League of Her Own

by Faith O'Shea

  She slid down in the seat. “Now, I’m fucked because I care about him.”

  He whistled.

  “You’ve finally succumbed to love, and you’ve…been stranded on first base.”

  She wasn’t sure she’d go that far. Love was a scary proposition. Yet she couldn’t entirely rule it out. The fact remained she was all alone in it.

  She was playing with the napkin that was curled around the utensils.

  “That’s a cute baseball metaphor but I’m not even in the ballpark.”

  He leaned in, caught and held her eyes.

  “I wouldn’t say that. He’s texted you twice.”

  “He met with the new manager. He wants to tell me all about it.”

  “Then you can share. You’ve got some pretty impressive news of your own.”

  “He wouldn’t understand the significance.”

  That wasn’t fair. Most wouldn’t. They wouldn’t know what it had taken to get here, or where she wanted to go.

  “Doesn’t mean he wouldn’t be interested in hearing all about it.”

  “Rique is interested in very little beyond himself.”

  Even as she said it, she knew it wasn’t exactly true. He’d been asking questions, sifting through information as if he wanted to understand.

  “And you love this guy? What are you, a masochist?”

  She was about to deny the remark about love but didn’t. She might be able to fool Bohdan that love had nothing to do with it, but she had a feeling it was herself she’d be trying to fool.

  Instead, she agreed with his assessment. “Apparently so.”

  She’d have to be okay with that. Rique had given her the most exquisite night of her life.

  Bohdan was holding an onion ring, waving it in the air, punctuating his words.

  “Which takes us back to my original hypothesis.”

  She slumped back and admitted, “Which might be on target, but I also thought it would be fun, an adventure, lust being satisfied.” She didn’t realize it would be the most intimate thing she’d ever done. She’d never let herself be swept away before.

  “For shits and giggles, let’s say he decided he wanted you. What would you say?”

  She bit her lip, taking the time to think about that.

  “I don’t know. Not only because I’m driven, but because I’m not sure we’d work…outside the bedroom.”

  “There must be something about him that makes you overlook his ego. What is the one trait that attracts you over all others?”

  She didn’t have to think long or hard. “He pulls me out of myself. Makes me laugh.”

  “Shits and giggles aside, I think you’re a goner. Anyone who can do that deserves a prize.”

  As they ate, they relegated the topic of Rique to the back burner and focused on that what they’d do once they had their lab, how they’d dress it, what they wanted to accomplish. It was a more comfortable topic for her, involving less heart, more brain. When they parted, Bohdan kissed her cheek before saying goodbye.

  “Call me after you talk to Michaels. I’ll be sitting on pins until I hear from you.”

  “You’ll be my first one. Wish me luck.”

  “You won’t need it.”

  She wished he was right, but luck was going to be a big part of this, and she might already have received her full portion. As she drove toward Izabella’s house, all her thoughts were on the interview on Wednesday, preparing a mental checklist of all the questions that might be posed. She’d spend the next few days coming up with logical answers that might tilt the decision her way.

  Rique was waiting for her when she arrived, standing at the door that separated the house from the garage.

  “Where’ve you been?”

  He sounded anxious, as if he hadn’t been sure she’d ever return.

  With little room to maneuver, she opened her car door and squeezed by the screens that were leaned against the cement wall, waiting to be hung in the new windows come spring.

  As breezily as she could, she said, “Having lunch with a friend.”

  He stopped her by placing his hand on her wrist. “What friend?”

  Shrugging, she said, “Someone I worked in the lab with.”

  He seemed satisfied. With no further questions, he followed her into the kitchen where Hoover was waiting for her. She scuffed the gray head as a strange feeling floated through her. She wondered if this was what it would be like to be with this man, come home to him, a dog…a family. She suddenly wanted all that it entailed.

  With a flutter of excitement, wanting to share her news, she put down her purse on the counter and turned to him, but before she could say anything, he began a soliloquy on his meeting. She might have been deflated but his enthusiasm was catching. She loved watching his expressions, hearing his passion, learning new things, so she sat absorbed, and listened. Until he said, “He was even cool about my trip to Brazil. Said Monday would be fine to begin training again.”

  Reality smacked her right between the eyes. Izabella and Reid would be back tomorrow to reclaim their house, their dog, their life. This, what she had today, was not something she could build on. That’s when her bubble popped, and deflation whooshed her happiness away.

  As if she hadn’t made a seismic shift in attention, he continued. “I haven’t heard from Seb. I’m not sure that’s a good sign.” He checked his watch. “Never mind. He hasn’t even met with Mac yet. I won’t hear from him for an hour or so.”

  Distracted now by her despair, she forced herself to be part of the conversation, tried to inject some humor where there was none.

  “It doesn’t sound like he’ll be going back to the farm.”

  He passed right over her remark, as if she was merely a sounding board. Any woman with good manners would do.

  “I liked the guy but if he lets history decide the roster, I’ll be deeply disappointed.” He glanced up. “Oh, by the way, I met Casey. She was the welcoming committee.”

  She nodded at him, not wanting to take the risk her voice might give away her raw emotion.

  “Aren’t you going to ask what she’s like?”

  She didn’t really care one way or another. “That’s more a guy thing, I think.”

  He was up, his hands on his hips. “Maybe. Anyway, she’s tall, wears glasses, looks pleasant.”

  She looked up, took him in, and then dipped her eyes. The sight was too painful.

  “Is that like saying she has a good personality because her looks are suspect?”

  “No. She’s pretty enough. Cool as a cucumber, though.”

  “Maybe she doesn’t like ball players.”

  It made sense in her book.

  “Her father’s one of the best Greenliners who’s ever played.”

  “Not the same thing. A father’s rarely anything other than a father in a daughter’s eyes.”

  He threw his hands up in the air, as if she were missing something important. “She grew up with the sport.”

  He was exasperated. Was it because she wasn’t showing interest in Casey or she was giving him minimal feedback?

  She could feel his eyes on her, as if waiting for some scientific explanation. She looked up and met his gaze, swallowed the lump. “Are you asking if there should be a predilection for wanting an athlete for a mate? The answer would depend on a lot of other variables.”

  Like was she hurt by one when she was younger.

  “She manages the sports facility he owns, so she has a toe in.”

  “I like sitting at the edge of a pool with my legs submerged but I don’t like going all in. Maybe she doesn’t, either. Besides, I’d say that has more to do with financials and admin work than how fast she can run or how well she can hit.”

  “Well, Seb doesn’t have to worry. She’s engaged if the rock she was wearing says anything.”

  This piqued her curiosity. “She’s over him, then.”

  She wondered what it took. How long before the longing went away?

  “I’d
like to think so if she’s marrying someone else.”

  She gave him a slight sigh. That pretty much said it all. One couldn’t be hung up about a person and marry another.

  Hoover had been lying peacefully on the carpet, her head on her paws, so she suspected Rique had taken her out at some point since getting back, but she probably still needed a walk. She could use one, too. She needed to clear her head, put away the desire for something she’d only recently begun to want. Being the kind of person who needed to think her problems through rather than talk about them, or talk period, she had to grab some alone time so she could solve a dilemma that was becoming more complicated by the minute. She got up and went to get the leash.

  “Want me to come with you?”

  “Thanks, but no.”

  “Why?”

  He looked almost hurt, as if she were rejecting him in some way. It would never occur to him he’d done that to her already.

  “I need some head space. With you talking non-stop, I won’t get it.”

  And with that, she slipped the leash on and slid out of the door.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Enrique watched her go, uneasy at being left behind. Why did she need head space? Had he drained her with all that talk about baseball, the team, the new coach? He hadn’t given her an opportunity to interact. He’d just gone on and on. But that’s the way she usually liked it. Unless they were involved in some deep discussion, when they traded opinions, philosophies, attitudes. It was one of the reasons he thought they got along well together. They exchanged qualities each lacked. He was a grand thinker; she attended to detail. She was more comfortable in small groups; he thrived in large crowds. He liked to talk; she liked to listen. She supplied resources he lacked, grounded him, and he was gaining a more well-rounded approach to life. He wanted to believe he was providing her something similar. Yet he knew they couldn’t fulfill the deeper needs that came with a lifetime commitment. She wanted a career and deserved a rewarding one for all the hard work she’d put into getting her doctorate. He wanted someone who would cook him meals, make a home, give him children, provide him a place to hang his hat when he came off the road. It was a hard life and it took a lot out of a player. He didn’t want to come home to an empty house, devoid of human companionship. He wanted a woman, his woman, waiting for him. Fifi just didn’t fit his ideal.

  And he didn’t fit hers.

  He couldn’t play the role she needed, someone patient with her hours in the lab, someone who matched her in curiosity and intellect, someone who’d take on some of those wifely duties she’d abdicate. Where would she meet the man who would? If she isolated herself, she’d be cutting herself off from the possibility of a relationship, and she’d miss out on the most important part of life.

  Maybe she already knew him. He still hadn’t asked her a lot of personal questions. Who had she had lunch with? He’d been more than mildly curious but hadn’t followed up. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. If she’d met some guy, he would have…what?

  He gravitated to the family room, turned the TV on for some background noise and dropped onto the couch. There was a slow rumble of emotion that hit him, but he couldn’t define it. He’d wanted her to find someone, someone who would make her feel cared for. Loved.

  He just didn’t want her to find it while they were still here and he still needed her.

  He jumped up, restless, and began to pace. They only had one more day together and then she’d be going home. He’d find a place of his own and their lives would branch off. They’d go their own ways. Him to Brazil then Sanford for spring training, her to…where? Would she have to leave the area to find a lab? Could she end up in California, like her mother suggested? He could see her when the team was out West, to play the Dodgers or Padres. They could hang out, talk…but it would have to end there. He’d be married by then, and no matter how well they fit together or how intimate they’d been, he couldn’t make love to her.

  That thought hit him hard in the gut.

  Don’t be ridiculous. You’ll have found another lover. One who you’ll have promised to love and cherish. Her bed will be the one that calls to you.

  But he couldn’t imagine it. The only face he saw there was one with soft dove-gray eyes and framed by curls.

  He felt itchy, his nerves rubbing his skin raw, his body as tight as a bow. As he got ready to bolt, to go for a drive to clear his mind, his cell rang.

  He grabbed it up, needing another voice to break through the silence and his chaotic thoughts.

  “Seb? What happened?”

  “I’m still with the team, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  He smiled, not only because his friend was still a Greenie but because the statement had made him think of Fifi. “I knew he wouldn’t send you back to the farm.”

  “If there’s probation, I’m on it. He made it very clear I’m to stay away from Casey, who happened to be there I might add. It should be easy enough. She’s fucking engaged.”

  “Is that annoyance I’m hearing in your voice?”

  “No. I couldn’t care less.”

  “Could you try a little harder to mean it?”

  There was a pause, then a gulp.

  “She looked good. Like the Casey I knew. But I’m still not ready for what she wanted. She’s found it with someone else and I’m happy for her.”

  “Sure, you are.”

  “Mac spent at least ten minutes extolling the virtues of her fiancé. He’s a graduate of Wharton, like that’s some big deal, and has a job at a Fortune 500 company. Good husband material and would never break her heart. Blah, blah, blah. You want to grab a drink?”

  Rique wavered. He did but he also couldn’t afford to miss his last night with Fifi.

  “Can’t. Maybe tomorrow. The Jacksons will be home, and I might need a reprieve from Reid’s harping.”

  He’d also need to be out with friends so as not to miss a woman who’d come to mean too much to him.

  “Fine. I’ll call Mattie. Later.”

  Rique clutched the phone in his hand. Maybe he should have gone, gotten out of here. Another night with Fifi wouldn’t be enough. Should he put off his trip to Brazil? Take all the time he needed to extinguish the feelings she evoked in him? But what if that didn’t happen? Would he put off a family for a relationship that couldn’t go anywhere? No. He’d made a commitment to himself and he meant to keep it. Discipline. All he’d need was some discipline.

  But when she walked in the door after a half hour of panther-like pacing, he gave her time to release the leash and take off her coat before he scooped her up in his arms, savoring the feel of her, her scent, the tickling sensation of her hair against his skin.

  It took an eternal minute for her to wrap her arms around his neck and her legs around his middle. The kiss was deep, wet, and satisfying. The night in her arms was bliss. She spoke to him through her touch, and it was more information than he could handle.

  He was almost glad he was alone when morning came. The sheets a tangled mess, the only reminder of how they’d consumed each other.

  He dragged himself up, pulled on his pants, and went looking for her, tripping over Hoover who was lying outside his door. Knowing the dog would be hanging with Fifi if she was here, he said,

  “Hey, girl. Did she go out for breakfast?”

  The dog picked herself up, nudged his side, and he rubbed behind her ears as they descended the stairs. Only silence welcomed him. No one was in the kitchen. The coffee carafe was sitting on the sideboard. Fifi’s coat was no longer hanging on the back of the stool. Where was she? He looked around for some sign. What he found was a note lying on the island. The writing was small but neat, and the message was clear.

  Izabella,

  Reid, and family should be home by mid-morning. I fed Hoover and took her for a short walk so she should be fine until they get here. Good luck with the season. You better give it all you’ve got. I’ll be watching you.

  Thanks for the memories.r />
  Fiona

  P.S. I hope you find who you’re looking for.

  P.P.S. I saw this shirt on-line and thought it would be perfect for you. It was on the doorstep when I left this morning. Wear it in good health.

  As he read the last sentence, he felt an emptiness like he’d never felt before consume him.

  He opened the yellow mailer and pulled out a deep green tee shirt. He unfolded it and smiled at the message written in white letters. In my defense I was left unsupervised.

  He was still sitting on the couch three hours later, still clutching the tee and the ragged slip of paper she’d written on, when he heard Hoover barking at the garage door. He hadn’t showered, was still wearing the same pair of pants he’d put on upon awakening. He couldn’t find the energy to meet his sister and her family at the door. Couldn’t seem to move for the life of him.

  It was Reid’s voice he heard first. He was standing just outside the room, had yet to venture in.

  “We’re back.”

  Without inflection, he said, “I heard.”

  “What the hell’s wrong? Did Mac slice you up?”

  “No, Mac was fair in his assessment. We’ve come to an agreement. I’ll work hard and he’ll let me play.”

  “So why are you moping around?” Reid finally came in and stood facing him, his hands on his hips. “You’re not hung-over, are you?

  Rique dropped his head against the back of the couch.

  “No. I haven’t had more than a beer a night since I got here.”

  “It can’t be grief. You didn’t know Farina well enough.”

  It was grief, in all its dark colors and muted shadows. It would just take him a few days to work through it. By Thursday he’d be in Brazil, surrounded by family, and he’d find someone else to fill his mind. And heart.

  The kids had come running in, jumped on him, and he let their hugs and kisses soothe him. He cradled Leeni who was sitting on his lap. Alex’s arm was around his neck, Hoover’s snout resting on his knee. He wanted this, wanted to live with something bigger than himself.

  His sister leaned down and kissed his cheek.

  “Are you sick?”

  He shook his head.