For Another Day (One Strike Away Book 2)

by Mary J. Williams

  Nick didn't know how to respond without sounding… male. So, he flipped the subject to a different angle.

  "Why start a project like this?" Nick motioned toward the newly renovated backyard. "Why now? You could have waited until next year. What was the hurry?"

  "Not just a pretty face, are you?" Marsha said with a considering glance.

  "I appreciate the compliment. However, I'm certain the same thought crossed Rowan's mind a time or two."

  "Undoubtedly. But she didn't ask."

  "Because she's a good businesswoman. You wanted the job done, paid her well. Why question the goose and her golden egg?"

  "Interesting imagery." Putting her hands in the pockets of her unapologetically, un-politically correct sable coat, Marsha pondered the view—and Nick's question. "Rowan has talent. However, her success has come through bullheaded determination. There are people in this town—some very close to her—who tried to keep her down. More than she even realizes."

  Nick did a bit of pondering of his own. Someone close to Rowan. Someone who would be just as happy if she didn't succeed. Marsha didn't name names. She didn't have to. The only person who fit the bill was Leonard Cartwright.

  "Were you testing Rowan?"

  "Rowan tested herself. Otherwise, she wouldn't have taken the job. If the byproduct is the turning of a few previously skeptical heads in her direction, all the better."

  "Men don't like a woman in charge. I'll guarantee the hardline, good old boys won't change their attitude no matter what Rowan does."

  Marsha's eyes widened as if surprised by Nick's prescient observation.

  "Enough people have Rowan's back."

  "Including you."

  "Mm." The sound could have been interpreted several ways. Nick figured the hum was Marsha's way of agreeing with him, saving herself from saying the actual words.

  "What brought you to our town? And if you say the road, I'll smack your pretty face."

  Figuring a response of my SUV would end with the same result, Nick kept the quip to himself.

  "I'm on vacation."

  "In Jasper, Maine?" Marsha managed an expert eye roll. "Do you know somebody? Friends? Family?"

  "Do my reasons matter?"

  "To me? No. But you latched onto Rowan awfully fast. She matters."

  Nick wouldn't explain himself to Marsha Fredericks. However, the woman obviously cared about Rowan. He didn't mind eliminating a few of her concerns.

  "Rowan isn't in the dark about me or my business."

  "Fair enough." Marsha shivered, the pelts on her coat unable to block the frigid wind. "I've had enough nature for one day. Come with me."

  "Rowan will be back in a second. I don't want to leave her to do all the work."

  "You won't be gone that long." Marsha opened the sliding glass door. "Well?"

  Nick hesitated before following, curiosity getting the better of him. Besides, he would know the second Rowan returned.

  "I did some checking on you."

  Eyes narrowed, Nick crossed his arms, waiting.

  "Don't get pissy. I investigate everyone I meet. Sort of a hobby of mine. Another life, another time, I would have enjoyed working as a private investigator." Marsha poured herself a drink before offering one to Nick. "No? I heard you weren't much of a drinker."

  "Did you?"

  "I couldn't find much about you pre-baseball. Not that I care. I'm more interested in the man you are today. Ross Burton sang your praises to the rafters, by the way. Then wanted to know what the hell you had done and how much your escapades would cost him."

  "You know the owner of the Cyclones?"

  "I met Sherry Burton through our charity affiliations. Through her, I met Ross. Don't worry, I assured him you haven't been up to anything untoward."

  "I'm not worried."

  However, like any smart employee, Nick preferred to stay on his boss' good side.

  "After a nice, long conversation—not all of which concerned you—I've decided to trust you with something very precious."

  Opening a drawer in an antique armoire, Marsha picked something up, tossing it to Nick. He snagged the item midair, his second baseman's reflexes working without a second thought.

  "Keys?" Nick asked, frowning at two pieces of metal bound by a simple silver chain. "Unless these are made of platinum, I would hardly call them precious."

  "The keys are to a cabin in the mountains. You are welcome to use it for as long as you like. The person you're taking with you? She's more precious than any silly chunk of ore."

  "No arguments here," Nick muttered. "A cabin. For Rowan and me? I don't know…"

  "Ask her or don't. She could use a few days away." Marsha's expertly arched eyebrow rose a little higher. "Unless your interest in Rowan is different than I presumed?"

  Nick gently tossed the keys in his hand. He wanted to get away with Rowan. He'd imagined a four-star resort with twenty-four-hour room service and a huge tub they could use for sexy water games.

  However, Marsha's cabin might be a better solution. Complete privacy with no chance of anybody recognizing him. Nothing but Rowan. No interruptions. No distractions.

  "She might not be interested."

  "Smooth talking Rowan is up to you. Though something tells me you won't have much problem convincing her." Finishing her drink, Marsha set down the empty glass. "The directions for getting there are on the table by the door. I instructed my caretaker to fully stock the cupboards and refrigerator. If you need anything, give me a call. But I suggest turning off your phone. At least for the first day. You'll be amazed how freeing leaving technology behind can be."

  Without another word, Marsha exited, leaving Nick behind, grateful if a bit bemused. Sticking the keys in his pocket, he paused by the glass door just as Rowan arrived. Picking up the paper on the nearby table, he perused the contents.

  Handwritten on heavy, embossed paper, Marsha's directions were thorough, detailed, and left Nick little doubt he could find the cabin in full daylight or the dark of night.

  "I took a little longer than expected. The rest of the crew was ready to go. Before they went, I gave my word all bonus checks would be ready to pick up by the end of next week." Rowan grinned as she opened the truck's end gate. "I've never seen so many happy faces in my life. Now I know how Santa Claus must feel."

  "Any plans for the next few days?"

  Nick tried to keep his tone casual. Holding his breath, he waited for Rowan's answer.

  "Nope. Wonderfully free as a bird until after Thanksgiving." Picking up a bag, she paused. "I can't remember the last time my schedule was completely clear."

  "What do you say we get away? Just the two of us."

  Rowan threw the bag onto the truck. Turning, she met Nick's gaze.

  "Sounds great. Just tell me what to pack."

  CHAPTER TEN

  ● ≈ ● ≈ ●

  "YOU'VE ONLY KNOWN him two days."

  "Two days, seven hours."

  Rowan took two sweaters from her closet, adding a third just to be safe. On her bed, next to her open suitcase, sat her best friend. Full of questions.

  Angie Fiorina sported short, dark hair, a round, pretty face, and dark espresso-colored eyes. Smart, driven, full of fun, and fiercely loyal, she knew Rowan better than anybody.

  "You've already had sex. Now you're going away to some unknown location for who knows how long?"

  "Marsha Fredericks' cabin. But yes to the rest."

  "Who are you and what have you done with Rowan?"

  "I'll admit, Nick brings out a different side of me." Socks. Underwear. Toiletries. Condoms. Check. Check. Check. And double check. "You always said I should loosen up."

  "Did I sound like I disapproved? Just the opposite. I was about to ask if your Nick has a tall drink of water teammate I can borrow for a few days."

  Barely five foot two, Angie had a thing for men who topped her by a foot or more.

  "Sorry. Nick
hit town flying solo."

  "My misfortune," Angie sighed. Spying what Rowan planned to pack next, she jumped from the bed. "No. Absolutely not."

  "But the cabin will probably be cold."

  Angie snatched the thick, granny nightgown from Rowan. Shaking her head, she returned it to the dresser, handing Rowan a flimsy piece of silk instead. Another gift, best friend to best friend.

  Holding up the nightie, Rowan frowned.

  "What is the difference between this and naked?"

  "Watch Nick's eyes. You'll see the difference."

  Laughing, Rowan packed the pink silk. When Angie looked away, she snuck in the flannel nightgown more out of stubbornness than the idea she would actually wear the thing.

  "One piece of advice." Angie took the smaller of the two bags, following Rowan into the hall and down the stairs. "Don't fall in love with him."

  "We're having fun. Enjoying each other's company." Rowan hadn't told Angie why Nick was in Jasper. For one simple reason. Though she trusted her friend implicitly, the secrets weren't hers to share. "To quote Tina Turner, What's Love Got to Do with It?"

  "Just saying. You don't fall easily," Angie admitted. "But I've never known you to sleep with a man this quickly. Mistaking lust for love? Take a warning from somebody who's been there, done that."

  "Terry Reardon," Rowan nodded. "He was a jerk."

  "True." Picking up her coat, Angie donned the black, knee-length Anorak. "But jerks can charm part of the time. I was so bowled over by the instant chemistry, I convinced myself he was the one. Getting over my bruised heart was a lot easier than getting rid of Terry."

  "Nick's life is on the other side of the country. He will leave. Comparing him to clingy Terry isn't fair or accurate."

  "Knowing the relationship has a firm sell-by date is a good thing."

  "I agree."

  In all the years they had been friends, Rowan had never told Angie a deliberate lie. Until now. If she had a vote, Nick would stay in Jasper. She wanted the chance to build on their instant connection. To find out if there could be more.

  Rowan wouldn't say the L-word. Not even to herself. But she was honest enough to admit what she wanted. More time. More days and nights.

  More Nick. Period.

  The doorbell rang, ending the conversation.

  "Nick comes to the door?" Angie looked impressed. "The last guy I dated stayed in his car and honked. I was lucky if he actually remembered to unlock the passenger side. Most of the time, I had to pound on the window to get in."

  "Stop exaggerating," Rowan said as she opened the door.

  "Only a little."

  Grinning, Angie turned her full attention to Nick. What she saw had her letting out a low whistle of approval.

  Casually dressed in jeans, a navy-blue coat, and sturdy hiking boots, the ends of his dark hair peeked out from under a knit cap. But his face was on full display. Rowan knew what to expect, and Nick's good looks still sent her heart racing. She knew exactly the impact he had on Angie. Especially when he turned his smile on her for the first time.

  Gobsmacked covered the expression on Angie's face pretty well.

  Amused, Rowan took her heavy coat from the closet, checking to make certain her gloves and hat were in the pocket.

  "Ready?" Nick asked, holding the coat as she slipped it on.

  "All set. Nick, this is my best friend. Angie Fiorina. Angie. Nick Sanders."

  "Pleasure to meet you," Nick sent Angie a warm nod.

  "Believe me, the pleasure is all mine." Angie took Nick's hand. Looking up, she sighed. "Have any single brothers?"

  "I'm an only child." Nick's lips twitched, his eyes flicking Rowan's way. "Sorry."

  "I'll survive." Turning serious, Angie's grip tightened. "I love this woman. She's the sister of my soul. Bring her back in the same condition you found her, or you'll have me to deal with. Along with my five, big, burly, fight-loving brothers. Are we clear?"

  "Crystal."

  "Good." After patting his hand like she hadn't just threatened him with a beating, Angie hugged Rowan. "Have a good time. Call me if you need anything." She gave Nick one more, long, telling look. "I mean anything."

  "Down, Killer," Rowan chuckled. "I'll be fine."

  Nick picked up Rowan's luggage.

  "Can we give you a lift?"

  "Thanks, but no. I have my car."

  Rowan locked the house. The walk to Nick's SUV was made in a companionable silence, Angie content to have checked him out and issued her warning.

  "I like your friend," Nick said when the luggage was stored, and they were in the vehicle, buckling their seatbelts.

  Rowan didn't apologize for Angie's behavior since Nick wasn't offended and, if the situation were reversed, she would have done the same. Using different words. And her brother couldn't be counted on to swat at an annoying fly. However, the sentiment would be on point.

  "Angie's one of a kind. The good kind."

  "My mom used to say, you get your pick of friends, choose wisely." Nick slowed for a stop sign before pulling onto the street heading north out of town. "She was worried I would fall in with a bunch of deadbeats who only cared about riding my coattails."

  "Do you have somebody? A person to call when you're in trouble or just need to talk?"

  "Travis Forsythe and Spencer Kraig."

  "Teammates?" Rowan asked, trying her best to suppress a yawn, failing miserably.

  "Why don't you close your eyes? I'll tell you about two of the best men I've ever known."

  Rowan did as Nick suggested, trusting Nick to get them where they were going. The sound of his voice as he spoke of his friends, filled with affection, humor, even a trace of exasperation. They had his back. He had theirs. No matter what happened. A trade. Retirement. Even—God forbid—if one of them signed with a different team. He knew nothing could weaken the bond.

  "Sound like keepers."

  Rowan was nowhere near sleep, simply pleasantly relaxed.

  "Making friends with teammates is easy. We play toward a common goal. Warriors in arms—so to speak. But Spencer and Travis? We clicked on a different level."

  "I know what you mean. Sometimes—" Rowan groaned when her phone rang. She glanced at the screen. "My brother. Sorry. I really should take this."

  "Go ahead."

  "Hello, Geoff."

  "Where the hell are you?"

  Typical, Rowan thought, fighting the urge to hang up. Geoff couldn't begin with how are you? Or a common hello. He threw his words at her using an accusatory tone, as if the fact that she wasn't where he expected was a deliberate slap at him.

  "I'm on my way out of town."

  "At this time of night? Why? Are you alone?"

  Rowan and Nick decided to leave tonight while the roads were in good shape. If they waited until morning, the chance of snow might have turned into a certainty, making their trip a little iffy.

  If Rowan thought for a second Geoff's questions had to do with concern for her, she might have been more inclined to answer. However, since he rarely worried about anybody else, his curiosity was most likely self-serving.

  Besides, where Rowan was going, why, and most of all, with whom, weren't any of Geoff's business.

  "Why do you need to know?"

  Geoff heaved an exasperated sigh.

  "Rowan."

  "Geoff."

  "Get off your bitch horse and answer my question."

  "Tell him to fuck off," Nick said, his anger palpable. However, unlike Geoff, he pitched his voice low so only Rowan could hear.

  Shaking her head, Rowan laid her hand on Nick's thigh, her touch gentle.

  "Goodbye, Geoff."

  "Wait! At least tell me how long you'll be gone."

  "A couple of days. Three, maybe four at the most."

  Without another word, Geoff hung up. Rowan set her phone in her purse, rubbing her free hand over her face.

  "Your brother sounds like a
jerk."

  "Geoff is… difficult. For the most part, we get along."

  "What happens when he pushes too far?"

  "A lot of yelling."

  Rowan tried to avoid arguments. They never ended well, even when she won. Her superior vocabulary could reduce her brother to a muttering fool. Satisfying in the short run. Unfortunately, Geoff's way of getting even usually involved running to Mommy. Not very dignified for a married, thirty-year-old father of two.

  But a dent to his pride never stopped Geoff. Always quick to jump to her boy's defense, Tess would chastise Rowan. In person. For a good hour. Reminding Rowan where she picked up her extensive knowledge of words.

  "Why put up with his crap?"

  "I suppose the easiest explanation is Geoff's my brother. We grew up together."

  "If you say so," Nick placed his hand over hers. Warm. Strong. "I'll say he needs a lesson on manners and leave the rest of my opinion unsaid."

  "Your restraint is greatly appreciated. Concerning Geoff's lack of manners? I won't disagree."

  "Leaving Jasper," Nick read the bright red sign. "What do you say we leave everything and everyone behind at the city limits?"

  Rowan loved the sound of Nick's suggestion.

  "Do you think we can?"

  "Marsha said we should cut off the world for twenty-four hours." Nick took out his phone. "Power off. Care to join the revolution?"

  Immediately, Rowan followed Nick's lead, knowing if she thought too hard, she might come up with at least a dozen reasons not to.

  "We have officially traveled back in time. What's your guess? Twenty years?"

  "Close. Hand it over." Rowan opened the glove compartment, depositing their phones before snapping shut the door. "Cold turkey. Think we'll have withdrawal symptoms?"

  "Phones turned off. No internet." When Rowan let out an over-the-top gasp, Nick smiled. "No television. We're dumping a lot of technology all at once."

  "I can make the sacrifice if you can." Rowan let her hand drift toward the inside of Nick's thigh, her touch morphing from friendly to enticing. "Of course, finding some way to occupy ourselves will be a challenge."

  "If we put our heads together, we'll think of something."