  Kate smiled tolerantly. “I thought you were the one who decided that sort of street fair was more than we could organize by our June 1 deadline.”

  “That was when we were talking about building the entire event, creating an experience from the ground up. What if we went to where the people already are?”

  “What people are you thinking of?”

  Haley tested the idea one last time, rolling it over in her mind and then she said out loud: “Raleigh Rockets fans.”

  “The baseball team?”

  Haley’s grin grew. “The city blocks the streets off around the stadium before games. Vendors are already selling food and drinks. We could set up an adoption fair just inside the perimeter, take over one side of the street for one block. We’d need crates, of course, so the dogs could take a break if the crowds get to be too much. Food and water, too. We could promise to keep all the adopted animals until after the game, or arrange for pick-up within a week.” She spoke faster as the idea grew.

  Kate laughed. “Blast-off to a Forever Home!” she proclaimed in a dramatic voice.

  “Pups at the Park,” Haley countered. “Every animal we give away is one we don’t need to find housing for immediately. And we can launch a special campaign for donations—not just from the adopters, but from all the fans who walk by.”

  Kate’s lips twisted into a thoughtful frown. “We’ll need to get permission from someone. We’ll probably need a permit. I don’t know if it’s the team, or the city.”

  “Will you make some calls?”

  Kate was already scribbling notes on a pad of paper. “We could put a bow on each dog, red and blue to show their team spirit.”

  “Perfect!” Haley laughed at Kate’s enthusiasm. “Let me know what you need from me.”

  “Well, as long as you’re asking…” Kate’s voice trailed of
f suggestively.

  “What?”

  “What about players join us? Having them sign autographs would be a huge draw. We could probably raise a few thousand dollars just on that. You’re friends with Adam Sartain, right? Could you ask for his support? See if he’ll bring other players along?”

  Adam. Signing autographs for Paws supporters, just outside of Rockets Field. Like he’d really agree to help her out like that.

  But why not? She’d attended his Foundation gala. A wry voice at the back of her mind reminded her, And that turned out so well.

  Well it had. After she’d left in a huff. Because she’d left in a huff. She and Adam would never have gotten over the hump in their relationship if she hadn’t gone to the gala. They never would have realized that they felt more for each other than just being neighbors. They never would have had the most scorching sex she’d ever imagined in her life—at least for the couple of nights he’d been in town since the event…

  She had to clear her throat before she could answer Kate. “Let me talk to him. I’ll see if he can help us out.” What was the worst that could happen? Adam could say no. And if he did, she’d make damn sure he’d make it up to her.

  When she turned back to the Reeves map, she felt more hopeful than she had in weeks.

  ~~~

  Adam stretched as he climbed out of his car, trying to ease the tightness in his lower back. The team had won in extra innings, beating Cleveland by a run in the bottom of the eleventh. But they never would have needed to play past nine, if he hadn’t bobbled a ball near the wall in the eighth. He’d cost the Rockets’ pitcher the win he deserved, and the ultimate result of the game was bittersweet.

  He automatically glanced over at Haley’s house. The front light was on. Before he could decide to shuffle across the grass, though, a low voice came from one of the wicker chairs on his own porch. “Looking for me?”

  There was a smile in Haley’s words, and he saw why the moment she stood to greet him. She wore a Rockets T-shirt—and nothing else. Before he could say anything, her mouth was hot against his, her lips yielding as he folded her into his arms.