"Layla knew her way around a pair of lips." Jordyn smiled. "Alas, a Sapphic lifestyle wasn't for me. On the upside, Layla and I still get together for lunch when she's in town."
"I like Layla," Blue nodded. "However, she isn't the point. Just last week you lamented over a lack of interesting men."
"I believe the exact word I used was dearth," Jordyn corrected.
"Right. Dearth." Thoughtfully, Blue took another drink of wine. "Good word."
"And accurate."
"Which is why you should open your mind to a blind date. And before we go through the routine for the second time, his eyes work just fine."
"I wouldn't object to going out with a blind person," Jordyn said with absolute certainty. "However, a blind date? No, thanks."
"He's a Harvard graduate."
Jordyn's opened one lid so she could send Blue a one-eyed, you've must be kidding, look.
Blue had the good grace to flush. "I have officially become my mother."
"You could do worse."
As far as Jordyn was concerned, Dorothy Kraig was right near the top of the list of all-time number one moms. A close second only to her mother.
"I aspire to many of Mom's stellar qualities." Blue refilled her glass, then did the same for Jordyn. "However, she has always been an inveterate matchmaker."
"The flaw of mothers the world over. Including mine."
"I swore after her last attempt to set me up with the perfect man—i.e., the dud of the century—I would never pull such tactics on a child of mine. I should have added friends to the pledge."
Willing to forgive and forget, Jordyn patted Blue's leg. Until she remembered the one-sided conversation she had with herself at the store about getting back in the game. What could one date hurt?
"You know what?" she said. "I think I will give Mr. Harvard a go."
"Really?" Blue frowned. "Are you sure? Blind dates can be pretty horrific."
Laughing, Jordyn swung to her feet.
"Is this guy a winner or not?"
"I think so. But as close as we are, we have different tastes in men."
"Truer words were never spoken. I wouldn't date my brother in a million years."
"Don't even kid. I just caught up on the latest Game of Thrones." Blue shuddered. "Brother/sister love? Ugh."
"Stop. Please." Jordyn set a plate of cheese, crackers, and assorted fruit on the table. "I want to enjoy my dinner, not upchuck all over the living room table."
Blue bit into a piece of gruyere. "New subject. As I said earlier, the drama hit the fan this afternoon at Cyclones headquarters."
"Who broke what? And please tell me he won't be sidelined for the season." Despite her sometimes-snarky attitude, Jordyn was invested in the success of her hometown team. As much as anybody, she wanted the Cyclones to bring home another World Series trophy. "The team has already been hit hard enough by the injury bug. I don't know if they can survive another major loss to their lineup."
"Which is why the Cyclones have acquired a new catcher to take the place of Andres Marquis while he's on the disabled list." Practically vibrating with excitement, Blue picked up the television remote. "The press conference was last minute, but when the team made the announcement, the internet blew up. The phones are probably still ringing."
"What's the big deal? Did Johnny Bench come out of retirement? And magically roll back the clock about forty years or so?"
"No. But you're on the right track." Blue turned to the local sports channel. "Somebody did come out of retirement."
Jordyn searched her brain for a name. The era of the high-profile catcher had come and gone. These days, finding a good play caller to crouch behind home plate for nine innings was harder and harder. Finding one with some pop in his bat? Well, good luck. For the life of her, Jordyn couldn't think of anybody who could stir up so much excitement.
"Here we go. They're replaying the press conference." Blue sighed. "Doesn't Spencer look handsome?"
Spencer, wearing a suit and tie, sat near the podium. To his right, looking equally spiffy, were Nick Sanders and Travis Forsythe. The Cyclones' superstar infield looked—as Blue said—handsome. And oddly intense. Not a smile between them.
Jordyn recognized the team's longtime manager, Felix Mendoza. And the man who stepped up to the microphone, owner and Cyclones' president, Ross Burton.
"What's all the fuss?" Jordyn wanted to know.
"Listen." Blue leaned toward the television as if she didn't already know what they were about to hear.
Shaking her head, Jordyn sat back and waited as her attention strayed to what needed to be done at the store the next day.
"Ladies and gentlemen." A big man with a bigger presence, Ross Burton's voice could have easily reached from one end of the conference room to the other without the aid of amplification. "First. Thank you all for coming at such short notice. The actual announcement I'm about to make was put together at the last minute. But let me reassure you, the decision behind my words has been well thought out and thoroughly debated. We want what's best for the Cyclones. On and off the field. We never make a move without considering the players and the fans first."
Her interest caught, Jordyn mimicked Blue as she leaned closer to the TV.
"Second." Like a laser beam, Ross' gaze moved left to right, missing nothing and no one. "I believe with all my heart that when a person makes a mistake, pays the price, and truly repents in his heart and with his actions, he deserves a second chance."
Though hidden from the camera, the buzz from the assembled reporters could easily be heard. Had they figured out where Ross' remarks were headed? If so, they were way ahead of Jordyn.
"That said," Ross continued. "We aren't a charitable organization. The Cyclones have one goal and one goal only. To win. We would never bring in a player unless he was a good fit and we were certain he could contribute. Immediately."
"Who?" Jordyn demanded. Totally invested, her patience had worn thin.
"Wait," Blue said.
"Though this man has been out of baseball for over two years, he's in the best shape of his life. And, I don't think there's a person in this room, city, or country, who would dispute that, when he played, he was the best catcher of his generation."
Before Ross Burton could say the name, the noise level rose around him.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Ross remained cool as a cucumber, ignoring the growing furrow around him. "I am proud to introduce the newest member of the Cyclone family. Murphy Baldwin."
Shouted questions were shot at the podium like buckshot from a gun. They landed everywhere with little accuracy and for the most part were easy to ignore.
Murphy wasn't a common name, Jordyn thought as a sense of foreboding settled over her, her eyes glued to the edge of the platform. Nor, she was certain, was it unique. She didn't try to figure the odds that the man about to step in front of the camera was her Murphy. Why bother when she would have her answer any second.
Tall. Muscular. So familiar, yet different at the same time. One look at his face and Jordyn knew. Surprised. No, shocked. Shocked was a better description for the emotion running through her. Yet, she could only think of one thing to say.
"He cut his hair."
"What?" Blue, pulled her gaze from the screen long enough to send a frown Jordyn's way.
"His hair is shorter." As in a daze, she rubbed her chin. "So is his beard."
"Jordyn." Blue sounded confused. And a bit worried. "You aren't making sense. And, you look like you've seen a ghost."
"No. I've seen a Murphy."
"He is a good-looking man," Blue said. "Very good looking."
Jordyn took a deep breath. Then another.
"Murphy isn't any man. He's the man. The one I told you about."
"Murphy!?" Blue exclaimed. "Everything moved so fast today, I didn't make the connection."
"Why should you?" Jordyn asked.
"Okay. Right." Blue paused. "Are
you sure he's your Murphy?" Rolling her eyes, Blue slapped herself on the forehead before Jordyn beat her to it. "Stupid question. You spent two days with him doing very intimate things. But you never told me his name, so I didn't make the connection."
Jordyn hit pause on the DVR. She wanted to hear what Murphy had to say. Every word. But later. After she had regained her equilibrium. Had some time to process the turn of events.
Taking her phone, she pulled up the pictures, tapping the one she'd taken as Murphy painted her. Fair was fair, Jordyn had reasoned when he protested. She wasn't talented enough to draw him, so she should be able to capture his image the only way she could.
Jordyn hadn't allowed herself to look at the picture after she left Murphy's mountain home. Later, she'd reasoned. When the memory of his face faded.
"Here." she said as she gave Blue the phone.
"Oh, my." Blue let out a low whistle. "He's…"
"Hairy?" Jordyn patted herself on the back. If she could make a joke, the shock must have worn off a bit.
"Spectacular." Blue moved her gaze from the image in her hand to the one frozen on the television. "I see what you mean about different. The Murphy I met today was polished. Charming in an urbane kind of way. Very GQ cover ready. This Murphy? Ruggedly gorgeous. A little rough around the edges. And very sexy. In a twenty-first century, mountain man chic kind of way."
Jordyn almost smiled. Murphy, despite the fact he eschewed most of today's technical conveniences, had struck her as a modern man. A man whose sensibilities were firmly planted in the twenty-first century. As for mountain man chic? Blue had hammered the nail on the head.
"Which is the real Murphy?" Jordyn asked.
"A combination of the two, I suppose." Blue took another look at the photo before she set aside the phone. "We all have different sides, Jordyn."
"Different is one thing." Again, Jordyn rubbed her chin, thinking about mountain Murphy's lovely, bushy beard. "If we'd passed on the street, I don't think I would have recognized him."
"On the surface. But underneath, I'm sure he's the same man." Blue placed a comforting arm around Jordyn's shoulder. "You could meet with him. Talk. Find out for yourself."
"I don't know," Jordyn hesitated.
"Are you worried about his past? Spencer says that Murphy has left behind his wild ways. And he was never violent or abusive."
Jordyn shook her head. She vaguely remembered the scandal. Enough to know that Murphy had only been a danger to himself.
"Ross Burton was right. We all deserve a second chance."
"Then what's the problem?"
"I don't care about Murphy's past. I care that he's…" Jordyn's breath caught in her throat. Inexplicably, she felt on the verge of tears.
"What?" Blue urged, a frown marring her brow.
"He's…" Jordyn swallowed, then gave in and wailed, "Murphy isn't a mountain man. He's a fucking baseball player."
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ALONE, JORDYN SETTLED herself in bed. Face washed, teeth brushed, she'd clipped her hair into a messy bun, switched out the blue jeans for a pair of pajama bottoms, but kept the t-shirt. On the mattress sat her open laptop where Murphy's press conference played for the third time.
"I can stay if you want to talk," Blue had told her almost an hour earlier as she slipped on her jacket.
One of the best things about best friends? Jordyn knew she could shove her friend out the door without the slightest worry of hurt feelings. Blue understood what Jordyn needed most of all was some alone time.
"I'm only a phone call away."
Blue gave Jordyn one of her patented full-on hugs, designed to make the huggee feel better instantly. As always, the feel of Blue's comforting arms around her helped. A bit.
"You shouldn't drive." Though Blue looked steady on her feet, they'd emptied an entire bottle of wine—and started on another. "Let me call you a cab."
"I spoke to Spencer while you were in the bathroom to let him know I was on my way. Then I called the car service the Cyclones have an account with. The driver just texted me that he'd arrived."
Jordyn frowned. Spencer didn't drink during the season. Maybe a beer on an off day. But nothing this late in the day. She knew her brother. If Blue needed him for any reason. A ride, an errand. A kidney. He would drop anything to be there.
"Why didn't Spencer come for you himself?" Before Blue could answer, Jordyn sighed. "Because he's with Murphy."
"Spencer, Nick, and Travis." Blue nodded. "They wanted to be there for Murphy after the press conference. Metaphorically hold his hand. The response to the Cyclones signing him hasn't been all positive."
"When are the responses completely positive?" Jordyn asked. "No matter what the team does?"
"No," Blue admitted. "But Murphy Baldwin is a lightning rod for every internet troll and shock jock journalist from coast to coast. Even the reputable commentators and sports outlets have ripped the Cyclones for taking a chance on him."
Wait and see no longer existed in the world of twenty-four-hour news. Everybody had an opinion. And, unfortunately, a platform to express them. The more vitriolic, the better for ratings.
Eyes on the computer screen, Jordyn did exactly what Blue advised against. And knew she couldn't resist. She read the stories, watched the videos, and listened to so many opinions, her head felt ready to explode.
As a result, Jordyn knew the facts. After he'd tested positive twice for banned substances—a potent cocktail, by his own admission, of Vicodin, cocaine, and alcohol—Murphy had received a mandatory ninety-day suspension. However, an injury to his hip, and a reputation for bad behavior nobody wanted to touch, ended his career.
Once the preeminent catcher in the game, Murphy all but disappeared from public view. He could have reapplied for reinstatement, but he never tried. Two years later, the baseball world had moved on. But as today proved, they hadn't forgotten.
Crossing her legs under her, Jordyn took the computer, placing it on her lap. Murphy stared back at her. She was almost used to his new look. Resigned. Oh, who was she trying to kid? Long hair and beard, or short. Plaid flannel shirt and jeans, or tailored suit. He was a damn fine-looking man. Handsome. And infinitely sexy.
Getting a hold on her hormones, Jordyn hit the play button.
"The Cyclones have put their faith in me, and I plan to make certain they don't regret their decision," Murphy said.
He didn't carry any cards with a prepared speech, Jordyn noted. As he looked at the crowd of reporters, his eyes were clear, his expression intense yet sincere.
"Baseball was my first love. I was given a gift that I squandered through careless arrogance and a feeling of entitlement. Believe me, I know how lucky I am that the league, and the Cyclones have given me a second chance. This time, I won't make the same mistakes. The game, my teammates, and the fans are what matter. Above me. Above my ego. I'm honored. Humbled." Murphy paused. "Thank you."
Surrounded by Spencer and the other Cyclones, Murphy left the room without answering the barrage of shouted questions that followed in his wake.
Three times she'd watched, and try as she might, Jordyn couldn't maintain an unbiased viewpoint. She hadn't known Murphy when he was wild and out of control. So, she had no reason to doubt his sincerity. From what she'd seen on the various sports websites, others weren't as open minded.
"The Cyclones are about to throw a ticking bomb into their locker room," one popular talk show host declared.
"The team needs a catcher," argued the man's sidekick. "The market is threadbare at the position. And from what my sources tell me, Murphy Baldwin is still in playing shape. Why not give him a shot? His contract is for the league minimum. If he turns out to be a bust, what will the Cyclones lose?"
The first man, his face red with indignation, practically screamed his response. "What will they lose? Only the trust and respect of the other players in their organization. Not to mention the disillusionment and disappointment of ever
y baseball fan from here to Japan and back again."
"Self-important, pompous jackass," Jordyn growled at the screen. Disgusted, she shut the laptop with a decisive click.
Falling back onto her pillow, Jordyn's mind reeled from an overload of information. She'd had enough of the press conference and the idiot commentators who preferred the sound of their own voices to actually trying to make an effort to report anything close to the facts.
She should have stopped an hour ago before she found the YouTube video highlighting a shouting match and public break-up between Murphy and his at-the-time model fiancée. Yikes. The whole thing had been bad enough, he really shouldn't have ended by dropping his pants and flashing his backside toward the already fascinated spectators.
Though as asses went, Murphy's was top notch. A visual cherry on top of an already cringe-worthy incident. No wonder the video had so many hits.
Facts were facts. From what she could tell, Murphy hadn't made excuses nor tried to shuffle the blame. He took his punishment with a measure of good grace he'd never shown as a player.
What she couldn't find online no matter how hard she searched, was Murphy's side of the story. A statement. An interview. Something to give her insight on how he'd let himself get so out of control.
Would he tell her if she asked, Jordyn wondered as she crawled under the covers, shutting off her bedside lamp. Did she really want to know all the dirty details?
With a yawn, she turned on her side. She'd been resigned, certain she would never see Murphy again. Now, they were in the same city. He had signed with the same team that employed her brother. They couldn't avoid each other if they wanted to.
The question wasn't if they would meet. Simply where and when.
CHAPTER TEN
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For the First Time (One Strike Away #$) Page 9