One and Done (Red River Romance Book 3)

by Caryl McAdoo

The next guy caught up with a fast ball and drilled it. Gij’s left hand shot up and snagged it, then fired it to first and doubled the runner off.

  “Woot! Woot! Woot!” Sammi Dan pumped her fist in circles then shivered. Mercy, that was too close. The next batter watched three.

  Eighteen up and eighteen down, but he’d lost the perfect game. Hadn’t he? “Hey, April, look it up! Does that double play get his perfect game back?”

  “I don’t need to look that up. The walk killed the perfect game.”

  “Are you absolutely certain?”

  “Positive.”

  With two outs in the bottom of the sixth, Beltre went to one knee and golfed a slider over the left field fence. Okay! Way to go, Adrian! Rangers one, Dodgers zip! Carlos slapped one to second to end the inning.

  She cupped her hands around her mouth. “Hey, Johnson, got a minute? I’d like a word or twelve with you.”

  He stopped right before he reached the foul line, glanced at her, then mouthed later.

  “Okay, I’ll give you three batters.”

  He shook his head, then reached the mound and put his game face on while he warmed up.

  Gij got the first batter with two high fastballs and a slider in the dirt. Next guy popped up a straight change, but not after he fouled off three heaters.

  So far so good, but this was the third time through the lineup, and the Cuban strode to the ol’ dish. Gij had had trouble with this guy in LA.

  Oh, Lord, let Pappaw be right. Put some extra fire in Gij’s arm, help him.

  First pitch, a slow curve, the guy missed by a mile. Where did that come from? She glanced at the radar, sixty-eight? He had a slow breaking pitch? She had to have him talk to her now.

  The second throw, a heater outside. The batter didn’t swing full. Carlos and Gij both appealed to first base Blue. The man raised his right fist, strike two. Okay. She wanted him to waste one high, make him fish for it.

  Instead, he threw it right down the middle. The Cuban swung, and the slider bit hard. The catcher put both hands to his sides and blocked the pitch, retrieved it, and tagged the batter.

  Strike three. She blew out all the breath she’d been holding. Whew; twenty-one outs, six to go. In two more innings, Gij would only be the third pitcher ever to throw a no-hitter in the World Series.

  Then like she’d prearranged it, her soon-to-be better half put his jacket over his pitching arm and strolled to the dugout’s end. “Did you want me?”

  “April, get your camera on.” She turned and winked. “Yes, sir! You have no idea how much I want you.”

  He laughed.

  She glanced at April. “You ready?” Her producer nodded, so Sammi Dan went straight into her first question. “So, when did you get that banana ball?”

  “Oh, let me see.” He shrugged. “When I was twelve? No, thirteen, yeah, that summer this girl I knew claimed her boyfriend was a better pitcher because he had a curve. So, much to my Pappaw’s chagrin, I went to throwing all kinds of junk. He always claimed it took the hop off my fastball, but…” He shrugged again. “It got guys out.”

  “So do you have very many more to surprise all your fans?”

  “How about we talk about that after the Series is over.”

  “Oh, I suppose that’ll work. Don’t want to be giving any secrets away, right?” She pointed the mic to him, but he only nodded. “But you’ll tell me later?”

  He laughed. “Sure.”

  “Any predictions?”

  “No, let’s not go there.”

  “How about game four? You excited about batting?”

  “Not really.”

  “What? And why not? Two out four ain’t bad—with a homerun and a double. Sounds to me like Beltre might be concerned.”

  “No, I’ll be batting ninth, and hopefully, there will be someone on base I can bunt over.”

  The crowd’s collective moan pulled his attention to the field. The Dodgers trotted toward the visitor’s dugout. A glance to the scoreboard confirmed she hadn’t missed anything exciting. The string of zeros lengthened toward the right.

  “Back to work.”

  “Thanks, Johnson.” She gave her canned sign-off then straightaway went back to being a fan. “Three up, three down! Get ’em, Gij! You’re the man!”

  He only had to show the curve twice to get out of the eighth. On Johnson’s way to the mound for the ninth, with the Rangers leading one to nothing, it dawned on her. Three more outs would be worth eight million dollars.

  Oh, no. Was he thinking that, too? With each swing of the bat, her breath came harder, then his first batter left home for his dugout.

  Out one. The crowd’s roar increased. Hard, cold cash mountains of money filled her mind’s eye. Eight mil, mercy, she could buy… What would she buy?

  Oh, Lord, help him do it.

  The second guy dribbled one to Odor who fired it to Fielder. Two outs, the roar rose another ten decibels. Collective insanity, her heart pounded, air came hard.

  One more, one more, one more, Lord! Help him, renew his strength!

  She didn’t want to look, closed her eyes. Eight million dollars, she could hardly believe what throwing that baseball over that little white plate could mean to her and Gij. Was there anything she wanted?

  Beyond being with Gij forever? She peeked, couldn’t stand it. LA’s batter fanned the air. Strike one. Even more noise, would her ears ever be right again?

  “Come on, Johnson, get this guy out. One more! You can do it!”

  Even from the camera well, she could spot the steel in his eyes. She loved it, but would hate it for sure if he ever turned that expression on her. He wouldn’t, would he? Strike two, a slider in the dirt that got away from Carlos. Do not do that again, not on strike three. Gij powdered his hand with rosin then twisted back and flung the ol’ horse hide.

  The Dodger froze. The big hook floated over the dish. Blue turned sideways and punched the guy out with World Series flair. Game over. The crowd went bonkers. Sammi Dan jumped over the railing and helped the Rangers mob her man.

  CHAPTER

  thirty-eight

  That next morning—game two of the Series—with only nine days to go before the biggest and best day of her life so far, Sammi Dan woke with it all swirling around and past her mind’s eye.

  She tried to picture what eight million dollars looked like. How many suitcases would it take?

  What about quarters? As a kid, she dreamed about cashing a big check and getting it all in change, but back then, anything over a dollar was taken to the bank for her savings account money, not spendable.

  Only the change could be bartered for candy and bubble gum, then later, eyeliner.

  In a year or less, she’d have a baby of her own and get to relive all those fun times, but then her children would never know lack, no mac and cheese with hot dog suppers or anyone fretting over bills.

  What a blessing. A wave of how undeserving she was broke over her again and unsuccessfully tried to wash away her joy.

  She loved having money.

  A light rap pulled her out of bed. Cate’s lump didn’t move. Sammi Dan smiled; she hadn’t slept with that many women in her life, but her daddy’s intended slept like a rock. She eased out of bed then threw on her robe and quietly slipped out the door.

  Gij stood there grinning at her. “Come check this out.”

  “Sure.” Her hand found his, and she walked with him toward his room. She stopped at the door. “Do we need a chaperone?”

  “No, I trust you.” He backed into this room.

  She stepped in and scanned his walls, still adorned with too many pictures of her, but different ones. Some from the last couple of months, one with her standing in front of her dad’s place, another she hadn’t seen before that her daddy must have given him. Why would he want one of her when she was twelve?

  “You changed your decor.”

  “Yeah, a while back. Can’t get enough of you.” He nodded toward his monitor. “Come check this out.”<
br />
  Slipping into his chair, she focused. Right there in front of her, a video of her jumping over the camera well rail, and then like she was Moses and the other Rangers the Red Sea, they parted letting her get to Gij.

  She didn’t remember jumping from so far back or wrapping her legs around like that. She watched for a while then faced him. “Ooooo, it’s a wonder I didn’t hurt you.”

  “Naw, I saw you coming.”

  She rewound the video twice then listened to Mitch and the gang gush about Johnson’s performance, especially him adding the slow curve to his pitch repertoire. Stuff they all called it, like the talking heads couldn’t come up with a better word.

  “If Banister doesn’t blow out Johnson’s arm pitching him so much, the Rangers’ oldest ever rookie’s potential is unlimited.”

  “He should certainly be considered for the Cy Young this year.”

  Mitch turned from his anchor-mates and faced the camera. “Folks, phenomenal is not a strong enough word for what this man has accomplished in such a short time. George Herman Walter Johnson will go down in baseball history, a credit to the memory of his great-uncle’s prominence in those annals. I’ve studied the films. Every pitch comes out of the same arm slot. Let me tell you, that is no easy task.”

  He shook his head like he couldn’t believe what he’d just said, and the ex-pitcher across the desk took up the bragging on her honey.

  “Couple that with the fact that Johnson has been out of baseball for ten years. It’s truly amazing. And before he went to Mexico, the guy hadn’t pitched since he was fourteen years old.”

  Sammi Dan faced her lover. “When are we going to spill the beans?”

  “About the wedding or us not playing their silly kids’ game anymore?”

  She focused on his eyes. They were so deep and strong and all hers. Like a whirlpool of love, they pulled her to him.

  Her heart fluttered and skipped a beat. She made herself look away lest she be carried into his very soul and never return. Especially with his bed right there, only a few steps away.

  Oh Lord, give me strength. “I better get out of here.”

  He glanced around, stared at his bed for a few beats of her heart then looked back. “Yeah, I could use some coffee.”

  She let him pull her to her feet. “Well, to answer your question, I actually meant more about you not playing anymore, but yeah, what about our pending nuptials?”

  “Don’t give any details about when or where on the wedding, but you can choose the time to announce that yes we are getting hitched. Let me decide how I’ll announce my retirement.”

  At the top of the stairs, she faced him. “Having second thoughts?”

  “No, I promised Pappaw. They’ll be talking about us and this season for years to come. We’ll be part of baseball lore forever, I suppose. But it’s going to break a lot of Ranger fans’ hearts.”

  He was right, and she would love it. Well, not breaking all those hearts. She’d had too much of that in her life, but her name would be tied to his for like, ever. “Okay, big boy, so spill your guts. What other pitches do you have?”

  He laughed. “None that I’m planning on throwing, but the Dodgers don’t know that.”

  Once at the bottom of the staircase, she elbowed him. “You’re such a sly fox, keep ’em guessing, huh?”

  “For sure. If I threw nothing but heaters, some of these guys would knock the cover off of it.”

  She loved it. A game within the game. Her dad always called baseball chess in motion. How true.

  He poured the coffee and handed her a cup. “What’s happening today? Need me to break any ties?”

  “No, we’re on the downhill slide I guess. I think pretty much everything’s decided. Now it’s just about getting it all done.”

  Soft footfalls pulled his attention away. He smiled at her mother. “Hey, Mama Charli, you ready for coffee?”

  Having her mother around so much and her helping with the plans had softened her disdain some. After plenty of java and a killer breakfast, she huddled with Charli and Cate and got back at it.

  Somehow, she found time to pack her bags for the trip tomorrow to LA since they’d be leaving at the crack of dawn to drop off the parents before getting with the team.

  Gij and the men went on to Globe Life Park early, but she and the mothers kept at it until late afternoon then hightailed it there and made it on time—barely. Baseball and her work rudely interrupted her playing wedding.

  Stupid Rangers three; bad guy Dodgers four. Even if she should’ve known her team couldn’t win every game, she hated losing. Did Gij have to do it all? Seemed as though one of the other pitchers could win a game. But then, the loss didn’t rest squarely on Holland’s shoulders either.

  The bullpen blew that one.

  Travel day arrived with its hurry up and wait, mad dash to the airport, drop the old people off, then back to the ballpark. She didn’t really have time for this, three whole days in the city of Angels.

  Yeah, right. Those guys were no angels. They wanted to beat her Rangers’ brains out.

  Game three did not go well. Sammi Dan hated interviewing losers, especially when the good guys had gotten shutout five to nothing.

  But what Miss Scarlet said, standing at her front door, watching dear Rhett go as the realization struck her that she had to go back to Tara, was just as true then as now. Tomorrow was another day.

  And it would be a better day, too. Gij would be taking the mound. On the bright side, she and April had been able to get some work in on the wedding. Bless the Lord for smart phones and paid planners who would stay up all night when necessary.

  For his sixth no-hitter, Gij played the Dodgers like a bunch of school girls. Seemed to Sammi Dan that time and time again, he gave them exactly whatever they were not looking for.

  Sit on a fastball, and he’d drop the big hook; wait on the hook, here came a slider right down the middle that’d break off into the dirt. Eighteen strike outs, not one ball out of the infield. But for the two walks, he’d been perfect. Did he keep doing that on purpose?

  Finally, someone else won a game besides her man. When LA’s last batter fanned the air on his last ball for the last out, the collective moan from the Dodger faithful caressed her ear like sweet music. Gave the Rangers a three game to two lead and made the plane ride home all the better.

  Bless God; the last two games would be played at Globe Life Park in Arlington.

  Ha! Pappaw said not to open her letter until the morning after game seven. If a betting lady or even a lady in need of dollars, she’d short stop Vegas and bet the farm on the Dodgers for game six. The mere thought made her want to spit, and she hadn’t done that since her last dentist visit when that assistant had insisted she use the little stainless steel spitting sink.

  She elbowed Johnson. “Hey, you got all your teeth?”

  His top half moved away from her. “Uh, yeah, I do. Where’d that come from?”

  “Oh, just thinking about the dentist, and… Never mind.”

  “I do have a crown.”

  Crown? Like a king? What’d he say? Didn’t register. “Huh?”

  “A crown.” He put his little finger in his right cheek, pulled it back, and tilted his head. “See?”

  “Oh, okay. Whatever.”

  Somewhere over Nevada, could have been New Mexico, he spoke again. “I thought you wanted to know about my teeth?”

  “No.” She gave him a what-do-you-think-I-am?-Crazy? Look. “Well, yes, I mean…” She leaned her face towards his and puckered her lips, brushing his cheek with her palm. “I want to know everything about you, my love. But right now, I’m only trying to make it to Saturday afternoon.”

  He patted her hand then leaned in even closer, eye to eye, so close she semi-expected a butterfly kiss. “Sweetheart, it’s Saturday night that’s on my mind.”

  She wiggled her brows at him, smiled, then pulled back into the plush leather head rest and softly shut her eyes. He always put things into such
a great perspective for her, and she loved it.

  The planning had wrapped up so much of her attention; she’d hardly spent any time thinking about that all important wedding night.

  With each article of clothing that vanished in the mental movie show going on behind closed eyes, warmth spread through her core. Nothing else would matter then.

  No one but him and her.

  She opened her peepers and turned her head toward him, putting her cheek against the cool leather.

  “Oh, my dearest man, if only you could get into my head.”

  He grinned as if he’d been having his own private theater.

  The very thought of being together, one with him forever caused her heart to swell so big it seemed inevitable it would burst any minute. Throw babies into the picture.…

  Oh, yeah, Lord, give us plenty of little Johnsons. But could she really stand any more blessings? Would her heart pop? Let’s see, three boys to cover all his names and two girls for hers; that’d be five.

  Guess then she could start working on her parents. At least her daddy and Cate anyway. She didn’t see herself handling a Charli or a baby Freddie.

  Sleep found her as she struggled to remember her grandparents’ full names. She really needed to know these things if….

  Tuesday dawned in the sky right in front of her, as the jet raced toward the sunrise. Her off day rushed by in a blur, followed by Wednesday’s game six. Of course, the Dodgers won seven to three.

  How could they not? Gij needed one more no-hitter, and she needed the morning after game seven, per Pappaw’s letter. It never moved too deeply into her mind, and so far, everything sure had fallen into place.

  Tiramisu, she sure would like to understand how that prophesy stuff worked. Gij said it bore a resemblance to seeing the future the same way you could look at the past, but that didn’t make much sense.

  Did it? She grinned. Might after three or six double shots of tequila.

  Thursday got all mixed together with last minute plans, the pre-game jitters joined forces with pre-wedding nerves and… Why, oh, why had she given up alcohol? Oh yeah, her about-to-be-husband in-two-days didn’t drink, and she wanted to be one with him, so…