by Caryl McAdoo
He didn’t look away, held her as sure as if he were not sitting a couch’s length away, as if his arms wrapped her tightly to himself, and he’d never let her go. Goose flesh covered her limbs.
“Back when I told you my grandfather named me, you seemed shocked.”
Somehow, she found her voice, but never lost his eyes. “Yes, I’ve never heard such a thing, but we’d only just met. I didn’t want to pry.”
He nodded then finally looked away, as though he needed to summon courage. When he looked back, tears filled his eyes. She wanted to go to him, hug him and kiss the wetness away, but didn’t move even a muscle because more, she wanted to hear what he had to say, every word of it.
“Mammaw died when my mother was only fifteen. Pappaw said it changed mom. She went wild on him. Drinking, drugs, sneaking out all hours of the night. Soon enough, she turned up pregnant.”
“Oh, Gij.”
“They fought. She wanted to abort, but Pappaw talked her out of it. He promised her he’d take me. And he did. She left us both at the hospital.”
Oh, cheese, poor man. She set her glass down. No wonder he didn’t drink. Yet, he’d still gone and bought her a bottle of excellent wine. “Is she around? Your mom? Do you see her?”
“No, hardly ever...not in a while. Been over ten years. I don’t know where she is, or even if she’s still alive. Thought she might turn up for Pappaw’s funeral, but she may not even know he’s gone.”
Sammi Dan slid home under the tag. Her secrets were safe—for the time at least. “Well, tell me this.” She stood and held her arms out. “Is a hug allowed?”
CHAPTER
fiVE
Gij stared at her for a second; he definitely wanted more than a hug.
Oh, Lord, You made her so desirable.
He stood, and she threw herself into his arms then snuggled into his chest. She felt wonderful, so warm and soft and helpless. Her cheek rested on his shoulder. Her hair smelled like flowers. He stroked it and held her tight. It seemed so right, yet so wrong on so many levels.
She leaned her head back. “Suppose I could have a little kiss, too?”
He told his mouth no, but his lips had an intent of their own. They wouldn’t, couldn’t stay away from hers. She tilted her face up, eyes closed. He studied her full lips, so soft, so inviting, then covered them with his own and drank in her essence.
For too long, he kissed her. Way too long. But somehow managed to leave her nectar and push away.
“Courting rule number one: no more hugs or kisses until…”
What? No more? But she wanted more, lots more. How could he stop now? Samantha Danielle wanted to kiss the man until the sun swallowed the moon, until every last star refused to shine. Never had anyone held her like that, except his arms looked enough like all the rest. Her head spun.
Mangos! She wanted all of him, and she wanted him now.
The desire to give herself to him and never leave his side again overwhelmed her.
She wanted to slap him. “Until what? We’re grown-ups, Gij. Consenting adults. What’s to stop us? Have you got a wife stashed somewhere you haven’t told me about? Or a boyfriend?”
His chuckling snort broke the dense tension that filled the air like a thick cream fog.
She smiled. “Well?”
“No, neither, but I learned something about myself the hard way. I have an addictive personality, Miss Davenport. I don’t want you to be my new addiction.”
“What would be wrong with that? I like you, and if that way-too-brief-a-kiss is any indication, you like me.” She held her hands out and grasped his. Was she going to have to spell it out for him? She wanted him like she’d never wanted another man, and if he’d only give her half a –
“Samantha Danielle, yes, of course. I like you a lot. You’re the most desirable woman I’ve ever known, but –”
“But what? We don’t have to refrain. What’s that until of yours supposed to mean?” She brought his fingers to her lips and kissed them. “What do you think we need to wait for?” She looked up from his beautiful hands and found his eyes again. “I don’t see anything standing in our way.”
Was she going to have to beg?
“Marriage. That’s the until. The Word says when you find a wife, you find a good thing.”
“You can’t be serious. Nobody waits until they get married anymore.”
“Well, that’s not true. I’m a somebody, and I plan on waiting.”
Wait, what? He planned on waiting to sleep with her until marriage? She got it that he was a goody two-shoes, but wasn’t that a bit extreme?
Marriage. Her daddy would love that. Marriage. So he thought she was marrying material. “That is so sweet, Gij, but really, marriage? You hardly even know me.”
He grinned. “That’s exactly what I’m trying to do. Remember me telling you? I want to get to know you, and you need to get to know me, too. And I’d like to meet your parents. At least, I suppose they’d want to meet me, maybe not.”
“No, of course they would—are you kidding me? Daddy’s going to love you! Now Mama’s pretty much been gone since I was eight, but I can call her. I’m sure she and Fred will want to meet you, too.”
“Alright, rule number one then, no hugging and kissing.”
She stared at him for a minute. “Cuddling’s allowed though, right? So we can snuggle up and watch the game? You recorded it, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I did, and that sounds alright.”
She let go of his hands and lifted her wine glass. “Be honest with me. Does me having a glass of wine bother you?”
He shook his head and chuckled again. “Samantha Danielle, I’ll never be dishonest with you, I promise. You having a glass of wine doesn’t bother me in the least if it doesn’t bother you.”
“Great.” She drained the glass. “Can I have a refill then? This is good stuff, and this conversation’s plenty deep.”
He’d recorded it all from her pre-game interview with him to the celebration interview after, and even Jeff’s post-game conference. But her favorite part remained seeing his interviews with her. She looked good beside him. She settled back onto the couch next to the man with her fourth glass of wine over the course of the game.
If it’d just been her, she’d have polished off the whole bottle, but with Mr. Goody.… She glanced at her guy and smiled. He’d made her a better woman already. “Hey, I’ve got a question. Well, actually two.”
He winked, and her heart skipped a beat. There should be a rule about that. He gave her a why-aren’t-you-asking look. “Yes?”
“How is it that you throw faster in the eighth and ninth than in the first seven innings? And how come you don’t ice your arm after the game?”
“I’ve got a question of my own.” He pointed his finger at her in a nonchalant kind of way. “Is this to satisfy your own curiosity, or is your intent to plaster my answer on the six o’clock news?”
Secrets! She loved secrets. “That’s entirely up to you.” She looked him in the eye. “Anytime you tell me that something isn’t for public consumption, my lips are sealed. I won’t tell anyone. You have my word.”
“Good, so this is for your ears only. I can throw that fast anytime I want to, and I’ve never liked cold packs.”
“Understandable on the ice, but if you can, why don’t you throw that hard earlier in the game?”
“It’s all perception. I throw my straight change in the high eighties. For some guys, that’s their fast ball. Oh wait!” He held up his left hand and clicked the mute button on the remote with his right, bringing the television back to life then rewound it a bit. The split screen ended, and ESPN gave way to MLB Tonight over the entire sixty-inch screen.
In front of a wide, still shot of Sammi Dan interviewing Gij, Mitch Williams reported in the way only he could. “I’m not making this up, folks. George Herman Walter Johnson made his Major League debut tonight, the oldest Ranger Rookie ever.
“Some of you may recognize him from l
ast year’s World Series of Poker. The Main Event’s final table. He came in third. In poker circles, Johnson’s known as The Deacon. Anyway, he quit poker and went down to Mexico and started pitching.
“In ’03 he started at third base for the Texas Longhorns before he flunked out. Now a year after his return to baseball, the Rangers got themselves a one-hit shutout on Johnson’s first Major League game.
“And according to my sources, him signing the deal almost didn’t happen. His incentive-heavy contract hung on his insistence that Miss Samantha Davenport be the only reporter he’d give an on-air interview to, as pictured.” He threw a thumb over his shoulder. “So far he’s only talked to Miss Davenport, previously known as Sammi Dan, the weather girl at KBTL.”
Succotash! What would all her viewers think?
Behind Mitch, the frozen interview still split into Gij and an old black and white of Walter Johnson throwing side by side. “Check this out, folks. The Deacon is Walter Johnson’s great-great-great-nephew.” As he spoke, the images merged together, and the motions were identical. How did he do it?
“Tonight, Johnson lived in the high nineties until the eighth, then he kicked it up to one-o-four. Combine that with his pinpoint command and devastating straight change, it’s almost not fair.” The ex-pitcher-turned-commentator shrugged. “Professional poker’s loss is the Rangers’ gain as they now trail Oakland by four and a half.”
Gij hit the mute button then stared at Sammi. “The camera lights just do wonders to those green eyes of yours.”
She burst out laughing. “You are such a hoot. Give it up, Gij.” Then she laid her head back on his shoulder. “But tell me, what was that about the deal almost not happening? Mitch made it sound like that was all over me.”
“Well, they were hinky about April, too. I had to agree to not go within a thousand feet of a Hold ’Em table.” He stood and walked over to a CD tower. “What do you want to watch?”
Nothing. She wanted more secrets. Would he give her a peek at his contract? She’d love that, but maybe she shouldn’t quiz him anymore just now. “I don’t care, you pick. Anything but a baseball movie.”
The next thing she knew, she opened her eyes on the couch alone with a pillow under her head and a striped Mexican cover spread over her. She lifted the light blanket and checked. Fully clothed except for her shoes she’d kicked off before the movie started; that didn’t surprise her.
The splendid aroma of coffee called her name.
On his back patio, Gij enjoyed the sunrise and a hot cup of black Joe as he did most mornings. Should he ask her? His resolve from last night had melted under the bright light of this fine July day.
A bushy-tailed squirrel ran across the stone path and jumped up onto the rock wall chattering at him. In no time, a second smaller one followed, and the race was on. Up the tree, leaping from branch to branch, the pair raced.
He smiled. Since only a boy, he’d watched the little family of squirrels for at least six generations. Old grandpa lounged over a limb of the Cedar Elm with all four paws hanging down, taking a nap. The old boy had once been the youngest, chasing his brother through the back yard.
Lord, direct my steps. Help me make the right decisions with Samantha.
Maybe the whole thing was his own dumb idea. He grinned. Maybe he should forget about it. But it seemed so logical. It would definitely speed up things. The back door opened. He smiled at her. “Good morning, Sunshine. I see you found the coffee.”
“Yes, it’s morning.” She shuffled over in her bootie socks and sat across from him. “Can’t believe I fell asleep. Sorry I couldn’t hang.”
“It was a long day. Want some breakfast?”
“No, thanks. I need to get home. I need a shower and to get out of these clothes. I need my toothbrush. There’s a lot of stuff I need, and I have to go to the office for at least a little while.”
“No problem, but you have time to drink your coffee, don’t you? It’s still early.”
“Oh, sure, but no food.”
“Where’s your car?”
“My apartment. I rode with April last night.”
“I’ve got a three-car garage.”
She nodded and took a sip. “Your yard is amazing. It’s beautiful.”
“I’ve also got four extra bedrooms.”
She took another sip and stared at him with those beautiful, but bleary, green eyes of hers. “I don’t remember getting the grand tour.”
“You’re right, you didn’t, but I do.” He inhaled, held it a long second then exhaled slowly. “How about you pack a bag when you get home and park your car in my garage for a while?”
CHAPTER
six
Sammi Dan could not believe her ears. Had he just invited her to move in? No, way! She must have misunderstood. Replaying his exact words, she sipped her coffee and scanned the well-manicured landscape in the glow of morning light. The grass glistened with the morning dew. Must be the river bottoms. The Trinity couldn’t be far.
What was she doing? Looking around, enjoying the view like the new Ranger phenom hadn’t just suggested she move in. That’s what he’d done alright, her mental replay proved it. Convinced she hadn’t misunderstood at all, she started talking herself into it
For sure, it would be a beautiful place to live…and she could certainly get to know him better, faster. But what about all his rules? They definitely rubbed her a bit raw. She looked over. “Gij.” She shook her head and sighed. “I can’t see as how such an arrangement could possibly work.”
He made a disappointed face that morphed into a smile. “Why not?”
“Really. You need to ask? No kissing or hugging, but you want me to live with you. What about rule number one?”
“Look, we go on the road in four days. Let’s try it until then.”
She shook her head. “We’ve got five more games here, right? Or did I lose a day somewhere?”
“No, the team does, but they’re sending me ahead to LA. Want me to get plenty of rest. I figured you and April would go with me.”
“Right, we will. So your next start is against the Dodgers?” She hadn’t planned that far ahead.
“Yes, but I don’t want to think about it. Almost too much. Plus I’ll have to bat. If you remember, I’m 0 forever with the Rojos.” He gave her a puppy dog look. “So, what do you think? Want to stay here for a while? You can pick any room you want, except mine. And think of the gas you’ll save.”
She went back to admiring the flower beds full of color and waited. On the outside, she wanted to appear as calm and even as humanly possible, but on the inside, nothing seemed to be in anyway still or collected. She couldn’t keep her foot from bouncing, but moved it to where she thought he couldn’t see it.
Her heart’s pace had quickened at ‘in my garage’ and been racing ever since. She figured he’d be able to see it pounding against her chest by now.
A cute little squirrel ran across the grass then stopped and sat up straight on the wall. It reached in a pot of geraniums and pulled out what appeared to be a pecan. She cleared her throat, and the furry little guy looked straight at her, but didn’t scurry off. Maybe it was a sign she shouldn’t either.
Nothing to be afraid of, right? She was a big girl.
“Okay, I’ll pack a bag.” She stood. “Come on. I want to see the rooms.” She chose the one two doors down from him on the same side of the hall. It had a great view and the biggest bathroom.
All the way to her apartment, with Elvis singing gospel songs softly—she’d turned him down—streaming on his bluetooth, she pondered a question plaguing her from the start. Gij stopped his truck, jumped out and trotted around, then opened her door. She slid out and faced him.
There was no way; she couldn’t not ask. “Hey, before we do this, I need to know something.”
“Sure, there’s no rent. And I’ll do all the cooking. Anything else?”
“Ha. Ha. And yes.” She shook her head at his lame joke. “Who’s doing dishes?”
“You of course, unless you’re allergic. I could hire someone.”
“No, sir, that won’t be necessary. I’ll have you know I can load a dishwasher with the best of them. My question…what I must know…is…why me, Gij?”
He closed his eyes and threw her a little nod then smiled. “How about we wait on that until after the road trip? You may’ve shot me dead by then.”
More secrets. Hush puppies! She wanted to throw him to the sidewalk and tickle him until he told her everything. Wait. Was he even ticklish? She knew so little, one more thing she’d have to find out. But at least, he obviously knew. Why in the world? What could his reason possibly be?
It didn’t make sense, risking the opportunity to pitch in the Major League over a weather girl he didn’t even know. Oh well, she’d have her answer within a week or so. Until then… “Fine, I see how you are, but you should know that I have never, ever, even wounded someone, much less shot him dead. I don’t even own a gun.”
“Good. So I’m safe.”
She backed away a step. “For now, but I’m holding you to that promise, cheesecake. Once we’re back from California, I expect –”
“I’m off to the ballpark.” He winked. “Planning on getting some running in. How about you and April meet me there? Say four or so. We can have a salad or something and discuss doing that home invasion interview Joe wants.”
“Great.” Sammi Dan threw him a kiss—surely that wouldn’t break any of his stupid rules—then backed away another step. “How about I drop my car off at your place on the way and ride with April?”
“Sure, good idea. Call me when you get there, and I’ll open the gate. Leave the middle space for me. It’s extra long.”