"Good kids," Spencer said as Sherry hustled the reluctant boys along, anxious not to miss Ross Sr. tee off.
Taking a water bottle from her bag, Blue nodded. She swallowed half the contents before replacing the cap.
"Aren't you playing?" she asked, relieved her words came out fairly normal instead of a dry, raspy croak.
"I'll catch up."
Reaching out, Spencer took the water from Blue's hand. Removing the cap, he raised the bottle to his lips, emptying what remained. The gesture felt so… intimate. His mouth where hers had been just moments earlier.
Shared fluids. The implication was undeniably sexual.
Spencer tossed the bottle into a nearby garbage can.
"Is this an awkward silence?" Spencer asked.
"Maybe." Blue thought for a second. "Probably.
"Must be a first for us." With a frown, Spencer rubbed the back of his neck. "Because of what I said last night?"
"You surprised me," Blue admitted. To put it mildly.
Spencer lifted his hand as if he wanted to touch her. At the last moment, he clenched his fist, dropping it to his side.
"I meant every word, Blue." Spencer lowered his glasses. Peering over the edge, the expression in his eyes was pensive. "Too soon?"
"You want the truth?"
"From you? Always."
Blue looked around. They weren't drawing any attention. Yet. But the longer they continued such a personal conversation in such a public place, somebody was bound to eventually take notice.
"You go that way," Blue pointed toward the south entrance of the club house. "I'll go around back. There's an empty conference room near the registration desk. Meet me there."
"How do you know? About the room? Or whether or not it's empty?"
"I arranged for a tour of the facilities before anybody else arrived."
When Spencer raised an inquiring eyebrow, Blue shrugged.
"Be prepared. That motto doesn't just apply to the Scouts."
Without another word, Blue casually, but with purpose, strolled along the path leading to the clubhouse. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Spencer doing the same.
As subterfuge went, her plan was pretty lame. However, Blue wasn't on anybody's radar. The crowd came to see celebrity baseball players. Not the assistant to the head of Cyclones' PR.
Spencer would draw eyes. The ultra-famous always did. And when that person had the face of a slightly fallen angel—and the body to match? Anonymity was impossible.
However, Spencer knew how to slip away when he wanted some privacy. Blue had seen his skills at work—back in the day. She had no worry that he'd make their rendezvous without attracting a crowd.
As Blue expected, the clubhouse was almost deserted. She passed a few staff members going about their business, but for the most part, everybody was where they were supposed to be.
Out on the golf course.
Slightly out of breath—with anticipation—Blue slipped into the conference room.
"What took you so long?"
Blue jumped, her hand grasping her chest as if worried that if she didn't, her heart would jump free.
"Me?" she exclaimed to a smirking Spencer. "How did you get here so fast?"
The route she took was shorter, Blue knew that for a fact.
Spencer appeared relaxed. He leaned against a chair-lined table, long legs stretched out, ankles crossed. "You forget, Bluebell. This isn't my first trip to this facility. I scoped out the shortcuts long ago."
"Why?" In spite of herself, Blue couldn't resist asking. Then, wisely, she decided she didn't want to know. "Never mind."
Reading her perfectly, Spencer chuckled. "Nothing sexual."
"No longer my business." The last thing Blue wanted was a rundown—slim or detailed—concerning Spencer's sex life.
"No," he agreed. Standing, Spencer's gaze sharpened. "But that brings us to the question on the table. Do you want my sex life—my whole life—to become your business again?"
Wow. Blue had to hand it to Spencer. He wasn't afraid to speak his mind. Or tell her what he wanted. First last night. Now this afternoon. She wasn't there yet.
"Do you still hate me, Blue?"
The question brought Blue up short. Made her think. Finding an answer didn't take long.
"I hate the way you ended our relationship. Always will."
Spencer's green eyes clouded over. Pain. Blue understood the feeling. At one time, she wanted him to hurt the way she did. But not anymore. The revelation lightened her spirit considerably.
"I don't hate you, Spencer. Lord knows I tried. I convinced myself that I did."
Blue couldn't count how many times she said those very words to Jordyn. I hate Spencer. Jordyn's response? Every time? No, you don't.
Funny thing about a best friend. Often, she understands you better than you understand yourself.
"Oh, Blue. You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that." Spencer's smile wasn't a full-on grin. Close. But not quite. "Have dinner with me."
"I can't."
"You have to eat."
"True." Blue loved to eat. "And I'd say yes. Unfortunately, there's a flight leaving for Seattle in three hours, and I have to be on it."
"What is with your boss?" Spencer sounded as disappointed as Blue felt. A fact that gave her ego a nice boost. "What kind of crazy patchwork plane connections does he have you making this time?"
"I learned my lesson. Unless Vance catches me off guard, I make my own travel arrangements. Non-stop whenever possible."
"That's something." Spencer moved closer until he stood a foot away. "When will you be back?"
Originally, three trips to Arizona were penciled in on Blue's schedule. A press day and a dinner for a local orphanage. That had changed late last week when Vance suddenly decided to go in her place.
Though he didn't give a reason, Blue had her suspicions. She made the mistake of appearing too eager to carry out her assignment. Vance had a petty streak a mile wide and wasn't shy about showing it.
"Bastard," Spencer growled.
More and more, Blue felt a sharpening edge to Vance's animosity that seemed to go beyond simple jealousy or dislike.
"I bring out the worst in him."
"You're young, ambitious, and on the rise. Your boss is none of those things. Some people handle the backend of their career with grace. Then there are the Vance Sutters of the world. Because they have nothing else, they get their jollies by spraying their bitterness over everybody else."
Vance could spew a vat of bitterness Blue's way. She wouldn't let him mess with her head. However, if he tried something else? Something personal? He'd soon find out that if he messed with her, she wasn't afraid to hit back. Hard.
"We need to get back," Blue said. "We have responsibilities we're shirking."
"One more thing. May I call you?"
"Of course." Spencer looked so earnest, Blue had to bite the inside of her lip to keep from smiling.
"Every day?"
"If you like."
A pleasant warmth spread through Blue. The heat she felt was reflected in Spencer's eyes.
"I do like. Very much." Spencer hesitated. A rare occurrence for a man with his confidence. "I want to hug you. But…"
"The road back has shortened considerably." Miles melted with every passing day. "I'm not ready for a lot of things. But it isn't too soon for this."
Blue wrapped her arms around Spencer, pressing her lips to his. He pulled her close, molding her body to his—without an ounce of hesitation.
The kiss wasn't what she'd expected. They didn't fumble, awkwardly trying to figure what had changed and how to make this work.
They came together so naturally, Blue sighed with wonder. This—Spencer's touch—is what she'd missed with other men. They… fit. She couldn't think of a better way to describe the feeling. After a second, she couldn't think at all.
Making up for four years with o
ne kiss was impossible. But they tried. Blue's toes curled—actually, physically curled as Spencer's tongue touched hers. Her legs grew weak, but Spencer's strong arms were there, holding her tight.
Thoughts swirling on a tide of bliss, Blue wondered how she survived for so long without the taste of him. Oh, yes, she sighed. Like nobody else. So sweet. So hot.
So… Spencer.
"When do you have to leave," Spencer asked, his chest rising and falling, his breathing hard
"Soon."
Blue gasped as Spencer's teeth grazed the vein that pulsed wildly along the side of her neck.
Reluctantly—torturously—she pushed at his arms. Slowly, Spencer complied, dropping his hold. Blue's emotions warred. Gratitude or regret. Neither could win—not yet—the battle ending in a virtual tie.
"Too soon," she said.
"I won't push."
Though Spencer looked as if it took all his willpower not to do just that. And Blue wasn't sure—if he gave in to his desires—that she'd have the strength to say no.
"If you like, we can have dinner as soon as you get back to Seattle."
"April third. The season opens the next day."
Spencer's lips quirked. Blue smiled. They both knew what that meant. An early night—and no sex.
"I'll cook."
"The hell you say?" Spencer scoffed. His response effectively broke the tension. "When did you learn to do more than boil water?"
"I always could," Blue insisted. In her book, toast and scrambled eggs counted.
Spencer sent her a skeptical look.
"Fine. I'll order out."
"Sounds like a plan." Taking her hand, Spencer raised it to his lips. His kiss lingered. Soft, but filled with promise.
Blue felt a rush of emotions. Anticipation. Hope—her current favorite. And a myriad of others that were too complicated to sort through.
Maybe she and Spencer would get it right this time. Maybe not. But either way, the doubt was gone.
Succeed or fail. Blue knew she'd never be happy unless she tried.
CHAPTER TWELVE
MARCH DREW TO a close with the Cyclones in good shape both physically and mentally. The closer the team inched toward the start of the season, the antsier the players became.
Restlessness was normal. Spencer would've worried if he and his teammates weren't chomping at the proverbial bit.
Spring Training served an important purpose. Knocking off the cobwebs. Honing their skills. Building chemistry. But by the third week, practice games became more of a necessary evil.
When the Cyclones broke camp on April third, to a man, they swore if they never saw the training facilities again, it would be too soon. Of course, next year—around the middle of January—that would change. Again.
Playing baseball—playing any sport—was a cycle. Love of the game—and a blissfully short memory—made every season feel brand new.
Spencer never had a problem getting geared up for the season. This would be his eighth campaign—Jesus, where had the time gone? He understood the ebbs and flows.
The quote hope springs eternal wasn't coined with baseball in mind. But when referencing the game, the words were prophetic.
Each year began with nothing but high expectations. Even the teams with no real shot at a winning record harbored not-so-silent dreams of playing meaningful September baseball.
Then there was the handful of organizations—like the Cyclones—with a real chance. Surprises happened. That one team that miraculously came out of nowhere to challenge the norm.
Cinderella accepting her glass slipper. Or World Series trophy. Then the unimaginable happened, the sports world cheered. Miracles were good for the game.
However, most of the time, the front-runners were the ones to cross the finish line. That's simply the way games—and life—worked.
Was it fair? If asked, Spencer's answer was always an emphatic hell, yes!
Money and smart draft picks could give a team certain advantages. But nothing could make the players deliver.
Desire. Determination. Want. Need.
Call it what you wanted. Each person had to figure out what drove them. But when twenty-six men worked their asses off toward one goal, the results could be a thing of beauty.
Spencer knew what winning felt like. He also knew the disappointment of getting so close to the top of the mountain only to watch things crumble at the last moment. Bitter didn't begin to describe the taste left in his mouth.
The Seattle Cyclones entered the new season propelled by last year's failure. Game one of one-hundred and sixty-two would be played on their home field. The crowd would be filled with hope. Was this finally their time? Would they hoist the trophy come October?
If asked—and he was. Often. Spencer's answer was emphatic.
Hell, yes!
The bounce in Spencer's step as he entered Blue's building had as much to do with her as baseball. Though she spent the last few weeks in Seattle while he toiled away in Arizona, they made progress in rebuilding their relationship.
Texts. Emails. Phone calls. And the, what did we do before it was invented Facetime all contributed. Blue's open mind—her willingness to give him a second chance—did the rest.
"Good evening, Mr. Kraig." Looking up from her seat behind the front desk, Rhonda smiled. "Ms. O'Hara let me know you were coming. Go right up."
Entering the elevator, Spencer waited, the short trip seeming to take longer than he remembered. Like the baseball season to come, he and Blue weren't a sure thing.
Variables had to be considered in any equation.
To be honest, Blue made Spencer more nervous than stepping up to the plate in front of sixty thousand-plus screaming, expectant fans. He knew what to expect on a baseball diamond.
After four years apart, Blue turned out to be a bit of a wild card. She'd changed. They both had. Discovering the differences was exciting. And nerve wracking.
Spencer couldn't remember the last time a woman threw him off his stride. Maybe never? Not even the first time around with Blue. Especially not the first time, he laughed—at himself.
Present day Spencer Kraig had a healthy ego. He brimmed with confidence. But four years ago, those attributes had been off the charts.
Then, his ego was alarmingly bloated. His confidence a trifle inflated. Thankfully, both attributes had trimmed down a bit to more reasonable proportions.
Blue's confidence had risen to new, appealing—and yes, sexy—heights. Her time in New York. Living on her own. Her job. Each experience added layers that Spencer couldn't wait to peel back, explore, and thoroughly enjoy.
"Finally." Blue greeted Spencer with a huge smile, opening the door before he could knock. "That elevator seemed to take a lot longer than usual."
"Great minds think alike."
Spencer started at Blue's bare feet. Her pink-tipped toenails. The loose, flowing pants and matching sleeveless top. Her full lips, sparkling eyes, and glossy red hair piled in an artfully messy bun on top of her head.
His gaze took in the tantalizing parts of Blue. Then, he took all of her into his arms.
Finally, Spencer thought, his mouth covering hers. Without realizing, he'd been on edge since the Cyclones' plane touched down at SeaTac. One taste of Blue and his muscles began to relax. In his mind, he thought he heard them let out a long, happy sigh.
"Hello to you, too." Blue breathed when Spencer reluctantly pulled back. Her cheeks were flushed with pleasure. "I'm glad you took the initiative. All I'd planned was a friendly hug. And pizza."
"Pizza sounds good. But I'm not finished with the appetizer."
"Watch it, fella. You don't want to start something you can't finish."
Letting Blue lead him away from the front door and the living room, Spencer shrugged.
"We'll finish."
Blue handed Spencer a bottle of beer. His favorite. He took a sip, pleased that she remembered.
"Not tonigh
t. With opening day less than twenty-four hours away, the best I can offer is a drink—one bottle, no more. A couple of slices of pepperoni, olive, and green pepper. And some company."
"I gladly take all of the above. What about tomorrow? After the game?"
Blue laughed, obviously enjoying their banter as much as he was. However, Spencer didn't miss the flare of interest in her eyes.
Of all the things that had changed, he was glad to see at least one thing hadn't. The way the clear gray of her eyes turned dark and smoky with desire.
"We'll talk about it then."
Spencer knew when to push his advantage. And when he'd be smart to pull back. Blue was in the driver's seat. She controlled their speed and direction.
Most things came easily to Spencer. Even the hard work he put into his job. He enjoyed the process. So, in the end, getting where he was had been neither work nor a hardship.
Waiting for Blue wouldn't be as easy. But when she was ready—soon. Please. Spencer knew the satisfaction would be worth it.
"I've missed you."
Blue didn't remind Spencer of the fact that they'd spoken—seen each other's faces—almost every day since she left Arizona.
Spencer meant—though he hadn't realized it until now—that he missed having Blue in his life. Her friendship. Her body.
And yes—too soon or not—he missed Blue's love.
If—on occasion—Blue wasn't the smartest person in the room, she was right near the top. She didn't need Spencer to spell out what he was thinking. The look in Blue's eyes seemed to reflect what he was felt.
Spencer hoped he wasn't deluding himself. Seeing what he wanted to see.
ABOVE ANY DATE during the calendar year. Better than Christmas. Or birthdays. Or… anything. In Blue's book, nothing could compare to opening day.
Baseball was back, baby.
The smell of the peanuts, hot dogs, and anticipation filled the air.
As an added bonus, this year, Blue was officially part of the Cyclones family.
"Calm down. This is one game. One in a long, long, long season."
Blue didn't pay any attention to the gentle derision in Jordyn's tone. Her friend was on the record as not loving baseball. She loved her brother. She loved Blue. But a game where grown men hit a little ball with an oddly shaped stick? Nope.
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