One and Done (Red River Romance Book 3)

by Caryl McAdoo

“So when did you come up with that dropping ball? I’d never seen it, and cotton candy, Gij. It was amazing.”

  He chuckled, loved the way she punctuated with food. “It’s a hard slider; no one calls it a drop anymore.”

  “Okay, so when did that happen? Where’d you get it?”

  “Back in the day, that was my pitch.”

  Sammi Dan studied his poker face, but saw right through him. “So what’s the deal? You’re being evasive. Does throwing it hurt your arm?”

  “Back then, I threw all kinds of junk, but the slider was my out pitch.” He laughed. “Half the time, I’d strike ’em out, and my catcher would miss the ball. We played just like the majors—a batter could run on missed third strikes. They’d end up on first a lot.”

  “Shame you didn’t have Carlos back then.” She broke out of the tunnel onto the players’ private lot.

  He followed her out. “Yes, he’s exceptional alright. And I suppose…” He glanced over at Six Flags, and his words faded.

  “Don’t do that.” First making certain it was his off arm, she punched him. “Tell me, turkey. What do you suppose?”

  “Oh, just that you’re right. If I’d had a better catcher, then maybe I wouldn’t have thrown so much that I blew out my arm. But who knows? Might have meant I wouldn’t have met you. The Bible says all things work together for good to those who love the Lord.” He glanced at her.

  She tried to follow his logic, but it only made partial sense. If they were meant to be, then wild horses couldn’t keep them apart. She would have found him one way or another. Maybe even lots sooner, before she’d made so many bad choices.

  But she harbored no doubt that the man had been made special order for her. Now, if God really had anything to do with that, it had to be Him answering her Mimi’s prayers.

  Her grandmother always told her the Lord had created someone especially for her, from the time she was a little girl. Always said she was praying for him. But Mimi died, and Sammi Dan chalked her stories up to her telling fairy tales.

  She’d decided no one ever found a real Prince Charming.

  Never had she ever been involved with a guy for that long without some other hunk turning her head. No. He was the real deal. She knew it, and she never wanted to let him go. “Okay, whatever. Seems to me God’s like an umpire.”

  Gij grinned and swallowed her bait. “How so?”

  “Like He’s called you to play ball. That has to be His purpose for you. Anyway, where do you want to eat? I’m driving.”

  “How about you pick and I drive?”

  She shook her head, but the deer caught in the lights expression he gave changed her mind, and she handed him the keys. “Okay, but only because I love you so much, and I get to keep the top down.”

  He laughed. “Not worried about my hair blowing.”

  She made him take the slower, round about way to that cool place in Irving where the grandmas made the tortillas by hand. He’d introduced her to Danal’s, that was the name. She loved their hot sauce, too. And their margaritas.

  Too much Tex-Mex, too many ’ritas, and six autographs later—just to be nice she introduced Gij, and he signed, too—she rode in the passenger seat of her new emerald green parade Cadillac.

  She smiled remembering the last lady who asked for her to sign a napkin, then going so goofy getting Gij’s signature for her son. Yeah, right, like before him, Sammi Dan might get one or two requests a month when only the weather girl.

  Now, she was the better part of Gij and Sammi Dan, as though neither needed a last name.

  On the drive home, an instant replay to how things were back before Gij. Hard to believe it’d only been a few weeks. She never wanted to go back. He parked the Caddy in his garage, then ran around and opened her door.

  Oh, how she loved her new life, except the predicament she faced right at that minute. Going to bed alone sucked. One more night with nothing but her pillow to cuddle, used not to matter, but now it tortured her.

  Too soon the words blurred; she sighed and closed her Bible and eyes. Okay, God. If this is how you want things, then it seems to me that You have a mean streak. Why…?

  Her heart stopped. Gij lay still in a shimmering pool of dark red blood. Sammi Dan sat up in bed. He wasn’t on the floor; only a nightmare. She swung her feet over the bed’s side wanting to wake up more.

  What a horrible dream. Gij wasn’t dead. She stood and slipped on her robe then eased down the hall. His door stood slightly ajar. She peeked inside. His bed empty, with the covers pulled back, seemed right, except…how could she know?

  Her heartbeat quickened, and apprehension chased her downstairs suddenly in a hurry. A half full coffee pot greeted her in the kitchen. Things were fine; normal, he wasn’t hurt. But she’d wait on the brew until she’d laid eyes on him.

  She swallowed and settled her insides, made herself walk. Surely, he sat out on the patio swilling his morning Joe, maybe reading his Bible. She stepped out, eased down the path, then turned the corner. His body lay prone on the cold stones. “Oh no! Gij! Sweetheart!”

  He raised his head. “Baby? What’s wrong?”

  She stepped toward him, tears welled. “I dreamed you were dead. I couldn’t find you. Then...” Her eyes overflowed.

  He pushed himself up, jumped to his feet, then his arms engulfed her. “I’m fine. It was just a bad dream. I’m okay.”

  Leaning back, she glared through the tears. “Then why were you lying out here on the ground? Trying to scare me to death?”

  “Shhhh.” He drew her in again. “Of course not, Sweetheart. I was only praying.”

  “On the ground?” She pressed hard into his chest and wept. When the sobs subsided, she leaned back and looked into his eyes. “Promise me...”

  “Okay, I promise. What am I promising?”

  “That I get to die first. I couldn’t stand losing you.”

  He wiped the tears off her cheeks. “How about we go together?”

  She nodded, then pressed back into his chest. Every fiber of her being longed to be one with him. She wanted it more than anything, ever… Then as though it had been yesterday, she clung to her mother’s neck the night the two-timer ran off.

  With her whole little eight-year-old heart, she’d wanted nothing but for her to stay. But even that didn’t compare with her desire for the man who held her. It almost made her sick.

  She leaned back and glared at him again. “So why in the world were you lying out here like you were dead? Why not sit in a chair? It’s a wonder you didn’t give me a heart attack.”

  “I’m sorry you had the nightmare, but it’s the way I pray every morning.”

  “Really? Every morning? Like seven days a week?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Why lying down on your face?”

  “Loving on God. It’s just how I do it.”

  He held her for not long enough, then eased her back. “You want coffee?”

  “Yes, I do. But I want you more.”

  His eyes told it all, he wanted her, too. He stepped back as though he had to get away from her before something happened.

  “How do you do it, Gij? I know you want me as much as I do you. It’s written so loud on your heart that it’s oozing out your eyes.”

  “That bad?”

  “Yes. Now please, can we fix it?”

  “No.”

  “But why?” She hated the sing-songy whine in her voice, but rotten pecans, he was driving her totally nuts.

  “I want you to be my first and me your last.”

  Oh, that was so sweet. Then she repeated what he’d just said. He wanted to be her last. So he knew. But how much did he know? “Did you just say my last as in…”

  “You’re doing it now.”

  “So what do you know?”

  “Enough.”

  “I can...”

  He touched her lips with his fingers. “I need coffee. Why don’t you sit and enjoy the view. I’ll be right back.”

  She kis
sed his calloused fingertips. Why didn’t he want to know all about her past? Maybe he already knew more than he wanted to. So then, how could he still love her?

  That morning melted into afternoon. Twice she dangled a bit of her history, but he refused to take the bait. Maybe he considered them her dark deep secrets and had no intentions of letting her unload them on him.

  Was that it? The pronouncement of her being with another man so repugnant, he just couldn’t stand to hear?

  He told her about his little Miss Roxanna. Of course, the incident paled in comparison to any of her exploits. She smiled to herself. Still, good thing nothing had happened or Sammi Dan would have to hunt the teen hussy down and slap her ugly.

  His off days sped by. She enjoyed reporting on the Rangers, even the games he didn’t pitch were twice or three times better than talking about the boring weather.

  But nothing matched the fun as those games when her Gij took the mound.

  And the team played great ball.

  The A’s were hanging tough, too, though. Smoking mirrors indeed. Last night against Detroit, they scored three runs on six hits and made it stand up.

  She couldn’t wait for Friday. Oakland had to come to Texas. Uh huh, uh huh. Then they’d get their britches whipped. She shivered with glee at the thought. If her guys could sweep them, then they’d be a whole game ahead, with only twelve left to play.

  That Thursday—everyone’s day off—finally rolled around. Of course, he’d located another bridal shop and wanted her to try on more dresses. He acted like there was one special gown out there that would turn her pure again.

  Maybe it was how he coped.

  For sure, his level-headedness showed up in every area other than her past. Not wanting to talk about it bothered her almost as bad as when she thought he didn’t know.

  Where was the idiot who said love was easy? Or wait. Maybe she had it wrong. Was the old saying ‘love’s never easy’? Whoever wasn’t such an idiot after all.

  That morning on the patio, while he enjoyed his coffee and she savored the idea of presenting what she’d bought him online last night, a pleasant thought sprouted. “Hey, today’s Thursday.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Are they having that group thing tonight?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “We going?”

  “Thought we would.”

  “Good, what are we taking?”

  “I don’t know. Have you checked the fridge?”

  “No, and I’ve been meaning to ask. Who’s the mystery person that comes every evening while we’re working and cleans up and stocks the panty?”

  “That’d be Mister and Mis’ess Raylor.” He took a sip of his coffee, then threw her a sheepish grin. “Roxanna’s parents. She cleans while he does the yards and sees to the utilities.”

  Humph. Maybe she ought to call in sick one evening and meet the lady. And do what? Ask her if Roxi’s version of what happened nineteen years ago was the same as his? How ludicrous.

  “So how’s your childhood, best friend-girl these days?”

  “Don’t know. Haven’t seen her in forever.”

  “You haven’t asked her mother about her?”

  “No, they had a falling out like ten years ago. We don’t talk about her.”

  “What did they fight about?” Sammi Dan wanted to hear all the dirt on his one bad girl; her obsession with her totally illogical, of course.

  “Don’t know, and I don’t see that much of her parents to ask, either. She got married right out of high school. Probably has a passel of kids.” He looked like he contemplated the old flame. “She’d make a good soccer mom.”

  “That’s so weird that she wouldn’t stay in touch.”

  “Oh, we’re Facebook friends.”

  “With Roxi? Duh, I’d definitely say that qualified for keeping in touch.”

  He made a silly face. “No, her mother. That’s how I keep them updated on our schedule. My, uh, excuse me, our bank sends their money electronically.”

  She liked that, his bank was hers, too. “You mentioned he took care of the utilities. What does he have to do with them? I mean, what’s to keeping up? Seems like paying the bills would be the only thing and you do, that right?”

  “No, not here. We’re self sufficient.”

  “What? That is so cool. I love that. How do you do it?”

  “Water well, solar panels, wind turbines, a bank of batteries and a backup generator if the sun doesn’t shine, or the wind doesn’t blow.”

  “Wow, where is all that stuff? I haven’t seen any of it.”

  “Down by the barn.”

  “Okay. And the barn is…?” She gave him her I’m-waiting-here grin, with a bit of silly thrown in.

  He stood and extended his hand. She let him pull her to her feet, then he turned sideways and bent down to where his cheek almost touched hers.

  He pointed toward the southeast. “Over those trees. You can barely see the top of the windmill. The barn is right there under it.”

  She followed his finger. Sure enough, a bit of fat metal peeked over the tree line. She leaned into him, pressing her cheek against his. He had the coolest house ever.

  Imagine, a man who would think of being self… She pulled away and faced him. “Are you one of those crazy doomsday prepper boys with a basement full of guns and MRIs?”

  CHAPTER

  twenty-three

  He chuckled. She hated him laughing at her.

  “No. I’m serious. Are you?”

  “Well, yes and no. I do believe we are living in the last days, but that could still mean years. Definitely not tomorrow, too much has to happen. But who knows when?”

  “So let me see your basement.”

  “I don’t have one.”

  “So, I’m safe in assuming you don’t expect me to learn how to shoot a bazooka and live off the land or anything stupid like that, right?”

  “Yes, you’re safe, my big guns are all in the shop.”

  “Funny. So you’re not one of those guys?”

  “Not really. Pappaw and I went off-grid because we lost power every time a storm blew in. They were hinky about giving me a building permit for the house anyway. Didn’t want to rock the boat.”

  “What happened? Are we like outlaws here?”

  “No, they gave us a remodel permit, so we built this one.” He nodded toward the house. “Around the old one.”

  “Wow, really?”

  “Yes, ma’am. The whole house I grew up in is now our den, except we dismantled and then reused that one once we got the shell up.”

  She liked that. The man was intelligent and resourceful, except he hadn’t found a way around his promises. But somewhere deep inside, a part of her even liked that, too, him being a man of his word meant she could trust him.

  “Okay, then. How about you show me how to cook that pineapple cake? Are you smoking more ribs? They went over plenty big. The cake and the ribs.”

  “What about you? Like my ribs?” He jabbed a finger at her side.

  She danced away. “I’m no fool. Yes, I do. Want to wrestle, big boy?”

  He grimaced. “More than you’ll ever know.” He closed his eyes and shook his head.

  “Okay, Gij. So what’s the deal? Are you like a saint or something?”

  “Nope, the chief of sinners, just like Paul.”

  “Yeah, right, then how come we’re not…” She pumped her eyebrows then nodded toward his bedroom window.

  “Because the Lord is my rock.”

  “Okay, so what’s all this sinning you’re chief of?”

  “Lust of the flesh. Uh, your flesh. Lust of the eye, you again, and the pride of life, mostly you there again. I do have a bit of trouble remembering the only reason I have four shutouts and a no-hitter is only because of the Lord, His goodness and favor. And He knows I don’t deserve it, too.”

  “Awe, that is so sweet, but I think you deserve it all.” She loved knowing she drove him crazy, except didn’t reall
y understand the last part. “So tell me because I don’t get it. The pride of life part, how do I fit in there?”

  “Kids. Haven’t you thought of that? We will have the most awesome babies ever, but I have to remind myself, it’s the Lord Who will create them and give them to us. The glory of their greatness will all be His, not ours.”

  No way could she hide the smile that started in her heart and made its way to her face. She grinned so big, her cheeks hurt, and she couldn’t stop it either. He already fantasized about their children.

  She closed her eyes and saw a yard full of little ones running and playing, all beautiful, of course.

  “Let’s do it, Gij. Let’s run off and get married. Nine months from this very night, we could be holding our little Gij or Sammi Dan.”

  He backed away and held his hands up. “No, no. Not yet. It isn’t time.”

  “Who says? And why not? I love you, and you love me. That’s a done deal. And we’re obviously driving each other crazy.”

  “I’m not saying we don’t have the right to do it, but once we’re married, I don’t want to do anything for like a year. Work, I mean. And remember, the A’s are coming.”

  She ignored the baseball reference. “Only a year?”

  “Maybe two, but right now how about we see to breakfast and work out the rest of our day. I need to go in for a while this afternoon.”

  “Okay, meanie. We’ll wait.” She spun him around, put both hands on his back, and pushed him toward the house. But could she wait? And exactly what was he waiting on? She didn’t get it.

  Wasn’t like he didn’t have her daddy’s number, and no way the exact right white dress was so important. Right this minute, she’d settle for saying her vows in a nice jogging outfit with matching sneakers.

  While he cooked, she resisted the urge to pester him, but she really enjoyed the fool out of messing with him. She understood though.

  If she couldn’t get the mental picture of wrestling with the man she loved out of her mind’s eye, how bad must he struggle with that or something similar?

  “Hey, I got a question.”

  He flipped his wrist and her eggs went airborne. She loved ’em fried, but hardly ever took the time and always ate scrambled when she cooked for herself. His two over-medium looked easier than scrambling.