Since being mistaken for Gracie’s nanny, she became all too aware of her physical appearance. Abby had been addicted to jeans and T-shirts since junior high. After years of retail therapy, Bridget had abandoned all hope of rescuing her cousin from fashion hell. Pride wouldn’t allow Abby to expand her wardrobe in a lame effort to impress Nick. The look in his eyes had been clear enough. She stood out amongst player wives and girlfriends, and not in a good way.
Even if she had a lot of spare cash she would be hard pressed to fork it over on an overpriced label. Bridget had a body that looked good in anything from Gap to Gucci. Usually she wore outfits somewhere in between the two. Her five-nine, one-hundred-and-twenty-pound frame made a Hanes T-shirt look good.
Three inches shorter and five pounds heavier, Abby had a little more flesh to work with. An afternoon game in July meant she had to ditch the denim or risk succumbing to heat stroke. Glancing down at her chest she contemplated whether her friend from Bedrock would match her khaki capri pants. Ah, what the heck. By the end of the day it would be covered with beer and peanut shells.
Nick had learned long ago how to avoid temptation. At least he had something to show for his three-year marriage. Tonight’s party had been tame by most standards. Only a handful of women had propositioned him before he reached the door of his truck. He didn’t like any of them enough to share a drink with, never mind a set of sheets. In the eyes of the law he was a free man—the ink had long since dried on his divorce decree—but he knew better than to flaunt his status. Distance hadn’t solved all of his problems. A very big headache still loomed eleven hundred miles away.
Collapsing on his king-size mattress, he tried to ignore the vague restlessness that had plagued him for weeks. He had been solid both at the plate and behind it. His numbers were good, better than his past two seasons in fact. He was actually enjoying the game more than he could ever remember. Kevin was a kick-ass captain, who expected everyone to ditch their egos at the clubhouse door. This was not a town that tolerated prima donnas, which suited Nick perfectly.
The guys had accepted him the second he stepped off the plane at spring training. He considered several to be friends as well as teammates. No, his restless state wasn’t about the game or his new surroundings. It was a certain brunette, with a smart mouth and a curvy behind that threatened to derail his fresh start. He wasn’t even sure he liked her, and he knew darn well she didn’t like him, but that didn’t keep him from seeking her out. His past was littered with every flavor of eye candy. There had simply never been an Abby.
Not that she was a classic beauty. Bridget, with her auburn hair and enormous green eyes, was more typical of his taste. Nevertheless, a set of pale grey eyes and a mop of thick chestnut hair had suddenly grown in their appeal. Her cousin obviously was living a comfortable life as Mrs. Kevin Chandler, but she seemed to have little interest in snaring her own ticket into the million-dollar club. Instead of hanging all over his teammates, which she had ample opportunity to do, Abby actually seemed more focused on the game than the men playing it.
When she claimed an interest in Mark, he begrudgingly thought they’d make a good match. He had worked enough with the pitching coach to know he was a decent guy with a decent brain. The fact that he had been seen around the park with a string of different women had produced the only question mark in Nick’s mind. Now that he knew Abby was responsible for many of those faces, he couldn’t even hold that against him.
Curiosity almost had him seeking out more background information from Kevin. Unfortunately he couldn’t pull it off at the party. The captain made it clear he was all too aware of the time Nick had spent chasing after Abby that night. Judging from the expression on his face he didn’t seem pleased. Not that he could blame him. Kevin was one of the few people who knew part of the story behind his exile from Tampa. He might not have been responsible for the debacle, but Nick had willingly taken much of the heat in the gossip columns. From what he witnessed, Kevin treated Abby like a well-loved sibling. No man worth a lick would want his pseudo sister cozying up to someone with his baggage.
He was a mess. The only person convinced it would all work out in the end was his mother. The message she had left him today was to get his head out of his backside and move on. For the most part he had. He had loved Alyssa. Truth was, he still had feelings for her. Some good. Some bad. But he hadn’t been able to cleanse her from his system completely. She still called him at least once a week. Despite his intentions he almost always returned her calls. Yeah, there were definitely still strings there. Just not enough to bind them together.
Closing his eyes that night, Nick prayed his dreams would be of baseball and not lilac-painted toenails.
The game had been a close one. Too close in fact. It took Bobby Carpenter four innings before he dropped his curve ball. Abby couldn’t help winking at Mark when it was clear he had finally followed her advice. When a relief pitcher approached the mound in the middle of the sixth inning, the Bisons had managed to hang on to a one-run lead. It was enough to earn them a win.
By the time the ninth inning wrapped up Abby was practicing excuses that would let her ditch the post-game celebration. Today she really didn’t want to hang with everyone at Bartleby’s Bar and Grill. When she had pushed herself out of bed that morning she had vowed to discover a social life beyond the Bisons. No wonder she was dateless. Spending all of her free time with two tons of testosterone limited her exposure to real men.
“Are you feeling okay?” Bridget asked, pushing her hand up against Abby’s forehead.
Abby rolled her eyes, feeling like a five-year-old. “Perfect. I feel great. Maybe it would be nice for Kevin to spend time with his wife, minus her sidekick.”
Bridget turned, accidentally kicking over a can of diet coke. “Spill it, my friend. Who are you so desperate to avoid that you’re willing to ditch me without warning?”
“Spoken like a true drama queen. I’m not throwing you to the wolves. Consider this the next stage in your social development.”
Bridget tilted her head toward the empty field below. Her lips curved into a knowing smile.
“Cough it up. Is it Carlos or Nick that has you bent like a pretzel?”
Abby ignored the beads of perspiration pooling between her shoulder blades. “Shh, lower your voice. Post it on your blog if you want the world to know my business.”
Bridget scrunched down in her seat, leaning over the padded arm. “C’mon, tell me the truth. I promise I won’t even tell Kevin.”
Abby belted out a laugh that had her chair shaking. “Do not think I’m buying that line for a second. In five years you have not been able to hold one thing back from that man.”
Bridget’s fingers took hold of her wrist. “Prick me if you must. But I never share anything sacred.”
“Hello. What about the shamrock tattoo on the back of my earlobe?”
“That hardly qualifies as sacrosanct.”
“He told my mother, Bridget. I had to hear her squawk in that ear for over a year.”
Her cousin had the good sense to grimace. “It slipped out. He thought everyone already knew about it.”
Abby merely nodded. “We’re getting off track here. The truth is, I know you tell Kevin everything. I’m okay with that. But in this instance there is nothing, and I mean nothing, to tell.”
“Nick.” The single word rolled off Bridget’s tongue slowly. “I should have seen that one coming.”
“What does that mean?”
Releasing her wrist, Bridget took a quick look at the crowd of people heading for the exit. “It means your timing when it comes to men has always been lousy. You latch on to relatively nice guys, who happen to be in the midst of a major life crisis.”
Ugh. Hard to deny what was hardcore fact. Some mutant gene must rear its ugly head whenever she tried to make a love connection.
Abby sucked in a sharp breath. “Okay, I’ll admit I think Nick is cute. Not exactly a crime, when three quarters of the female po
pulation agrees with me.”
“Abs, we’re not having this conversation because you think the guy is hot. You like more than his mega-watt smile.”
Abby turned away, wishing she had a scarf that she could wrap around her mouth before she dug herself an even deeper hole. “Guilty. But it’s just a tiny, tiny crush that loses steam as soon as he opens his mouth.”
“Bull. You can’t resist someone with a tongue almost as sharp as your own. And Nick Valente is as close to your match in that department as anyone I’ve ever met.”
Abby winced. There were definite disadvantages to having someone know you better than you knew yourself. Fudging the truth about her feelings toward Nick was futile.
Lowering her head into her hands, she tried to explain what she really didn’t understand. “It’s crazy and dumb. And it makes me really angry that I can’t control it. But for some inexplicable reason I’m drawn to him.”
“Well, he does have that poster-child-for-sin-city look about him. Let’s face it, not many straight women would pass up a trip to that destination.”
A small giggle eased some of her tension. “The man has tossed insults my way since the first day we met. Yet yours truly would jump at the chance to be a frequent flier. That’s beyond pathetic.”
“True,” Bridget said, wrapping a protective arm around her shoulders. “But if it helps, you’re totally adorable in a junior high kind of way.”
Leaning into her cousin’s hug, she asked the impossible. “Unless Kevin brings up the subject, can you try and forget this conversation? My attention span is worse than a gerbil. In another few days I won’t even remember his name.”
“I’ll promise not to do a brain dump with Kevin, if you promise not to avoid our normal routine.” She lifted her head. “Starting right now.”
As if on cue Kevin emerged from a nearby tunnel. Dressed in street clothes he motioned them over with his hands.
“Get the lead out, ladies. I’ve got a beer with my name on it waiting for me at Bartleby’s.”
Two sets of eyes rolled in tandem. “Will you take him off my hands if I make a really sweet trade offer?” Bridget asked, latching on to the belt loop of her husband’s pants.
Abby slowly let her gaze fall from the tip of his damp hair to the bottom of his scuffed shoes. “Thanks. I’ll take a pass. Too much mileage. I’m in the market for something hot and zippy.”
Mischief danced in Bridget’s eyes. “Well, I can think of one mouth-watering catcher. Oops, I mean catch.”
Chapter Two
Pizza followed by a walk around Castle Island held a lot of appeal after a long, hot game. It would give him a chance to stretch his legs, which hadn’t completely healed from a muscle pull last month. Yeah, it was a good plan. Unfortunately, it was one he didn’t follow.
Displaying not an ounce of willpower, he followed the trail of cars to Bartleby’s. Knowing that they closed their doors to the public to accommodate the team was only part of the appeal. The other part of the appeal was currently perched on a stool, less than ten feet away, chatting up Mark Dufour. Hanging on his every word, she did a damn good impression of someone that was ready to jump bones. The fire in her eyes fueled an emotion that was too damn close to jealousy. Those two had a special connection, even if it wasn’t a love connection. His reaction was ridiculous since he had no connection with Abby to speak of.
Turning his attention back to Charlie Lopez, he missed the arrival of Kevin and Bridget. It wasn’t until the two joined the small group at his table that he registered their presence.
Either his imagination was in overdrive or Kevin’s wife was giving him the once-over. Her assessing look actually had him longing for the exit. It wasn’t until Bridget’s chair scooted across the scarred plank floor that he realized he was cornered. From the look on Kevin’s face he was equally baffled by his wife’s actions.
“Nice game, Nick.”
He nodded, hoping Kevin would step in and rescue him. When the silence dragged on he finally found his voice. “We seem to be hitting our stride at the right time.”
“That’s just what Kevin was saying last night.” Bridget turned toward the bar. Whatever she was up to, it was obvious she didn’t want her cousin within earshot. “I have to be honest with you. Sometimes people put me in an awkward position, asking me to do small favors here and there.”
A small trail of perspiration found a home along his backbone. Spit it out. He was beginning to fear this would lead to a discussion of Abby. Which considering the company held about as much appeal as a tractor pull.
“Anyway, I apologize up front,” Bridget said, pushing a thick tuft of hair away from her face. “Sue Ellen Norris has been pressuring me for an introduction.”
“Excuse me?”
“Apparently our local Katie Couric wannabe has mistaken me for a dating service. She’s called me three times in the past week begging for your number.”
A strange mix of relief and disappointment washed over him. He wasn’t sure who the hell Sue Ellen Norris was, but he knew he didn’t want her to have his number. If Abby McCabe had been the one itching for his information, he was afraid he would have been coughing up his cell phone number in a heartbeat.
Kevin’s face now registered resignation. Apparently this was a road his wife had been down a time or two before. “I guess being the captain’s wife isn’t all glamour and glitz?”
“Heck no. I have more wrinkles than I can count thanks to all of you babe magnets. I thought about setting up an escort business but Kevin adamantly refuses to put aside a slush fund to cover legal costs if I get my butt carted off to jail.”
Nick blinked. That was something he expected to drop from Abby’s mouth, not the more refined lips sitting in front of him. “Holy hell, Kevin. You really do have your hands full. Between your wife and her cousin, I can’t imagine you rest easy at night.”
Kevin’s eyes never left his wife’s face. “She’s a curse and a gift all rolled in one.”
Bridget’s foot connected with the front of her husband’s chair. “I’m not above knocking you on your mighty fine butt in front of your macho friends. Tell the truth. I’m the reason you wake up each morning with a smile on your face.”
Kevin wrapped both of his hands around his wife’s tanned ankle. “That’s not the only thing I wake up with, sunshine.”
Bridget’s hands immediately covered her face. “You’re impossible.” Kevin’s hands nestled in the back of her hair. “Don’t beat yourself up over it, honey. C’mon. I’ve taught you how to handle defeat with dignity.”
Watching the light banter between the two was another reminder of why his marriage had failed. Alyssa never learned how to laugh at herself. She could land a verbal punch, but never figured out how to be on the receiving end of one.
“Nick, can I offer a bit of advice?”
He could tell by the look on his friend’s face that he was at least half serious.
“There aren’t enough headache remedies on the market to make a date with Sue Ellen Norris seem like a smart option. Keep a wide berth if she comes within shouting distance.”
Bridget turned her head once again. “Speaking of pain relief, I should probably rescue Mark. Abby has her pen out, which can only mean one thing.”
As Bridget set off on her rescue mission, platters of food arrived at the table. Grabbing a handful of wings, Nick allowed his gaze to follow her trail. The sight of Abby scribbling notes on Mark’s arm almost had him coughing up blue cheese.
Kevin shrugged. “Abby has a nasty habit of cataloguing the five worst plays of the game. There are always at least two that involve our pitching staff.”
“Is she for real?”
“Sometimes I think Abby takes the game more seriously than I do. The bitch of it is she’s almost always dead on with her assessments.”
Nick continued to watch the scene play out before him. “Mark doesn’t seem to mind. Looks like he’s hanging on her every word.”
Kevin bit
into a stalk of celery smothered in sauce. “Yeah, they’d make an interesting pair.”
“Sounds like you’re hoping.”
“Mark’s solid. Has his act together. So, no it wouldn’t bother me if it went beyond friendship.”
Nick wasn’t quite sure if the jab was deliberate. The message was clear though. His face must have registered that those words had hit a nerve.
“Hell, that wasn’t a swipe at you. Even if you were looking, I’m pretty sure Abby wouldn’t hit your radar screen.”
It was a fair statement. One he actually would have agreed with six months ago. Still, it didn’t sit well hearing it from someone else. “What makes you say that?”
“I wouldn’t exactly describe Abby as easy on the nerves. At least until you drill through her suit of armor. The right guy is going to have to put in a lot of work to win her over.”
“And I don’t strike you as patient enough?”
Kevin blasted him with an icy glare. “Again, it wasn’t a criticism. I just know you’re coming off a rough year. I figured the last thing you’ll be looking for is a challenging female with no guaranteed payoff.”
Nick ran a napkin across his lips. “Did you get similar advice when you set your sights on Bridget?”
Kevin’s face broke out into a boyish grin. “More times than I can remember. Made me want her even more.”
Nick bared his own teeth in a forced smile. Kevin wasn’t a fool. His grin faded when he realized Nick’s meaning. If anything Abby just became even more tantalizing.
The Catcher and the Lie Page 2