by Leger, Lori
“What did we tell you? Lexi-isms. They’re something, aren’t they?”
“They are, and as beautiful as their mom,” Red agreed.
Carrie and Sam approached the two men. “Red, I didn’t know you would be here,” Carrie said.
Red hugged her tightly. “I asked them not to tell. I wanted to surprise you.”
“How are Vivi and Pete?”
“My folks are fine. I spoke to them yesterday and told them I’d be seeing you. They send their love.”
“Carrie, you know Red already?” Lexie asked her.
“I’ve known him all his life, sweetie. I babysat for him when he was about your age, except I called him Scottie. Red, whistle at Giselle and wave her over here. She’ll never get away from that one.”
“Yes ma’am.” Red emitted a shrill two-finger whistle, and when Giselle looked up at him, they all waved her over.
Giselle looked up at the sharp whistle, saw the group waving at her. She zeroed in on Jackson, looking hot as ever, even in shorts and a white v-neck T-shirt. She made her excuses and walked over to meet them. “Hey, Red.” She gave him a hug. “Hey Sam, Carrie—Jackson.” She passed behind him, letting her hand slowly caress his lower back.
“Giselle.” His eyes lingered hungrily on her.
She pulled her gaze from him, to address Carrie. “Where’s the rest of the gang?”
“Gretchen, Lauren, and Amanda are driving in together. They should be here any minute. Their guys are all taking the kids to the river today. Are you ready to play ball, Jackson?”
“Sure am. How many teams did we end up with, Carrie?”
“Only four, thank God. It’s too hot for this,” she said.
Sam got the team captains to draw numbers. Jackson drew the number one position, so they got to play the number two team. The two teams got their players on the field and it turned out that B & L’s team was short a person. Nobody from the Jennings team wanted to sit out, so they asked the team captain to pick a volunteer from the stands. When Red volunteered, Jackson waved him down to introduce him to their team.
Sherri Dubois, the catcher for his team, also an LSU alumni, approached them with a question. “You wouldn’t happen to be the same Scott McAllister that played first base at LSU on one of the winningest teams ever—would you?”
Red removed his cap to run his fingers through his short hair. “That would be me.”
Sherri turned to her co-worker. “And we just happen to be short a player, huh? So, Jackson, who’d you have to bribe to stay home today?”
Jackson gave her a deep chuckle. “Nobody, it must be my lucky cap.” He grinned at Giselle, sitting up in the stands, and waved Toby’s old purple and gold cap at her.
Sherri laughed. “Good God, those poor bastards out there have no idea they don’t have a snowball’s chance in hell. Talk about a stacked team.”
The first game went quickly. Jackson pitched, Red covered first, Tyson was on second, and Clayton played third base. Sherri was the only woman on the team, and they were fortunate to have her catching, a position she’d played in high school and college. They got three immediate outs with no runs scored.
Their team lined up to bat. After five batters, they had three points on the board and two on bases. Red hit a home run to stretch their lead to six points.
Jackson came up to bat and Mac and Lexie yelled at him to ‘call it’. He turned, grinning at the three people who meant the world to him. The little girls screamed with laughter as he used his bat to point at left field. Just as he had done at Sam and Carrie’s, he smacked one right where he’d pointed, for an easy run.
With no outs, they let the other team take their bat again. This time Jackson walked a couple of people so they could get on base. The next batter hit a grounder straight to him; he fumbled it a couple of times and threw it sloppily to Red who dropped it so that the runner could make it to first. The bases were loaded and it looked like the other team would finally score some points. When the next batter hit a pop fly to third base, Clayton caught the ball to put the batter out, along with the runner, who stepped off third.
Jackson shook his head in disapproval as the spectators laughed, obviously aware of his attempt to help the other team.
Clayton looked down sheepishly. “I’m sorry I caught the ball!” he yelled.
Jackson pointed at him. “Do that again and you’re off the team, buddy!” The spectators burst into laughter.
Mackenzie approached the fence, hands on her hips, and called out to Jackson. “Why did you fuss at that man for catching the ball, Jackson? He’s supposed to catch the ball and put them out, isn’t he?”
Jackson took a knee in front of Mac. “Well, I was trying to give the other team a chance to score because our team is a lot better than theirs. It’s called good sportsmanship.”
Obviously not satisfied with how he’d answered her sister’s question, Lex called down from the stands. “Well, somebody should have told that other team to pick better players,” she insisted, garnering even more laughter.
Despite Jackson’s efforts, they still beat the other team by a score of 14-2. After they finished, their team joined the cheering section in the stands to the sound of applause. As soon as Jackson sat down on the bleacher in front of Giselle, Lisa Benoit, the company’s accountant, sidled in next to him. Lisa was a petite blonde, with a high pitched voice that got higher when a good looking man was around, and a laugh that had always annoyed the hell out of both Carrie and Giselle. She was single and always on the lookout for a man, married or not.
“Jackson, I didn’t know you could play ball like that,” she gushed, hanging on his arm. “Oooh, have you been working out?”
Jackson unwound Lisa’s arm from his, and attempted to watch the next game. It was closer than the first game, but Lisa’s chattering was a constant distraction. The woman’s pitch was getting higher by the octave, louder by the decibel, and he’d had about enough.
“For God’s sake, Lisa, give it a rest,” Carrie groaned. Lisa looked back to see who had spoken, and Carrie looked down at her. “Yeah, it’s me. You think you could turn it down a notch or two? The rest of us can’t hear ourselves think.”
“Well excuse me for trying to carry on an intelligent conversation with Jackson. Come on honey, let’s go sit somewhere else.” Lisa pulled on Jackson’s arm.
Giselle straightened, her hackles rising at the woman’s nerve. Red, who sat beside her, placed a restraining hand on her arm. She threw a glance in his direction in time to see him shake his head and give her a wink.
Lisa stood, took three steps down, and turned to face Jackson. Seeing he hadn’t followed her, she moved to return to her seat beside him. Fortunately, Mac and Lexie had already scooted in smoothly next to him. He grinned at the girls and picked up Lex to set her on his knee as he made more room for Mac beside him.
“I’m sitting there, you two can move aside,” Lisa screeched, her tone containing all the pleasantness of fingernails on a chalkboard.
“I don’t think so, honey. You move it, you lose it,” Gretchen said, leaning over to address Mac and Lexie. “You girls stay right where you are.”
“Jaaackson!” Lisa stomped her foot on the bleacher.
“What?” he asked.
“Are you coming?” she whined.
“No.” He completely avoided her gaze.
Lisa finally got the message and stomped off, while several people in the bleachers snickered. Jackson covered his face in embarrassment.
“Who is she?” Lauren asked.
“Lisa Benoit and she obviously wants Jaaackson,” Giselle whined in a perfect imitation of Lisa, to several more chuckles. When Jackson turned in his seat to face her she refused to make eye contact with him.
Irritated at herself for letting Lisa get under her skin, Giselle tried to concentrate on the next game, which lasted a lot longer than the first one. By the time it was over, it was close to noon. Everyone took a break for lunch while someone played music from a portable sound s
ystem. Giselle climbed down from the bleachers, and stretched to get the kinks out of her legs and back. She walked over to Jackson’s truck, where the drinks were located for their team. Jackson handed her an iced tea.
“Have you seen the girls?” she asked
“They’re over there with Red. He’s getting them chips and sandwiches. You ready to eat something?”
“No,” she said, icily.
He pulled her around to the other side of the truck for some privacy. “Are you angry for some reason?”
“Should I be? Just because you let Lisa hang all over you for a full twenty minutes? You encouraged her,” she seethed.
“I said two words to her—‘what’ and ‘no’.” He grabbed her arm when she started to turn away. “Are you jealous?”
“Of Lisa? Of course not.”
He grinned and leaned in close. “You know, we wouldn’t have this problem if we weren’t keeping a ‘low profile’. Then you could put your mark on me and make sure all the other females stayed clear.”
Giselle glared at his back as he walked away from her, her mouth hanging open in shock. Her eyes narrowed to angry slits. “I know he didn’t,” she murmured. “You want to play, big boy? Game on.”
Giselle sauntered over to Red. “Jackson must pay. Are you in or out?” A look of unspoken understanding passed between them, before Red nodded.
“Hey sweet thing, you want me to fix you a plate?” Red crooned.
“Would you do that, Red?” she asked sweetly.
“Anything for you, hon.” He gave her his most charming smile.
She grinned. “Thanks Red.”
“Anytime beautiful!” he answered loudly as he handed her a plate of food. He took Giselle’s arm and turned her in the opposite direction toward the bleachers, his hand placed intimately on the small of her back.
Jackson stood there, his mouth gaping open as the two of them carried on a lively conversation during their walk to the bleachers.
“Aw, hell!”
“What’s wrong with you?” Carrie asked from behind.
“I think I’m being punished,” he groaned.
“You should be. There’s no excuse for you letting Lisa hang all over you like that. If I hadn’t told Mac and Lexie to scoot in next to you, she’d be fused to your hip by now.”
“I didn’t even talk to her,” he hissed.
Carrie released an exasperated sigh. “Come on, Jackson. Do you want me to cut up your food into bite size pieces for you, too?”
He rolled his eyes, and turned to her. “All right, how do I fix this before it gets out of hand?”
“Treat Lisa the same way you treated Izzy. Don’t put up with any crap from her and you’ll be okay.” She walked off.
Jackson got a plate of food and a drink. He walked toward Giselle and Red, catching the wink his friend passed him, a sure sign that Red was in on her game. When he was a few steps away he heard the most irritating of voices again.
“Jaaackson—there you are! I found a spot for us right over here,” Lisa whined, pulling on his arm. Jackson glared at her, knowing Giselle, Red, and several other people were watching.
“Lisa, I’m not interested,” he said, trying not to be rude.
“How do you know, unless you’ve had a sample?” she asked.
“Believe me, you don’t have a damn thing I want.” The line didn’t work as well on Lisa as it had on Izzy. She wrapped both hands around one muscular bicep, and pulled on him again. He glared down at her. “And you never will. Let go. Now.”
Lisa stomped off as the message finally seemed to sink in.
Determined to resolve this thing, he approached Giselle, his unwavering glare locked on her. “Are you happy now?” He dropped his plate unceremoniously on the bleacher, and swiveled, turning his glare on Red. “And you—Hef! Your role in this little charade is over, so go find someone else’s leg to hump.”
Red smothered his grin, picked up his plate and left them.
Jackson sat down, and began to eat in silence, determined to ignore the gaze Giselle had locked on him. When he couldn’t stand it a moment longer, he looked up. “What?”
She simply smiled, one brow lifted, apparently amused at his aggravation. “That’s more like it.”
Jackson led his team to another win, beating the winner of the second game far too easily. After that blowout, the three other team captains converged to form one all-star team in order to give Jackson’s team some competition.
By the time the game began, it was three o’clock in the afternoon. The temp had soared to a miserable one hundred degrees, with a heat index of around a hundred and seven due to humidity. The all-star team won the coin toss and lined up to bat. The first batter hit a double to center field. Jackson nodded in admiration as Todd landed safely on second.
“Alright, heads up gentlemen—and lady.” He tipped his cap, acknowledging his catcher. “We have us a ballgame!”
The second batter hit a grounder to third and Clayton scooped it up but held it to keep the runner at second. The third hit a pop fly that Jackson easily caught. The one after that tipped a ball making it pop up. Sherri caught it for the second out and the cheering section went wild. Their next batter, Carrie’s old buddy, J.C., hit a good, solid double, bringing one run in and leaving his team with runners on second and third. Their next man up hit a fast one straight up the middle, toward Jackson’s face. His quick reflexes paid off as he caught it in his glove, saving himself a black eye, broken nose, or at the very least a busted lip.
Jackson’s team performed beautifully at their first bat and by the time the second inning started, B & L’s team took to the field with a solid 6-1 lead. The all-star team tightened up the score drastically in the next inning, pulling ahead by one.
By this time, every single one of the ball players was soaked with sweat. Jackson and Red walked over to the water faucet to drench their heads and upper bodies.
Giselle watched, in horrified amazement, as Jackson and Red removed their shirts and stuck them under the faucet.
“Oh my God,” she murmured under her breath.
Carrie turned to her. “What’s wrong?”
Giselle shook her head, sat back with arms crossed, and waited for the fallout. It wasn’t more than a few seconds before she heard several women gasp as they saw the two men shirtless.
“Oh my God, would you look at that,” Amanda murmured.
“Holy crap!” Tina leaned forward on the bleacher. “How long has Jackson been hiding that under those business suits and Polo shirts?”
Within seconds, every female in the park was drooling over Jackson and Red’s bare, bronzed torsos. Giselle clenched her jaw as the ‘oohs’ and ‘ahs’ continued even after they wrung their shirts out and put them back on, causing steam to rise up from their heated bodies.
Jeanette leaned forward in her seat. “Carrie, who the hell is that guy with Jackson?”
“That’s Scott McAllister, but everyone calls him ‘Red’. He’s from my hometown, and I used to babysit for him.”
Jeanette’s laughter rang out. “Lord have mercy, I’d like to babysit for him now.”
Another woman murmured just loud enough for those around her to hear. “I’d like to have his baby.”
That, in turn, lead to others chiming in.
“I’d have either one of their babies.”
“Hell, I’d have both their babies.”
Giselle leaned forward, placed her hands over her pounding temples, her jaw clenched so tightly she thought she’d break a tooth.
Carrie clucked her tongue. “Red might know, Giselle, but Jackson has no clue.”
She faced her to ask what the hell she was talking about.
“Neither he nor his uncle have any idea how attractive they are to women. Not a drop of conceit in either of them.” She leaned forward to whisper as the buzz of admiration grew to fevered pitch. “You can’t very well blame them, can you? You’ll just have to sweat this one out.”
Gi
selle shook her head. “Not without a handful of aspirin.”
Jackson and Red headed back to the dugout to wait their turns in the batting line-up. All the men followed their lead by drenching their heads and necks under the faucet. Hearing a buzz from the stands, Jackson turned to seek out Giselle’s beautiful face. He found her all right; her face grim, tense, and looking like she was about to open up a can of whoop ass on someone. His stomach clenched at the sight of her rubbing her temples. His mind jumped to concerns of heat related illnesses. He pivoted, turning back to the stands. He caught her gaze as he neared. She shook her head and said something to Carrie before she jumped out of the bleachers and headed toward the parking lot. She was almost to her truck when he caught up to her.
“Giselle!” She stopped but didn’t face him. He tugged gently on her arm to turn her. “Are you okay?”
“I have a headache.”
Her tone stumped him. He couldn’t tell if she was feeling ill or just annoyed. “Are you drinking enough water?”
“Yes. I’m not dehydrated, Jackson. It’s just a headache.”
“Do you have something to take?” He felt her forehead.
She nudged at his hand and pointed to her truck. “In my purse. Getting it now.”
“You sure it’s not heatstroke?”
“It’s not. It’s-it’s probably just—stress.”
“From what?”
She leveled her gaze on him. “Oh, for God’s sake. Carrie’s right. You have no idea!”
“About what?”
“Go, I’m fine.” Giselle waved him off and continued to her truck.
Jackson stood there, his arms spread wide, totally stumped at her tone. “No idea about what?” His jaw dropped in shock as his sweet Giselle mumbled something and swore like a Marine. Confused as hell, he made his way back to the stands and paused next to Carrie’s spot in the bleachers.
“Hey Carrie. Something’s wrong with Giselle. Make sure she drinks enough water, would you?”
Carrie and her three daughters exchanged glances before dissolving into laughter. “She’s fine, Jack. She’s got to learn to adjust, that’s all. She’ll get over it.”
“Adjust to what? Get over what?” Their amused snorts did nothing to ease his confusion.