by Caryl McAdoo
“Are you serious? You’ve got that much money? So much that you don’t even worry that I’ll run off on you and take half of it with me? Really, how rich are you? Do you have as much as Bill Gates?”
He laughed. “I wish; more like his poor relative. But no, I’m not worried in the least about money. Come on now. Don’t be mad anymore. What’s mine will be yours when we marry.”
“But what if I decided to divorce you?”
“Won’t happen.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes.” He reached over and touched her nose. “I do.”
“You certainly do not. Daddy probably never thought Mama would leave either.”
“You aren’t your mother, and I am not your dad.” He sat forward and filled his fork with scrambled eggs. “Anyway, last night you said there were several things you wanted to discuss. Seems to me we didn’t finish that conversation.”
“No.” She took a bite of her sweet roll. “I’m not going to tell you anything else, and I’ll certainly never ask for your help again.” She took a long gulp of milk. “You might remember I called you by all four names. That’s how upset I am, and you’re not getting off so easy.”
“Don’t change the subject.” He waved her off. “You aren’t upset at all anymore. You see the logic and its only money.”
“You are not a Jedi knight and I’m no droid.” She took another bite and chewed, staring at him. He acted like nothing was the matter anymore and just ate his breakfast. Maybe she should let him off the hook. To him, the thirty-something grand he spent on her counted for practically nothing. What had he blown on the clothes and her awesome necklace and earrings? She fingered the emerald. He did earn a quarter million winning last night’s game. And that, only a bonus.
“Hey, how much extra for that home run?”
He pointed his fork at her. “Nothing. And why didn’t you bring that up while I was still negotiating my contract? Oh, yeah. Now I remember, you didn’t give me your number and wouldn’t return my calls.”
“Not my fault, you ran off with all your new friends at the airport.”
“True, I did get lost a bit in the moment, but I wasn’t expecting them all to show up.”
“And I didn’t hire any of those lousy receptionists at the station who didn’t alert me that you called. I wondered if they were told to keep you from me. And that reminds me, did you have anything to do with Yancy sending me to Mexico City?”
“No, not at all.” He heaped a biscuit with strawberry jelly and ate it in one bite. “I was never so surprised in my life that you showed up there.”
Well, that was good to know.
So, in essence, he barely spent the equivalent of a few minutes of work. She wouldn’t think anything about spending an hour’s wage on him. Maybe she shouldn’t have made such a big deal about it. His generosity was so sweet. But she couldn’t believe he was stupid enough not to insist on a pre-nup. That was just dumb.
“Okay, so I have one, well, two more questions.”
He nodded, then took a big sip of coffee. “Shoot.”
“Why’d you include April in your contract?”
“Can we wait on that one?”
“Why? When?”
“Until we get home.”
She glared and made her voice as calm as she possibly could. “What’s wrong with right now? What have you got going with her? Is it why I’m supposedly going to shoot you dead?”
“No and nothing. It all revolves around you, Sweetie. What else do you want to know?”
It’s all about her? If that were so, then why did he keep doing this to her? What kept him from telling her what’s going on until he got home? Home, his wonderful place. She wanted to be back there bad. The thought brought warm fuzzies inside. She loved it. That house—and even the property--wrapped her like her grandmother’s handmade quilts. A peaceful pig in a blanket, that’s what she was there, calm and at ease, safe.
“What else?”
She focused on him, what had he just said, oh yeah, her last question.
“Okay, so tell me this. If we were to tie the knot, are you expecting me to give you fifteen or twenty kids like those Duggars?” She focused on a chunk of cantaloupe; she didn’t want him to see what was really in her heart.
“I love children.”
She looked up. “Really? So you’re saying you would?”
“No, of course not. We don’t have time for that many, but the Word says children are a gift from God, and blessed is the man whose quiver is full.”
Religion again; everything wrapped around church with him, except not church church—God. “But if we were to have—say—three boys, you wouldn’t be opposed to trying again for a girl?”
“Not at all, not if you wanted to. But if we stopped at one of each—I’d rather not have just one—that would be fine, too. I’m open to whatever you prefer and how ever many the Lord blesses us with. Two or twenty.”
She smiled. He wanted kids. “I’m glad about that. Makes me happy.”
“Excellent. So is there anything else you are hankering to know?”
Yes, she actually did have one more question, but definitely did not want to open that jar of peanut butter. Sooner or later, he’d broach the subject, then it would be all over. “Nope, that’s all for now.”
She ate her cantaloupe.
He dropped his napkin on his plate and leaned back. “I’ve got an early meeting with Jeff and Maddox. They want me there at one. What’s your morning look like?”
She studied on him a second, totally hated being mad at him. “You are my morning. I’m all yours until we have to go to work.”
Gij smiled at her then extended his hand. “Come on. There’s a Mardel’s not too far.”
She took it and let him pull her up. “What’s that?”
“You’ll see.”
He loved strolling down the sidewalk with her by his side. Exactly as Siri reported, there it was. He held the door for her.
“Oh, a bookstore. Okay, I love books.”
“Check it out; see if there’s anything you want.”
While she went straight to the home décor area fingering every knick knack on the rack—what was it about that stuff that drew women—he headed straight for the books. A King James purist himself, he considered a different translation for her. Before he settled on one, she joined him. “Find something?”
“Not really. What, did you forget to pack your Bible?”
“No, it’s for you.”
“Me? I’ve got one.”
“Bring it with you?”
“No, it’s at Daddy’s.”
“What version is it, which one do you prefer?”
She huffed a little. “Gij, it’s a Bible. How do I know which version? Aren’t they all alike, say the same thing?”
“Not really. Mine’s a King James, and I don’t like reading any other, but it has the Old English thee’s and thou’s. I was thinking you might like the New King James better, but there are as many kinds as there are denominations.
With her not-so-interested input, he chose her one while she perused the fiction section then carried a few romances to the register. Looked historical and like they might be a series; Vow Unbroken, Heart Stolen, Hope Reborn, and Sins of the Mothers.
At the cash register, she remained aloof and not so talkative, even when the lady behind her tried to draw her into a conversation about the author she’d chosen.
Apparently, he had a talent for upsetting her, but she did promise to read the new Bible, maybe because she thought she owed him that much. Overall, it went better than expected, and she did calm down when he took her shopping for clothes.
Man oh man, she seemed to love trying on the glad rags, but like he was on some kind of budget or something, he could only talk her into two outfits.
Then it was time to go to work, if you could consider playing a great kids’ game work. He made plans with Samantha Danielle for dinner and dropped her at the pressroom
entrance.
Short of the appointed time, he stuck his head into the suite of visiting team’s offices, nothing like back in Texas.
The manager looked up from what appeared to be a schedule. “Hey, kid, good. You’re early. I like that.” He nodded toward one of the chairs in front of his desk.
As though he’d been watching and waiting just for him to sit down, Maddox slipped in and took the other visitor’s chair. “Great game, Johnson. How’s the arm?”
“Thank you, Coach. Arm’s fine.” He wiggled and rolled his shoulder. “Couldn’t be better.”
Banister leaned forward and propped his elbows on the papers. “You serious about preferring to pitch on three days’ rest, son?”
Gij glanced at his pitching coach then back to the manager. “Yes, sir.”
“We had to put Smithton on the two-week D. L. this morning.” Jeff stared hard at him. He seemed to be trying to make up his mind. “Well, here’s what we’re thinking. Move you on up a day.”
Gij nodded. It was all falling into place. “Yes, sir. I’d like that.”
CHAPTER
fiftEEN
Much to the regret of those who bled Dodger Blue, the Rangers swept LA, but only gained one game on Oakland; and that because the Astros managed to score six runs on five hits. Sammi Dan loved it.
The Rangers were in a pennant race, and she adored being right in the big middle of it.
The internet buzzed about her Gij’s two one-hit shutouts and his game winning homerun. And of course, the detractors called for recalibration of the radar guns.
Idiots claimed it humanly impossible to throw a baseball a hundred and four miles per hour; either that or Johnson had come up with a new undetectable performance-enhancing drug.
Only thing that dampened her enthusiasm was the mandate to read that Bible Gij bought her, but she’d promised. As though she didn’t have one in Dimple she could get anytime.
And he wanted her to start at the beginning, not just open it and read wherever as she’d always done as a child.
But then, if the relationship got to the part where he wanted to talk to Daddy and progressed as far as a proposal like he kept talking about, she best have her guns loaded and know how to debate the Holy Book with him.
Every time she sat down with it, she kept a pen and pad at hand to note all of its discrepancies.
By the time the team relocated to San Francisco for their next three-game series, she’d read all the way up to Jacob’s poor favorite son, Joseph. The kid’s bragging on a dream got him sold into slavery by all his hateful brothers.
How could they do something so horrible? He was their brother. Where was God in all that?
To make matters worse, Gij had not invited her up to his room one time since that first night in LA. Maybe that was a good thing though. Just maybe his resolve to abstain weakened every day he spent around her.
Not that she wanted him to compromise his beliefs, but still. Waiting was a complete waste of time. Why not enjoy each other?
Especially when he already planned on marrying her—or so he said. Of course, he didn’t know all her history, and that would surely be the deal breaker. She hated going there, hated there was not a single thing she could do about it.
Truth was truth and Gij was big on it. She wouldn’t lie to him when he asked. Maybe she could stay in sports once it was over with him.
That first game against the Giants, the Rangers blew them out, beat San Fran twelve to two and gained a game on Oakland in the process. Her Rangers were only four games out now, and like she needed a cherry on top of her shake, April sidled up to her just outside of the pressroom beaming like she’d just eaten a whole chocolate pie.
“Joe said Mr. Yancy did it.”
Sammi Dan studied her producer a second then it hit her. “The deal with Fox?”
“Yes, and guess what else?”
“What?”
“I scored us an interview with Daniels before tomorrow’s game! He’s flying out for it, probably to watch G. H. pitch.”
“That’s not tomorrow.”
“Yes, it sure is. Don’t you keep up with the probables? You know, who both teams are planning on pitching the next few days—management’s plan.”
“I know what probables are, thank you very much. But I’m into a new book and I suppose I just haven’t checked. He’s only had three days’ rest.”
“Sorry, I thought you knew. They moved your boy up to take Smithton’s spot.”
“Why? What happened?”
“Duh, he went on the D.L. Girl, where have you been?”
Oh sour grapes, this was no good, nothing about it. She had to pay better attention. Why would he let them do that to him? “Okay, so we’re interviewing the GM at what time?”
“Three sharp, Joe wants it for the five and six.”
That made sense with the time difference; she shut out the bad and focused on the good. “And the during-the-game interviews, how’s that going to work?”
“Well.” She dragged the word out as though she was about to talk to a kindergartener. “We’ll go out there right next to the dugout to the camera well and call whoever we want over, then you’ll start asking questions. We’ll get three a game, and of course, they want us to be smart about it. If we want, we can use all three on...” She looked up and down the hall then leaned in and whispered. “Gij if we want, who by the way, just turned the corner.”
Sammi Dan shot her new best girlfriend a smirky scowl. “Do not use that name, not at all, you hear me? I’ll see you later tonight.”
“Whatever.”
She turned her attention to her new best boyfriend. Coffeecake, less than a month and she had a whole new life. He strolled toward her as though nothing was wrong. With her hands on her hips, she glared at her own personal idiot and resisted the urge to shake him real good.
He stopped short and gave her an I’m-innocent grin then mouthed a sheepish ‘what’?
“You know perfectly well what? Are you a total maniac?”
“Exactly what are we talking about here?”
“What else? You pitching tomorrow?”
“Oh, that. I wondered why you hadn’t said something before.” He extended his hand. “The change was announced before we left LA.”
She hesitated a heartbeat, then as if she could really stay mad at the big lug, settled her insides. “Let me be the voice of reason here, okay?” She slipped her hand into his and let him pull her down the hall. “Really, Johnson, what are you thinking?”
Gij glanced at her then gave her hand a little squeeze. “That you are some kind of passionate, beautiful lady when you’ve got your mad on, but well…” He wanted to tell her the whole story, lay it all out for her, but it wasn’t the right time.
“Don’t but-well me, Mister Potato Head. You know I hate it when you do that.”
“Potato Head? He’s pretty ugly, isn’t he?” He grinned. “No, you’re right. I need to stop not telling you stuff. I promise, once we’re home, I will.”
“What’s being at home have to do with you letting them pitch you too quick. It’s only been three days. Your arm needs more rest.”
“Look, I know what I’m doing. My arm’s fine.” Heavens above, he wanted her so bad, wanted to tell her everything. But would it make a difference? Might freak her out, make her run the other way. He could fly her to Vegas and be married in a few hours. Those drive-through marriage places stayed open twenty-four seven.
“You don’t know that. You’re going to hurt your arm and then what?”
He knew exactly what, and that he needed to stay the course. “I am not going to hurt my arm and would appreciate you to stop saying that I am. What I’m going to do is shut out the Giants tomorrow.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Trust me, Samantha Danielle, I do.”
How could he? He didn’t, no way he could know the future. The jerk was just being arrogant and overly confident. Still, his command shut her mouth. Trust him. S
he had no reason not to.
Did she? No, not a one. Fine, she’d trust him, but he still didn’t know he wouldn’t hurt his arm or that he’d pitch a shutout.
She wanted to bet him, but he’d never put up what she really wanted to wager. And what could she offer him? The man had everything. Well, except her in his bed. And all he had to do was say the word for that, and he knew it.
Did that make him think less of her? Didn’t seem to. Oh, if only. He made her crazy with all his waiting. For sure it made her want him all the more.
“Okay, fine. It’s your arm and your career and another shutout, if you say so.”
“Yes, ma’am. Now that’s the way I like to hear you talk.”
“Um-hum, and what’s the final score going to be?”
“Don’t know that, but we’ll win something to nothing. Hopefully we’ll plate more than one.”
“Well, peaches and cream and pass me a tequila sunrise if you don’t beat all, George Herman Walter. Something to nothing, huh? I can hardly wait.”
He threw her a smile then changed the subject to this great little Mexican joint Martin had found. The Ranger’s centerfielder’s recommendation proved absolutely true. She loved their hot sauce, and to go with their great grub, they mixed a fabulous ’rita, but Gij wouldn’t even taste it. Tamales! How horrible to think he might let his guard down and imbibe a bit of liquid fun.
Instead of having a pleasant conversation about anything, even the weather, he took to grilling her on how far she’d gotten in her scripture reading, as though her theology professor or something.
While doing her best to act cheerful and perky—even interested—in the beginning, by the fourth or fifth question, her tone grew terse and she started tossing little darts.
Then to make it one totally lousy evening—like she was a little girl without any money in a donut shop—he scooted her out without a third margarita then delivered her right to her hotel room door.
He left her there with nothing but a sheepish smile and a brunch date.
She hated this road trip and didn’t know why she ever thought getting him in a strange, romantic town would impede his moral codes just a little. At least at home, she got to cuddle with him some watching the big screen.