One and Done (Red River Romance Book 3)

by Caryl McAdoo

  “Been meaning to come to Big D and look you up, but with the ranch… Haven’t had much free time, taking care of my job and hers and the boys. She left the four little guys with me.”

  “My, sounds like you’ve sure got your hands full. Hope it all works out for you. I do.” He should never have been allowed to reproduce.

  “Hey, how about dinner tonight? There’s a new place just the other side of Detroit. It’s a hunting lodge, has these little cabins, and the food is great. Might even talk me into taking you hog huntin’ later. How long’s it been since you chased an old sow on horseback?”

  He flashed his best smile, the one that once upon a time would melt her into a blubbering blob of ‘yes-Rex, whatever-you-say, Rex.’ But not now, not this day, and not any other day either, now that she’d grown up and got wise.

  She gave him her not-in-a-million-years smirky grin, then held her left hand up under his nose and wiggled the ring finger sporting the rock Gij had bought her.

  “You may have not heard, or forgotten. I’m spoken for.”

  “But I thought you and that Johnson guy had split up. Word is he sent you packin’. Isn’t that why you’re in Red River County? Heard you’d come home with your tail tucked between your legs.”

  Her faced burned so that she fully expected smoke to rise out her ears and nose. A dozen retorts fought to get free of her mouth, but instead, she just smiled. “You take care now, Rexie. And the next time you see me, I’d really appreciate it if you’d be so kind as to act like we don’t know each other.”

  She headed straight for the checkout and left him with the rest of the raw meat. Pulling out of the parking lot, she caught sight of him in her rearview mirror but had no urge to look back.

  Wow.

  She really must be in love with Gij. That rodeo clown didn’t do anything for her anymore. Just like her daddy said. You can dress up white trash, but that don’t make him comfortable in a silk shirt.

  CHAPTER

  twenty-nine

  Sammi Dan hashed and rehashed seeing the man-child. Whatever hold he had on her before had vanished. He definitely would never be her Fred, and for that bit of realization—and only that—running into him proved a good thing.

  But would her heart forever be joined to Gij?

  How many times had she thought about him since she’d come back? But not once had she thought about Rex. For the longest, she would have melted into his arms if he offered to take her back, but not now.

  And not ever. On the flip side of the pancake though, would she, could she, ever get over Johnson? As she flew down the gravel county road raising a cloud of dust, no answer came.

  As soon as she turned off onto her home lane, the multi-antennae van with Fox News plastered on its side and all manner of satellite dishes on its roof smacked her square in the eyes.

  Great.

  The news hounds had asked around enough until someone spilled their guts and set them on a straight trail to Daddy’s. She parked the Caddy. Two men and one lady climbed out and surrounded her.

  The female reporter smiled an I’ve-got-you-now grin. “Miss Davenport, did you come to Dimple because of Johnson’s drug use?”

  She stepped back. What was she? Crazy? “Heavens no. What? Drugs? Where would you get such an idiotic idea?”

  “It’s all over the internet.”

  “Goes to show you can’t take everything on the world wide web as truth.”

  “But reliable sources claim Johnson discovered a new PED, and that you caught him shooting up. Care to comment on camera?”

  “Who makes this stuff up? That’s absolutely preposterous. Gij doesn’t even drink, much less pump himself full of any performance-enhancing drug. What he has is called a gift, not an illegal substance.”

  “Can I quote you on that?”

  Sammi Dan held the of-course-you-can tight and ran a quick mental search. He hadn’t ever mentioned not telling anyone what a goodie two shoes he was or him being a teetotaler either. “Certainly, of course. By all means, turn your camera on.”

  The lady’s smile turned genuine. “Thank you, Miss Davenport.” She nodded toward the camera man, did a quick canned intro, then faced Sammi Dan.

  “As we’re all aware, stories about the Ranger’s rookie phenom, G. H. Johnson have been burning up the net. Every social media site is ablaze with rumors over his two no-hitters, not giving up a single run in his first seven starts, him breaking numerous records—some that have been around for decades—and his very public break-up with ex-girlfriend and Fox contributor Samantha Davenport.”

  She’d never heard herself called his ex-girlfriend and didn’t care for it one bit. But that’s what she was, right? She’d left him and wasn’t with him anymore. Suddenly, she realized the woman had gone silent and the mic was pointed at her own mouth.

  “I’m sorry, what was the question?”

  The woman seemed a bit perturbed and glanced over at her cameraman. “I said, is it over? Your relationship?”

  Sammi Dan knew instantly what a deer in a headlight experienced. She shook her head and tried to formulate a full sentence.

  “Excuse me? That is no one’s business and has nothing to do with people accusing Gij of drug use. I suggest you stick to the script if you want an interview with me.”

  Ha! Caramel fudge! How’d the woman like it how Sammi Dan turned that worm?

  The reporter’s face grew red. “Sorry, Miss Davenport. It’s just that…” She cleared her throat. “Anyway, Johnson’s unbelievable performance even has non-baseball fans talking. His distracters purport that what he’s done is beyond credence. They claim it couldn’t be done without some new, undetectable PED. You probably know the man better than most. What do you have to say about these allegations?”

  The lady stuck the microphone at Sammi Dan.

  “That they’re unfounded, ridiculous accusations born of jealousy and stupidity. Anyone even slightly acquainted with George Herman Walter Johnson would certainly say that he’s the kindest, moral, most gentle man and of the highest integrity they’ve ever had the privilege to know. He would never cheat, not at any game. The vicious rumor that he’d even think about using performance-enhancing drugs is ludicrous. The man doesn’t even drink.”

  The lady took the microphone back. “Then tell me, Miss Davenport, how can you explain him throwing a baseball a hundred and six miles per hour when it’s never been done? Or that his sliders are practically impossible to hit?”

  “For one thing, how do you know his great-uncle didn’t throw that fast? There was no technology back then to measure the speed. Ty Cobb said Walter Johnson was the only pitcher he ever faced who could make the ball sing.” She smiled. “Gij once told me when I asked the same question, that I should ask the Lord about that, said it was Him Who made that arm and gave him the talent.”

  “So how come after ten years of not playing the game at all, is he able to come back and do all the miraculous things he’s doing?”

  “He hurt his arm when he was pitching at fourteen. He says the Lord healed it last year, and yes, that would be a miracle. After all, Christians everywhere believe God can part a sea so that His people can scamper across on dry ground and no one has any problem with that. What’s so hard about believing He can heal an arm injury? Until someone proves otherwise, that’s the best answer I’ve got, and I’m sticking to it.”

  “And, if I may, what about you, Samantha? If you believe so much in the man, of his integrity, why are you here in this… this tiny backwoods community of Dimple, Texas, instead of in Seattle?”

  “Good question.”

  The lady smiled. “Okay. Care to expound?”

  Sammi Dan shook her head.

  “On screen last night, Johnson told the world that he loves you. May I ask how you feel about him?”

  Sammi Dan plastered on her best on-air smile and held it until the camera’s light went off. “You folks have a nice day now, and get off my daddy’s property. You may not have seen his sign
. It says ‘Due to ammunition’s rising cost, no warning shot will be fired’. Now that may be for a laugh, but the no trespassing sign isn’t. We don’t cotton to intruders in Red River County, like our privacy. So git.”

  She took the porch steps two at a time and went straight to her room. “Cate?”

  In a minute, her daddy’s betrothed filled her door. “Yes, dear?”

  “Guess you saw ’em.”

  “Yes, I’m sorry. I tried to warn you, but your phone was off.”

  Sammi Dan threw her empty suitcase on her bed and began filling it. She waved off Cate’s apology. “No problem, probably for the best I talked with them.”

  “Are you going somewhere, dear?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’m going home. Where’s Daddy? ”

  “He’ll be shredding ’til lunch, sweetheart. Remember? He told us at breakfast.”

  Sammi Dan smiled and nodded, but must not have heard a word of it, because she couldn’t recall anything about him mowing the CRP. Silly crop reduction program should’ve been cancelled years ago. Good thing, though. He might have got them all in trouble with those Fox folks.

  She returned her cowgirl rags to the chest of drawers where they belonged. Maybe she’d rig up for Gij one day, but she’d never wear wranglers in public again. She hated the way Rex had undressed her with his eyes, but she loved the fact that he no longer held any sway over her heart.

  Something needed to get settled with Johnson. She needed to get back where she belonged. But exactly how was she going to do that?

  Gij’s phone lit up. The first three notes of her call ring song filled his heart. He grabbed the little electronic marvel and touched its screen. “Hey, baby.”

  “Hey yourself, Johnson. Open the gate for me.”

  “Sure. You there now?” Good, very good. She came home.

  “Duh, no. I’m still in Dimple.”

  He wanted to pull her through the phone and kiss that smart aleck mouth of hers. “Okay, of course you’re there. Hang on.” He keyed in the codes to open the front gate.

  “Where’s my car?”

  “Aren’t you driving it?”

  “My other one, Old Faithful. What’d you do with her?”

  “She’s in the barn.” Was she only returning the Cadillac?

  “Can you open that and the garage for me?”

  “Sure, but why?” No good at all. He punched in both of those codes as well.

  “You ask too many questions, Johnson. What difference does it make?”

  That wasn’t good either. “What happened to you calling me Gij?”

  “Aren’t you there in Seattle?”

  “Of course.”

  “Okay, then. Thank you and goodbye. I’m busy now.”

  His phone went silent, and the silence pierced his heart. He studied the thing for a second hoping she’d call back, but it only mocked him with her smiling image.

  Oh Lord, give me strength.

  But at least she’d called and had gone home. But was it only to take the Caddy back and retrieve her old car? He walked to his room’s double glass doors and pulled back the drapes; the drizzle had stopped.

  He hated her being there and him half a continent away, but he had to stay the course. He couldn’t think about it, had to put her out of his mind for now.

  Jeff wanted him ready for tonight.

  He glanced at the bedside clock; still early, but better the stadium than here.

  Work it out, Father. Soften her heart. Bring her to You and back to me.

  Sammi Dan parked the Caddy in her space, then grabbed her bags. Passing through the hall, she took a deep breath and relished the sweet air of where she belonged. She could smell him in the air. She stopped, dropped her bags in the grand room, and hugged herself.

  This place was home. Everything about it felt so right it was almost silly, as though for her whole life this property and house was what she’d been looking for, its entirety what she’d been wanting since she graduated high school and left home. But she understood exactly what he’d said about it being hollow without her.

  No matter how great the place might be, every footfall rang hollow. It just wasn’t the same without him being there. That’s what she wanted more than anything—his presence. Why had she ever left? She wanted him, needed him. She smiled.

  He’d be so surprised.

  The best laid plans of a soon-to-be-not ex-girlfriends oft go astray. Forget the stupid mice. At every turn, Sammi Dan got delayed. All her extra time vanished between Texas and Seattle.

  Instead of arriving at the stadium two hours early, she reached her destination well into the game, evidenced by the crowd’s moans and cheers.

  Working her way through the maze of Mariners’ Baseball security proved to be quite the nightmare that left her with a headache and an out-of-joint neck.

  But her diligence and bulldogged persistence paid off and the seafarers’ folks awarded her a media badge after only eight or eleven calls back to Dallas.

  For all her hurrying and scurrying, she sauntered onto the arena in the middle of the eighth inning. She caught up with April in the camera well, right next to the visitors’ dugout. The centerfield scoreboard told the tale, bad guys nothing to the Rangers’ zip. Apparently, she hadn’t missed a thing.

  She touched the producer’s shoulder. “Hey.”

  “Sammi Dan! When’d you get here?”

  “Just now.” She rubbed her throbbing temples.

  “Does Joe know?”

  “Yes.” Sammi Dan lifted the media badge hanging around her neck and thrust it forward. “You’d think it was twenty-four karat gold. Done any mid-games?”

  “I got one from Martin; he made a saving catch in the third, and another from Holland after he came out in the seventh.” April leaned in close. “So does Gij know you’re here?”

  “No. I wanted to surprise him.”

  “Jeff said in the pre-game that everyone was available.”

  Sammi Dan closed one eye. “Yeah, he pitched last night; has Gij got up yet?”

  “No, but he’s in the bullpen.”

  She stepped back and pressed against the wall. “Think he can see us from there?”

  “Nah, I don’t suppose he can see through concrete.”

  Like both teams pressed too hard, the score stayed tied through the regulation nine and first extra inning. In the bottom of the eleventh, the heavyset Ranger rookie gave up a double.

  Of course the Mariners bunted him from second to third, but the throw pulled Fielder off first base, and the bad guys had men on first and third. No outs.

  Sammi Dan wanted to slap someone. Had she jinxed the good guys?

  Oakland had lost earlier that night, and the Rangers were about to blow their chance to tie them in the standings and finally break the gist of the parallel waltz the top two teams had been dancing.

  Oakland won, Rangers won, Texas lost, A’s lost. It was ridiculous.

  April nudged her shoulder then threw a nod toward the pen. Gij was warming up.

  “Beets! Jeff is going to burn him up.”

  “We’ve got to win this game.”

  A heavy, long sigh escaped, and Sammi Dan shrugged. Well, if what Pappaw said was true, then guess it didn’t matter. Either he’d be okay, or Pappaw’s predictions were only the dreams of a dying man, hallucinations.

  But what would that mean about him saying Gij needed a weather girl?

  After a trip to the mound by the pitching coach, the left-handed rookie intentionally walked the batter to load the bases. Then Carlos made an extra-long visit, pulling the home plate umpire onto the field hollering.

  Jeff slow strolled to take the ball, and her very own Ranger phenom jogged to the mound and played catch with Corporan.

  It took all her self-control not to jump over the camera well’s metal rail and throw herself on him. Serve him right if she did. He never should have let her go.

  CHAPTER

  thirty

  Gij finished his warm up toss
es, then listened to the second base ump tell him that the bases were loaded. Okay. He knew that, and Blue knew he knew, but of course, the man had to give him the report; one of the strange baseball rituals.

  Pitching in relief was the pits, and he hated it. For sure, he did not care to be in the position to clean up someone else’s mess.

  Well, he didn’t mind at all taking care of Pappaw there at the end. And if he ever had the chance, he’d be happy to do it for Samantha Danielle, too. He shook away the mind’s image just thinking her name produced. He had to focus.

  Okay, get ready. Get set. Carlos wanted high and hard, exactly what this guy had trouble with.

  The batter fanned the air three times in a row. Three strikes. One away.

  Thank you, Lord, for the fire You put in this arm.

  Gij started the next guy off with a straight change, then followed that with a fastball, low and inside, that barely caught the plate. Where his first batter fanned at every pitch, this guy stood motionless.

  Heavens above, he loved called strikes best. Corporan fancied a slider, huh? Was that really necessary with the bases loaded? Seemed mighty risky. He walked off the mound and turned his back to home plate.

  Wasn’t like the man on third belonged to him. Matter of fact, he didn’t own any of the runners. Could be disastrous though if Carlos failed to block it. He exhaled slowly. Alright then, if he called for a slider, then that’s what he’d get.

  A belt-high start should do the trick. The batter swung and missed bad. His catcher caught it right before it got dirty. Two away.

  Next Mariner sauntered to the plate like he’d eaten fire for breakfast. Gij gave him one medium-hot, and the guy lashed it down right field foul by only a few feet. Not good. He offered five more pitches.

  The man laid off the two sliders and spoiled the three in the strike zone. Full count.

  Corporan asked for another fast ball in the top of the zone. Danger, danger, Will Robinson. Gij smiled. If he missed, he’d walk in the winning run. He swallowed and stared his batter down, then twisted back and let it fly right at his catcher’s mitt.