Delay of Game (Dating Mr. Baseball Book 1)

by Lucy McConnell

Dad muted the TV. Elise turned to look at him, but he just flipped the remote over and over in his hands.

  “Dad?”

  The dam finally burst and Dad’s words spewed out with as much regret as anger. “I’m sorry, Elise. I’m sorry you feel stuck in a job that’s keeping you and Blake apart. I’m sorry you feel like you have to fill in for me. I’m letting you down.”

  Elise bolted upright. “Dad, no! I love being here and I love my job. It’s what I’ve always wanted.”

  Dad fiddled with the remote. “Do you, uh, do you love this guy?”

  Elise shrugged. She wasn’t sure. They’d had so little time together, and yet she loved what she saw in him. “I like him.”

  “You shouldn’t be afraid to be with him, and it’s my fault. If I was working, you could quit—”

  Her heart dropped. “Don’t put this on your shoulders. It’s Coach Wolfe’s rule—not yours. Besides, I knew the rules and played with fire. This is on me.”

  Her phone beeped and Blake’s number popped up. I’ll call you when we get back to the hotel.

  She shook her head. Emergencies only.

  This is an emergency.

  Blake …

  My old tire-changing injury is acting up.

  She smiled at the screen.

  “That look, right there,” said Dad.

  Elise glanced up. “What?”

  “That’s the look of a girl in love.” Dad got to his feet. “Do you remember when you were six and you kept stepping out of the box?”

  Elise nodded. She’d been hit by a pitch in the first inning and got a nice bruise on her back that hurt for days. The pain scared her enough that she stepped out of the batter’s box at every pitch during her next at bat.

  “And what did I tell you?”

  As she put on her batting helmet, fighting a stream of tears, her dad had pulled her aside. His strong hand on her shoulder and his comforting gaze had calmed her troubled mind.

  “You said that sometimes I gotta take the hit to get on base, because that’s where I was supposed to be.”

  “Yep.” He lowered his chin. “Think about where you’re supposed to be and then get there.”

  Elise struggled against the tears. She couldn’t count the times she’d gone back to that advice while rehabilitating her knee, changing her career path, and even moving home. She’d taken hit after hit, but all those lumps and bruises had gotten her to her dream job—where she’d met Blake. Maybe all those lumps weren’t leading her to the Redrocks. Maybe they were leading her to Blake. Like her dad, baseball was her first love, but she had yet to find her true love.

  Blake’s face filled the television screen. After a moment of admiring his square jaw and the happy-tired look in his eyes, she dropped her face into her hands. Dad had never had to choose between his first love and his true love. No matter how she looked at it, this stupid no-dating-players rule was tearing her heart in two.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Blake switched his phone to the other ear as Elise laughed. The sound filled him up as he sat in his empty hotel room. Alone tonight, he wanted to be with her more than ever.

  He’d had a good game, and he and Coach Wolfe had talked a bit in the locker room after. A few more days of building a good rapport and he could ask Coach to lift the dating ban—or make an exception. He wasn’t looking for a flyby with Elise. A girl like her, she was the real deal. The endgame, not the pregame.

  Next door, Jackson Kimber was entertaining every Redrocks fan in Colorado with loud music and a lot of booze. Blake banged on the wall, hoping they’d turn the music down so he could hear better. Someone banged back.

  “Blake?” Elise asked. “Can you hear me?”

  “Just barely.” He turned up the volume on the phone.

  “What’s going on?”

  “There’s a party next door.”

  “Oh.”

  “I’m going to talk to Wolfe about changing the rule.”

  The line was quiet. He pulled his phone away to make sure they hadn’t been disconnected. “Elise?”

  “Do you think it will work?”

  “I do. He was strict when he first got here because he had to be. But he’s settled in a bit, and maybe, if I promise we’ll be discreet, he’ll let up.” The line was quiet for a minute. “What?”

  “Dad got turned down for another job today. He’s low.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Blake, I want to be with you, I just … I’m scared. My family’s counting on me right now.”

  “I know. I promise I won’t do anything that will mess with your job. If Coach says no, we’ll figure something else out.”

  “’Kay,” she replied softly.

  Several people pounded on his wall, drowning out the rest of Elise’s comment. He’d worked for this phone call and these guys were messing it up. “I’m going to have to call you tomorrow. I can’t hear a thing.”

  He caught a quick “’Night” before the phone went dead. Growling, he yanked open his door, stomped past the bouncer, who gave him a “’Sup,” and found Jackson running his hands over some woman.

  “Hey!” he yelled over the music.

  Jackson offered a fist bump. “Glad you could make it. There’s a cooler of beer around here somewhere.”

  “I’m good. Hey, can you turn the music down?”

  Jackson cuffed his shoulder. “Got something sweet going on next door?”

  “She’s back home—I can’t hear,” he yelled, pointing at his phone.

  Jackson’s face clouded over. “Don’t tell me it’s that new PT. You guys were like lovesick puppies the other day.”

  “I’m not telling you nothin’.” Blake backed out.

  “She’s not bad—have you tried her out?”

  “Shut up.” Blake glared.

  Jackson grinned.

  “Just turn the music down.” Blake refrained from calling Jackson a few names as he ignored Blake and went back to his companion.

  Blake stormed back to his room, disgusted. Disgusted with Jackson, and disgusted that it wasn’t that long ago that he would have stayed and danced with a few girls—just to pass the time. The clock on the nightstand read 2:54 a.m. He couldn’t call Elise back and he was too ticked off to sleep. Yanking the phone off the cradle, he called the front desk and complained about the party next door. Yeah, he was breaking one of the players’ rules—you don’t rat out your teammate—but he couldn’t get over the look on Jackson’s face when he mentioned Elise.

  Fifteen minutes later, the music shut off and Jackson’s door slammed. Blake looked through the peephole and saw Owner Harper Wolfe and Coach Wolfe headed towards the elevators. He cringed and hoped Coach Wolfe didn’t know it was him who’d called in the complaint that got the two of them out of bed. Maybe he should put off talking to him for a couple more days.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The Redrocks flew home from Colorado late Saturday night and had to be up early Sunday morning for a home game against Boston. Blake wasn’t pitching, and every time he went past the PT room, Elise was busy. He planned to talk to Coach Wolfe as soon as things slowed down again, but that meant he was forced to say hello through text.

  He didn’t want to say hello over the phone. He wanted to say a very personal hello, lip-to-lip, but that wasn’t going to happen unless he could get her alone. Alone didn’t happen all day Sunday, so Monday morning he was starving for her.

  They lost their first game against Boston—by a disappointing five runs. Blake had a morning meeting with the new team psychologist. He ended up spilling a little about being homesick and how his parents hadn’t made it to Colorado. Dad had a conference and Mom wouldn’t fly alone. Dr. Norris recommended scheduling a trip home. Blake agreed that it was a good idea, only he didn’t tell the good doc that he wanted to take Elise with him. His mom would love her.

  After shaking hands and saying goodbye, Blake made his way to the locker room to suit up. Jackson came from the direction of the PT room, a smirk on hi
s face.

  “What’s with you?” asked Blake as they walked through the doors.

  “I was just enjoying a little PT.” Jackson’s grin widened. “But you know what that’s like, don’t ya.” He smacked Blake’s stomach. “She’s a fireball.”

  Blake hardened his jaw.

  Jackson rolled his arm around. “Really knows how to get a guy to loosen up.”

  Blake lunged, shoving Jackson back several feet. “Knock it off!”

  Jackson took a second to recover from the shock and then charged Blake. Blake was ready, his chest heaving, his fist cocked. Rex Barns hit Jackson from the side, knocking him off his target. Ross Ketcham grabbed Blake from behind, pinning one arm against his side.

  “Cool it!” yelled Pablo Santacruiz, the pitching coach. “You—” He pointed at Jackson. “Cool off in the showers. You—” He pointed at Blake. “Get dressed and hit the bullpen.”

  Blake stared down Jackson, waiting for one flinch so he could go at him again.

  Jackson shook off Rex and stomped to the showers.

  Blake turned to Coach Santacruiz, hating that he might have just messed up his chance to date Elise. Wolfe told him that if Elise was a distraction, she’d be fired. He had no doubt Wolfe would follow through. “You gonna tell Wolfe?”

  Pablo shook his head. “He’s got enough troubles right now.”

  Blake swallowed. He had no idea what Pablo was talking about, but if Wolfe was in the middle of something, changing his dating policy wasn’t likely to happen. And starting fights in the locker room wasn’t the best way to get on his good side. He changed as fast as he could and jogged to the bullpen. He needed to throw something.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Elise cradled the phone, fighting back the tears as she recounted the few moments she’d had in the locker room with Jackson Kimber. His suggestive comments bordered on crude, and in the middle of it Coach Wolfe had walked in. “And right in the middle of Coach and Kimber yelling at each other, Coach’s wife walked in.” It was bad enough to be on Coach Wolfe’s bad side, but to have the owner in the middle of all this was killing her. She didn’t worry about Kimber. He wasn’t her boss and didn’t have the power to cause her any real problems. “Mrs. Wolfe said that Jackson has a mandatory round of sexual harassment classes now. I doubt he’ll bother me again.”

  “He won’t.”

  Elise caught the edge to his voice. “What happened?”

  Blake sighed. “We got into it in the locker room, before the game.”

  She bit back a curse. “Blake Tyrell Rygs.”

  He laughed.

  “This isn’t funny.”

  “You looked up my middle name?”

  She couldn’t help herself; she smiled. “For your information, Jane’s the one who Googled you.”

  “Anything out there I should know about?”

  “Just your prom picture.”

  He coughed. “Really?”

  “Really. Really.” Her heart dragged her down like a weighted practice ball. “Blake, we can’t keep doing this.”

  He didn’t like the reserved note in her tone. “Doing what?”

  “Every time we talk I fall a little harder, deeper. I can’t keep doing this knowing it can’t go anywhere.”

  “I’m going to talk to Coach. I just needed to make sure he didn’t hear about me and Jackson today.”

  “That’s exactly what Wolfe was worried about. He didn’t want it to interfere with the team, and look at what happened.” She ran her hand down her ponytail and flipped it over her shoulder. “Blake, we’ve got to just put it aside. I can’t afford to lose my job and you can’t afford to mess things up with Coach Wolfe. You love baseball and I won’t be the reason your career takes a nosedive.”

  “My career is fine.”

  “For now. I-I gotta go.” She had to get off the phone before she cried. If she caved and he offered even the slightest chance, she’d take it.

  “Elise. Don’t.”

  “Bye, Blake.”

  She hung up the phone and hugged it to her chest. All her life she’d been told there was no crying in baseball. Obviously, Tom Hanks hadn’t been in love with a pitcher.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The next three days were the worst of Blake’s life—and that included prom, where he almost ended up in jail.

  He stayed out of the PT room, knowing that even the sight of her would be too much to withstand and he’d end up on his knees begging her to be with him. Or—and he liked this idea much better—he’d pick her up and haul her off. Or—and this one was equally inviting—he’d lock them in the supply closet and kiss her until she saw things his way.

  By the third day of sending unanswered texts, he was done.

  The whole situation was unfair and stupid. He was an adult, for heaven’s sake. He should be able to date whomever he wanted. Coach could go pound sand.

  Marching into the PT room, he pulled up short when he saw Elise, her eyes rimmed with red and her whole being weighed down. Had he done this? His determination ebbed. She sniffed and pulled herself together. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” Not wanting her to dart away, he crossed the room on soft feet. “You okay?”

  “Fine.” She swallowed. “Did you need something?”

  “Just you.”

  Her lip trembled. “Blake.”

  “Let’s go to dinner after the game and talk.”

  She shook her head.

  He reached for her, unable to be this close and not touch her. He knew it would be like this, knew it would be hard in the best of ways. And he still came. “It’s just dinner.”

  Elise closed her eyes, fighting some inner battle. When she opened them, they went wild and she pulled away from him. “I can’t.” Her response was reluctant, not offended nor angry but resigned. She hurried into the storage room where they kept things like icepacks and gauze.

  Blake turned to find Coach Wolfe in the doorway. “You son of a …”

  Isaac folded his arms. “Nobody bats a thousand, kid. You can’t get all the girls.”

  “I don’t want to bat a thousand. I want her.” He pointed to the open storage room door. “Thanks to your edict, she won’t have anything to do with me.”

  “Mixing romance and baseball is a bad idea.”

  “Says the coach who married the owner.”

  “I—well—”

  “That’s what I thought.” Blake bumped past him and headed to the locker room. Jackson had better stay out of his way today.

  Chapter Twenty

  Elise poked her head out the closet door. Blake had gone off on Coach Wolfe. It was nice to know how he felt, but it would have been better—for both of them—if he’d been calmer. “Is he gone?”

  Coach sighed. “For now. I don’t know how long he’ll stay away. We can have him take those classes with Jackson about workplace behavior and sexual harassment.”

  Elise threw her hands out. “No—he’s nothing like Jackson.”

  Wolfe stared at her as if trying to figure something out. Was it so hard to believe that she and Blake could really be in love? That Blake wanted more from her than a fling? If anyone had asked her that question a couple weeks ago, she would have told them that yes, it was hard to believe. But since then, she’d discovered the kind, funny, loving man under the image.

  Whatever Coach was thinking, he kept it to himself. “Can I get some menthol cream?” he asked.

  Relieved he hadn’t fired her, she replied, “Sure.” She retrieved a new tube from the supply closet. “Make sure you wash your hands after you apply. This is strong stuff.”

  “I will, thanks.” Wolfe squirted some of the minty gel into his palm and then worked it into the back of his neck as he left the room.

  She sagged against the massage table. Maybe she could quit the team and just go ahead and date Blake. Work was miserable the last few days, knowing he was in the building but not near enough to touch.

  Camden breezed through, grabbing his wallet out of his de
sk. “I’m off for sushi.”

  She waved, staring at a speck on the floor and not seeing anything. He didn’t bother to stop, too excited to spend time with his girl. She flipped on the television and found the game.

  Blake was pitching today. He hadn’t gotten his pregame workup and she hoped he’d done a good warm-up. She cleaned a few machines, listening for Blake’s name to come up. As a relief pitcher, he wouldn’t get to the mound until the sixth inning or so. Around the third inning, Coach pulled Vito Ramirez, who was lobbing melons across the plate, and called in Blake.

  Blake pitched well enough, his anger clear in the set of his jaw. Elise prayed he could make it through the game.

  The Redrocks put away three batters and were up to bat. When Blake came up in the lineup, she glued her eyes to the screen. The camera zoomed in on his face, and she gasped. Blake stalked to the plate like a lion on the hunt. He jerked his chin to the pitcher and then lifted one side of his cheek in a cocky grin.

  Elise wrapped her arms around herself, afraid she might just explode with the combination of desire and nerves coursing through her veins.

  The first pitch was outside and Blake let it go. He stepped out of the box, adjusted his grip on the bat, and jerked his chin at the pitcher again, daring him to put one over the plate.

  The next one was inside. Again, Blake let it go. Two balls, no strikes.

  He had the pitcher right where he wanted him. Blake fouled off a breaking ball and a slider. “Come on,” she whispered.

  Another foul ball and the count was 2 and 2.

  Shoot.

  Another foul ball had fans scrambling in the stands.

  “Throw him a fastball,” she encouraged. Blake loved fastballs. They were his sweet pitch. Unfortunately, the pitcher knew that too, and he sent another curveball towards home. Another foul.

  The pitcher wound up and threw heat over the plate. Blake smacked the ball over the shortstop’s head, where it dropped ten feet in front of the centerfielder.

  “Yes!” Elise jumped, throwing her hands in the air.

  The third base coach waved Juan, who had a massive lead off second plate, towards home as the outfielder scooped up the ball and sent it on a long flight towards the catcher. He held it as Turk, who had been on first, dove for the third base bag and Blake slid into second with a giant “WHOOP!” He pointed towards the dugout. “That’s it, baby.” He bounced on his bag.