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

by Mindy Klasky

  Shit, Green wasn’t a kid. He just acted like one, with his Ferrari and his laid-back attitude. But his advice was right on point, as accurate as his throws from center field. There was always a she. There was always Haley.

  If only Adam could figure out what to say to her. If only there was something to say to her. Because he could never, ever take back the words he’d already used, the hurtful things he’d said to the woman he loved.

  The woman he loved…

  Shit. The words scared the hell out of him—but only because they were true. He’d lied to himself for weeks now—for years, really. He loved Haley Thurman.

  It was only this last road trip that he’d allowed himself to admit how much he missed her. He missed calling her after the games. He missed sending her texts in the middle of his day. He missed saving up stories, ideas, random thoughts that they could bat around at the end of the day.

  He missed everything about her—about the girl he’d known his entire life, about the woman he’d discovered far too recently.

  But missing her was light years away from doing anything about it. Because deep down, no matter how much he loved her, no matter how much he longed to talk to her, no matter how much his body screamed to be with her, he knew they had no future. Because he’d told her the truth. Because he really did put the kids in BUNT ahead of the animals in her shelter, and he’d do that every day, forever.

  He looked back at Green, who was shaking his head like he’d never seen anything as sad as Adam. “Call her,” the kid said.

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “Tell her you screwed up.”

  “I didn’t—”

  “Maybe not about this. Maybe not about whatever caused your last fight. But you’re a guy. You screwed up something. Figure out what it is and tell her you’re sorry. Let her know what’s really important.”

  “Out of the mouths of babes,” Adam said.

  “Fuck you,” Green said amiably, and then he shuffled off to vacuum up some money at the poker table. Adam stared out the window and tried to figure out an answer he could live with.

  ~~~

  Haley looked around the room nervously, trying to gauge whether her guests were having a good time. No matter how many times she told herself that Paws was different from the Sartain Foundation, she kept drawing comparisons between this silent auction and the gala Adam had hosted.

  The Foundation had fed its guests gourmet food. Paws had gone with an inexpensive animal theme—goldfish crackers and gummi bears, scooped into paper cups that bore images of different dog breeds. The Foundation had offered an elaborate mixed drink, along with free beer and wine. Paws had gone with childhood favorites—lemonade and fruit punch. The Foundation had rented out a swank hotel ballroom, while Paws was taking advantage of the assembly room at a local church.

  “This is great, Haley!” She turned around at the enthusiastic shout, only to find herself enveloped in Michael’s arms.

  “Thanks,” she said when her brother finally let her go free. “I just hope people are bidding.”

  “You’re not checking?”

  “That seems a little rude, doesn’t it? I figure I should let people wander at will, write down their offers. The last thing they want to see is some vulture peering over their shoulder.”

  Michael said, “I’ll go spy for you.”

  “Would you?”

  He laughed, and she joined in. She really had been transparent, hadn’t she? “Thanks,” she said, brushing a kiss against his cheek.

  As her brother ambled away, Kate took his place. “Well, the good news is, our supply of food and drink is holding out.”

  Haley frowned. “That sounds like there’s bad news.”

  Her assistant shrugged. “Not any worse than we expected. We both knew this was a long shot.”

  Haley fought the urge to wince. “How far off are we?”

  “It’s too soon to tell. We’ve got the big live-auction items to go.”

  “You’re ready for that?”

  Kate tapped the microphone pack hooked to her belt. “Ready and waiting. I figured we should give them another five minutes for the silent items, and then I’ll let loose.”

  “Perfect.” But it wasn’t perfect. It was so far from perfect that Haley wanted it all over now. She wanted to head home to the comfort of her crazy dogs, to her welcoming cats. She wanted to cuddle with Spike, to ease the new cat’s transition into the household full of animals. He’d come out from under the bed last night, but he still had the boys’ room to himself. She wanted to bring in a laser pointer, to let the poor animal play.

  She shouldn’t be so desperate to escape the fundraiser. Paws was her job. When—if, she reminded herself firmly—the organization failed to raise the money for the Reeves farm, she’d still have to go into the office every day. She’d still have vendors to wrestle with, policies to implement, animals to place at shelters across the country, if she couldn’t make room for them in the current cramped quarters.

  And there was still a chance she’d succeed. A minuscule one, certainly, but a chance that Paws could raise the money it needed to buy the farm.

  Michael sidled up to her, Billy in tow. “And?” she asked.

  “They’re bidding,” he said, but he refused to meet her eyes.

  She punched his biceps. “Don’t lie to me, big brother.”

  “Ow!” Michael exclaimed, rubbing his arm. He shoved Billy to stand between them. “Go on,” he said to his brother. “You tell her.”

  “They’re bidding,” Billy repeated, ducking and offering up a mock look of terror as he shielded himself from her blows. “Some of the items are going well—especially the restaurant meals. But it’s all going to turn on the live auction.”

  Which she’d known all along.

  “Thanks,” she said.

  Before she could figure out something else to push down the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, Kate scrambled onto the stage at the front of the room. “Ladies and gentlemen!” she called out, setting off a vibrating scream of feedback. Her fingers flew to the microphone pack, adjusting the volume, and she eased to the far side of the stage, safely away from the speakers. “Ladies and gentlemen,” she repeated. “Thank you for joining Paws for Love for our first annual fundraising auction. Not that we plan on making it an annual thing,” she corrected herself. “So make sure you maximize your donations tonight!” The easygoing audience laughed.

  As Kate went through a lighthearted explanation of Paws’ plan for the Reeves farm, Haley looked around the room. She recognized person after person, recalling individual stories about who had adopted which pet. There was the couple who had taken in two pit bulls, committing to months of care to guarantee that the abused animals would feel safe in their new home. There was the woman who had taken in the tabby cat found at a construction site, the creature with mange so bad it had looked more like a rodent than a feline. There was the old man who had opened his home to one litter of kittens after another, fostering the tiny creatures until they were old enough to be adopted out to forever homes.

  These were good people. They were generous people. She had to trust that they would make her dreams come true.

  The first item up for live auction was a dog house, to be designed by a student at the University of Raleigh. The enterprising architect had promised to build a house in any style requested by the successful bidder, from a log cabin to Frank Lloyd Wright, from Bauhaus to Gehry. Kate struck the perfect tone as she worked the crowd, building excitement and raising the bids. In the end, four different bidders alternated for three full rounds. “Sold!” Kate cried out. “To the woman in the German Shepherd Dog T-shirt!”

  Haley started a tally in her mind, even as Kate made a quick note on the pad of paper she brandished like a weapon. And then Kate immediately launched the auction for the next item—a month’s worth of handmade dog food, prepared by one of the most exclusive chefs in town, a man who just happened to breed prizewinning Bedlington terrie
rs. A bidding war erupted between two of Paws’ board members. Haley was astonished when the package went for more money than she spent in a year on eating out in restaurants.

  Kate didn’t let the momentum die. She auctioned off twelve months of canine grooming at an upscale boutique. She pushed a seven-level cat tower designed by an engineer and built to fit any room of the winner’s choice. She eked out every last cent for a local author to write a short story featuring a pet, and when the bidding ended fast and furious, she convinced the writer to create a personalized work for each buyer, thereby doubling the take for Paws. Each time, she recorded the sales price on her pad, underscoring some numbers, scribbling in new ones.

  And then it was time.

  Kate called Haley up to the stage, introducing her as the executive director of the shelter and the woman behind the Reeves farm purchase. Applause rang out across the room, and Haley raised her hand to her eyes, trying to shield herself from the overhead lights, so she could make out the specific faces of her enthusiastic supporters. The lights were too bright, though. How the hell had Kate been spotting the hands that were raised to make bids?

  As if to help her, Kate handed over her notepad. Haley could see the calculations Kate had sketched out, quick predictions for the silent auction bids, easy totals for each of the live items. Kate had done some hasty math, and one number was circled at the bottom of the pad: $82,000.

  That’s what they still needed, to succeed. More money than she earned in a year, twice what Kate got. It was too much. It had always been too much. Through her own headstrong pride, she’d committed Paws to an impossible project.

  But Kate wasn’t going to admit defeat. Instead, she launched into a spirited definition of Pet Ownership University. The successful bidder would be acquiring Haley’s time to study and diagnose behavior problems for one owner, for up to six pets. She would create an individual training program for each animal in the household, personally conducting the classes two times a week for four months. In addition, Haley would be on call, day and night, for any crisis that arose among the animals for the entire time the University was in session.

  “All right,” Kate proclaimed. “This is our grand prize of the evening. Let’s start the bidding at one thousand dollars.”

  One thousand dollars. A couple of months ago, Haley would have laughed at the notion that her time was worth that much money. But if the past two months had taught her nothing else, she’d learned that good people donated to support the causes they believed in—even when those donations meant paying absurd amounts of money for common items like a coconut cake or a detailed car.

  Even so, they would never get the bidding up to $82,000.

  Haley was gratified by the number of bidders who stepped up for Kate’s opening amount. She grinned as Kate worked the crowd, adding bids in increments of one hundred dollars. After a couple of minutes, most of the bidders had dropped out, but there were still a few earnest supporters trying to buy her time. The cost of the package edged up to five thousand, to six.

  “Seven thousand dollars!”

  Haley recognized the nails-on-chalkboard voice before she could pick out a face in the front row of the crowd: Missy Newton. For the first time since bidding began, the room fell silent.

  “Excuse me,” Kate said. “You do understand that Pet Ownership University is for owners of pets, don’t you?”

  “I understand,” Missy grated, stepping forward so that the stage lights caught the brassy blond of her hair. “I own the stock of Fab Fidos, every animal. They’re my pets, unless I choose to sell them.”

  Haley could argue the point. She could stand there on the stage and tell everyone in the audience that Missy Newton was the worst thing for dog-lovers since puppy mills began. Haley could launch into an explanation of how the poor breeding animals were overworked, how they produced litter after litter without regard to their own often-fragile health. She had the statistics at her fingertips—about inbreeding, about disease, about why Fab Fidos should be avoided like the plague by anyone who truly loved animals. Missy’s “pets” were doomed, well before the harpy ever sold them to an unsuspecting buyer.

  As Missy gloated, Kate took a step back on the stage, looking at Haley for guidance. Before Haley could make up her mind what to do, Missy said, “That is, unless my money isn’t good enough for you. If you think my dogs are less worth training than the mutts you have in your shelter.”

  All pets’ lives have a value. That was Haley’s mantra. That was the bedrock on which she’d built Paws for Love. And maybe, just maybe her training could counteract some of the terrible genetics she was certain Missy had introduced into her miserable excuse for a pet store.

  “Take the bid,” she told Kate.

  “Seven thousand dollars,” Kate said.

  “Seven five!” rang out from the middle of the crowd. Haley almost laughed; she recognized Billy’s voice before he stepped forward. Her brother stepped up to edge of the stage, nodding his head like some sort of cowboy in one of the cheesy westerns they’d watched as kids.

  “Seven six,” countered Missy, her voice ratcheting up half an octave.

  “Seven seven.” This time it was Michael who stepped forward, doing his own perfect imitation of a knight in shining armor. Haley’s heart swelled inside her chest. Her brothers knew about her long-standing feud with Missy Newton. Hell, they’d fed it, back in the day.

  “Seven eight,” Missy squeaked, tottering forward on her ridiculous spike heels. She’d poured herself into an incredible outfit for the auction—a scarlet strapless top that revealed a lot more of her cleavage than it covered and black pants that looked like they’d been painted on, from the low dip at her waist that pretty much confirmed a recent Brazilian wax to the stranglehold on her ankles. She waggled her fingers at Michael and Billy, flashing a blood-red warning as she did her best to imitate Marilyn Monroe. “Don’t fight with me, boys.”

  “Seven nine,” Billy said.

  Haley wanted to jump off the stage and kiss him. Her brother didn’t have money like that. Billy and Michael together couldn’t afford to donate that sort of cash to Paws.

  Nevertheless, the bidding proceeded. Kate wisely let the three competitors fight it out among themselves. The tension in the room thickened like the air beneath a summer thunderstorm as they edged past eight thousand, nine, ten.

  It was too good to be true.

  “Ten thousand, three hundred,” Missy declared with yet another helium giggle.

  Billy looked at Michael and shrugged. Michael looked at Billy and shook his head. Haley’s lips tightened at the frustrated expressions on both their faces. She knew they wanted to help her. They wanted to save her from Missy’s puppy mill stock. But there was only so much two guys could do. There was only so much cash they could scrape together.

  And the worst thing was, even Missy’s money wouldn’t be enough. The shrew would write her check, and Haley would be committed to four months of indentured servitude. But even after the astronomical sum hit the Paws bank account, Haley wouldn’t be able to buy the farm.

  She’d fought a good fight. But she’d lost. Two months, four events, and tens of thousands of dollars later, she was coming up short in the home stretch.

  Kate recovered before anyone else did. “Ten thousand, three hundred,” she called out. “Going once.” She looked around the room. Haley followed her gaze, feeling like she owed a personal apology to every person standing there. “Going twice.” Tears welled up in Haley’s eyes, and she swallowed hard. She hadn’t cried in public since she’d dropped her ice cream cone at her first grade birthday party. She wasn’t about to break that streak now.

  “One hundred thousand dollars.”

  The crowd’s collective gasp seemed to drain every atom of oxygen from the room. People whirled toward the double doors, automatically seeking out the speaker.

  “E-excuse me?” Kate asked, peering from the stage.

  But Haley didn’t need to peer. She didn’t need to c
rane her neck for a better view. She didn’t need to do anything but lock her knees against the sudden trembling that threatened to knock her flat on her ass.

  Adam stepped forward, accepting the aisle that appeared in the crowd as if it was his right. “One hundred thousand dollars. For the services of Ms. Haley Thurman, and her Pet Ownership University.” He stepped onto the stage like he owned the place.

  The crowd roared with speculation. Adam’s name was passed around from person to person; his face was recognizable enough, even for people who weren’t true baseball fans. He was a local hero.

  Haley caught the looks of astonishment on her brothers’ faces; they obviously hadn’t put their friend up to this. Missy Newton’s cheeks were starting to match her bandeau. She was clearly as shocked as anyone.

  Haley took advantage of the chaos to clutch Adam’s arm. “You don’t have any pets,” she said.

  “I’ve been thinking about getting some.”

  “What are you doing here?” Her voice went up on the last word.

  “Making a bid.” He stopped and looked out at the crowd, as if he’d only just realized they were there. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Is this an invitation-only event?” He shoved his hand into the pocket of his pants. “I’m sure I’ve got one somewhere.”

  “No. I mean, you— You’re welcome to join us. But… I…” Use your words. Before she could force her brain to stop spinning around on its hamster wheel, he took his hand out of his pocket. He extended it toward her with the easy grace he used to catch a high fly ball on the warning track.

  A black velvet box nestled in the center of his palm.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, backing away.

  He frowned. “I thought that was pretty clear.” His fingers worked the lip of the box, snapping it open to reveal a shimmering diamond ring.

  She heard the crowd around her. She knew they were jostling closer, competing for a view, leaning in to hear whatever Adam said, to pick up however she responded. She was on a stage, for God’s sake, at the front of an assembly room in a church basement. Everyone was watching.