Abby concentrated on Mark. Keeping her eyes connected on him, she ignored the prickle of awareness that danced across her spine. Apparently her acting skills were slipping.
“What’s the deal, Abs?”
In an effort to delay the inevitable, she pulled a worn rubber band from her back pocket. With deliberate care, she wrapped her mop of dark hair into a messy twist, securing it on the back of her head.
“I know you like giving, not receiving, advice but I’m going to cross that line today.”
For about the billionth time Abby wondered why she couldn’t fall head over heels for Mark Dufour. Despite his disappearing hairline he was a total hottie. Too bad neither one lit a fire under the other.
“Don’t go down that road with Nick. At least not right now.”
It was a rare treat when Mark launched a surprise attack. “My brain’s a little beer-addled. I’m afraid you’re gonna have to be more specific.”
The steady beat of his fingers on the back of her stool almost dulled her defenses. “That man has had a bitch of a year. We both know you’ve caught his eye. He’s not ready for the likes of you, so don’t tempt him.”
A small tickle spread down her throat, unleashing an ear-splitting coughing spasm. Tempt him. What was he smoking? When oxygen finally returned to her brain, she let loose.
“Have you been smoking crack again?” She tapped her forefinger against his temple. “Something is killing your brain cells, Dufour. Frankly, you don’t have a lot to spare.”
The thin lines around his mouth tightened. “Abby, I’m being serious. You’re more than most guys can handle.” Mark’s eyes rested briefly on a nearby table. “He’s liable to be the one who would walk away hurt. Remember that, okay?”
Abby didn’t agree with Mark’s observation. She was always the one left licking her wounds. Nick Valente would undoubtedly leave crater-sized sores when he walked away from a woman.
“I’ll store that away for future reference even if I think you’re losing touch with reality.” Hanging over the bar, Abby grabbed a pen from a glass underneath. Picking apart her personal life wasn’t nearly as enjoyable as picking apart a ball game. “Do you want to start in chronological order, or should we target the most egregious errors first?”
Mark winced as her pen dipped perilously close to his palm. “No red ink this time, Abby. That stuff takes a week to wash off.”
For the next twenty minutes she immersed herself in dissecting the game. It was one topic that neither one grew tired of, even if it meant ink stains from fingers to elbow. When Bridget squeezed between them with talk of food, they reluctantly gave up their stools and joined the nearby table.
After her counseling session with Mark, Abby decided it was probably wise to grab a free seat as far from trouble as possible. Her good intentions backfired when she realized she had positioned herself directly across the table from Nick. Unless she dropped her head under the table, which would probably raise more than a few eyebrows, she couldn’t avoid eye contact completely. When the heel of a sharp sandal connected with her shin, she bit back an oath. Since the whole mind-reading thing only produced marginal results, she decided to ask outright why violence had reared its ugly head.
“Okay, that’s going to leave a whooper of a bruise,” Abby hissed, quietly directing her comment at her cousin perched across from her. “Next time pass a note.”
Bridget’s eyes narrowed. “Meg just sauntered in. Thought you’d appreciate a heads up.”
Holy crap her life was on a roll. Rolling in the wrong direction, which was not really a surprise. Meg had a king-size axe to grind. Her primary goal in life had been to spread misery in Abby’s direction. Sadly, her success rate had been pretty impressive.
If she thought it would save her an ounce of aggravation Abby would have hauled her butt out of Bartleby’s in an instant. Unfortunately that hadn’t proven an effective deterrent in the past. The smell of Obsession almost sent her into another coughing spasm. Maybe she should tell Meg to cut back to a gallon behind each ear. Save the money for her next round of Botox.
A soft chorus of hellos greeted the new addition at the table. The guys, being guys, made every effort not to swallow their tongues when Meg slid her sculpted butt onto Mark’s lap. Everyone, with the exception of Nick, had witnessed her antics enough to know the routine. Kevin subtly moved all open containers out of Bridget’s reach. Mark rolled his eyes, mostly for Abby’s benefit.
A flash of light caught her eye. She had known this day was coming, but it still stung.
“I wanted to share the news with all of you in person,” Meg said, extending her left hand across the table. “Ty popped the question last week up in Toronto. We’re officially engaged.”
It was a rock. Nearly as gaudy as the girl wearing it. But that had been the point. Abby offered up a silent prayer for Meg’s much-better other half. This was a victory lap. Other than Bridget, who looked like she wanted to hurl, everyone else seemed slightly relieved.
Abby pushed back from the table. Thirty seconds later she returned to her seat with two bottles of champagne. “Congratulations.” Passing the bottles down to Kevin to do the uncorking, Abby ignored the shocked expressions on Meg and Bridget’s faces.
In ten minutes it was all over. Meg had fluttered off in her barely there skirt, leaving behind a now silent group. Nick broke the ice.
“I think a prayer circle might be appropriate.”
Abby welcomed the release of tension. “Because…”
“Any fool willing to walk down the aisle with that woman needs about as many prayers as he can get.”
Nick’s mouth settled into a smile, and in that moment, a small wall around her heart had been breached. The realization left her stomach churning, posing a threat to yet another pair of his shiny loafers.
As soon as Bridget dragged her purse off the back of her chair, Abby knew it was safe to bolt for the door.
“What’s your day looking like tomorrow?” Bridget asked, reaching over to squirt a dollop of hand sanitizer into Abby’s palm.
She groaned, hating that her Sunday was already shot to hell. “I have to finish grading about a dozen seriously flawed papers on Shakespeare and finalize my fall book reviews for Ed.”
“I thought you were going to cut back at the paper. Maybe drop the entertainment stuff completely.”
Abby hated talking work or money with her cousin. Bridget was a little too far removed from worrying about financial obligations to really grasp Abby’s situation. “Maybe next spring. I’ll see how my roof survives this winter.”
“I guess that means Gracie and I will be dining alone.”
Kevin was heading out in the morning for a ten-day stretch. Even though she had been living the lifestyle for over five years, Bridget still struggled with the bouts of separation.
“Hey, why don’t you pencil me in for ice cream sundaes at seven? Or is that going to mess up Gracie’s bedtime?”
Kevin’s arm curled around her neck in a loose hug. “Thanks, Abs. My girls would be lost without you.”
Stepping out into a narrow alley that fed into a private parking lot, she kicked around the idea of hitting Brigham’s on the way. The last thing she needed was another four hundred calories, but an ice cold raspberry lime rickey sounded like a slice of heaven. Maybe it would dull the tiny ache that lingered over Meg’s bombshell.
A heavy thud signaled the arrival of someone only steps behind her. The sun was still high on the horizon, providing ample light in the nearly deserted lot.
“You okay, McCabe?”
Three words and she couldn’t control the slight tremor in her legs.
“Fine and dandy, sugar candy.”
Nick pulled up short. “You really do have a one liner for everything. I’m not sure if I’m impressed or concerned.”
Abby smiled, her first genuine reaction in forever. “I have that effect on a lot of people.”
“Thumbs up on the champagne,” Nick said, leaning back
against the hot metal hood of her ancient Honda. “Your friend Meg was blinking so much I thought she’d lose a false eyelash. Everyone, including the future bridezilla, seemed shocked by your celebratory gesture.”
It was a subtle probe. Most of the guys knew the back story. Hell, too many of them had witnessed Bridget’s attempt at creating a wet T-shirt contest on an otherwise slow night at the bar. Back then, Abby had been too paralyzed to act on her own behalf. Discovering that Tyler, while on a relationship sabbatical from her, was banging Meg punctured more than her spirit. The fact that Meg’s white tank top had smelled like a week old keg only added to the tawdry tale. At least everyone now knew her cousin had a mean throwing arm.
Abby dropped her purse on the bumper and eyed the man lounging next to her. “Long, not particularly flattering, story. Hopefully today was the final chapter.”
His eyes settled thoughtfully on her profile. “I’m going to stick with the trite and say he didn’t deserve you.”
Confusion dotted her face. “What?”
“Tiger,” Nick drawled, “wasn’t up to your standards. So, don’t mourn his loss for more than a day or two.”
She needed to sit. Placing one foot on the bumper, she hauled herself onto the grill of the car. “Cute, but it’s Tyler not Tiger. And he was old news, certainly not worth a tear-stricken face.”
“And yet, you would have cried, if it hadn’t been for a devoted fan section hanging on your every word.”
“Lucky day. I land the only aspiring Dear Abby on the Bisons roster.”
The car dipped as he dropped an additional two hundred pounds of dead weight next to her. “Consider it my charitable contribution to the community.”
Beneath the sarcasm, albeit well hidden, was an empathetic ear.
Abby cleared her throat. “I’ll give you the condensed version. Tyler covered the sports beat in Boston for a few years. We met at a game, dated for a millisecond, took a breather when he moved to Toronto.”
The unexpected feel of Nick’s hand on her shoulder derailed her train of thought. “Let me guess, Meg sauntered into the picture.”
“Spot on, Inspector Gadget. Here’s the twist. Meg came damn close to being my sister-in-law a few years back.”
“Whoa,” Nick said. “Dodged a bullet there.”
“Exactly. I helped derail the relationship, clueing my clueless brother in, on some of Meg’s extracurricular activities.”
“Ah, the fog clears. Tyler was a payback.”
“Kind of a two-for-the-price-of-one special,” Abby added, sliding her hands underneath her knees. “Although I think my brother long ago exorcised her memory.”
“What about you?”
She raised her hands over her head in mock surrender. “I might have felt a tiny prick in the area of my heart.”
“Speaking of pricks…”
“Stop, before you say something that will make me want to laugh and wash your mouth out with soap at the same time.” Abby softened her rebuke by nudging his foot with her sneaker. “Crisis averted. Thanks for keeping my cheeks free from mascara.”
He turned, taking stock of her face. “You don’t even own a single tube of that crap.”
“True,” Abby said, not sure what that said about her as a woman. “But I make up for it in lipstick and nail polish.”
His gaze dropped to her sneakers. “Let me guess, blood red nails today?”
“Nah,” Abby said. “A soft fuzzy peach more suited to my personality.”
Nick shook his head. “I’m going to buy you a mirror. We’ll start you on a twelve-step program.”
Hitting the road was never a hardship. Even when he had worn a ring on his finger, stepping on a plane always spiked his pulse. Maybe Alyssa had been right. He was happier when he had an escape hatch.
He had been avoiding her phone calls. Despite everything they had been through, he couldn’t cut her off completely. Their split had left her isolated, with few friends to lean on. It worried him enough to have him picking up the phone on a regular basis. He made a mental note to return her call before the end of the road trip.
Last night’s game had been a costly one. Losing your ace relief pitcher, even for a few weeks, spelled major league trouble. It was too early for panic to set in, but a definite cloud hung over the team. Instead of grabbing breakfast with the guys, Nick buried his head in the newspaper. A quick check of the market told him his money was still growing at a healthy clip. The mess with Alyssa had hardly put a dent in his bank account. Even though his attorney had strongly advised against it, Nick had insisted on putting money in his ex-wife’s pocket. The pre-nup agreement had protected his assets but he wanted to protect Alyssa’s future as well. Hopefully, his generous financial gift would encourage her to focus on getting her life in order.
Sinking deeper into the low slung chair, Nick tossed his paper aside and watched the lingering suits pacing in the lobby. His life had been baseball for so long he couldn’t even imagine chugging through a nine-to-five day. It was too early to hit the gym and too dismal to hit the street. The steady beat of rain pelting against the enclosed atrium jeopardized today’s afternoon game. After six straight games without a break, it was probably a stroke of good luck for the team. Give everyone an extra day to ice down injuries and prepare for the final two games on the West Coast.
The smell of coffee pushed him out of his chair and across the lobby. Although he had tried to kick the habit at the start of the season, Nick now accepted the fact that he was a low-grade addict. Instead of abstinence he focused on limiting his intake to two cups a day. Filling a twelve-ounce cup, he grabbed two creamers before reclaiming his chair in the corner.
His growing addiction for a certain brunette was a much larger concern. It had been seven days since he cornered her in the parking lot at Bartleby’s. Unfortunately, that didn’t translate into a case of out of sight out of mind. No, Abby had occupied enough of his thoughts to leave him vaguely uncomfortable. He even avoided casual interaction with Mark and Kevin. They both seemed overly inclined to raise the subject of Abby, only to study his reaction. It was clear even without a declaration that they worried over her well-being. The message that he didn’t measure up had been quiet but clear.
As fate, or misfortune, would have it Kevin chose that moment to emerge from a bank of nearby elevators. Acknowledging his presence with only a brief nod, Nick hoped the team captain was en route to an appointment elsewhere. When a pair of chino-clad legs dropped into the chair next to him, he knew his good luck streak had officially ended.
“Forecast is calling for another two inches,” Kevin said, sliding his cell phone back onto his belt clip. “Looks like today’s game is a washout.”
Nick nodded. “Gotta love Seattle. Some of the guys could use the rest, so at least there is an upside.”
“Yeah,” Kevin said, “but they may try to tack on the makeup game to our closer on Sunday. Means we won’t fly out until Monday.”
“I bet you’re not looking forward to sharing that update with the missus.”
“Hell, telling Bridget is a walk in the park compared to Gracie. She does everything from crying to begging depending on her mood.”
“You’ll get no sympathy here. I’m guessing it’s a small price to pay for having two terrific girls waiting for you back home.”
Kevin smiled at him. “Absolutely. How are you holding up this trip? Haven’t seen much of you except behind the plate.”
Nick grabbed his coffee cup, swallowed back a large gulp. “I told you at the start of the season that you wouldn’t have to worry about babysitting me. I’m too old to be screwing around with curfew.”
Kevin cleared his throat. “Funny, not what I was driving at though.” He looked across the coffee table and lowered his voice. “I don’t give a hoot about what went down in Tampa. That’s your business. But I want you to know I’m around if you ever feel like talking.”
“I’m working through it. No major…”
Kevin rai
sed his hand to interrupt. “I’m not offering to be your psychiatrist. I’m not offering because I’m the captain of this team. I’m offering strictly as a friend.”
Why was male bonding so damn awkward sometimes? Kevin, in many ways, had come the closest to being an actual friend since he arrived in Boston.
“Thanks,” Nick said, weighing the risks of sharing personal information that involved other interested parties. “I’m not going to lie. Things got ugly for a while. I’m not trying to pass the blame but the rumors that did circulate were way off track.”
“Rumors usually are.”
“I never cheated on Alyssa. Honestly, never even came close to it.”
Confusion, not disbelief, crossed Kevin’s face. “Why not come out and deny it?”
“There was marital infidelity. I just wasn’t the one involved.”
“Holy crap,” Kevin said. “I’m sorry. Damn, that’s just wrong.”
Nick shrugged. He had spent too much energy being angry. “It happens. In this case there were other people with the team directly involved in the situation. Staying and playing ball in Tampa was no longer an option.”
Kevin scratched his head. “Did the organization stand behind you?”
Nick emptied his Styrofoam cup and tossed it into a small metal trash can. “They were in a no-win situation. Let’s just say, they did what was right for the organization and for the fans. I have no beef with them.”
Kevin glanced over his shoulder. “Even though the visibility sucks, I was thinking of checking out the Space Needle. Maybe grab lunch there. You interested?”
Nick usually avoided local attractions when he was on the road. Most of the guys preferred to keep a low profile when on enemy soil. Today he figured he could use a little change of scenery.
“I’m in, as long as you don’t pull out a camera and start trying to capture the moment.”
Kevin’s hand swung out and swatted the back of Nick’s head. “All I need…a male version of Abby slinging verbal shots my way.”
“I’m flattered but I’m pretty sure Abby would knock you on your ass for that comparison.”
The Catcher and the Lie Page 3