Charming the Shortstop

by Heather B. Moore

  “What are you doing right now?”

  “Taking advantage of my day off.”

  “Which means you’re eating soy ice cream and wearing PJs,” Gabe said. “You know what that will do to your complexion. I’m bringing over a face mask.”

  “Gabe—” But he’d already hung up on her.

  Brighton picked up the bowl of half-eaten ice cream and carried it to the sink. She should probably shower before he got here—and if traffic was light, that would be in about twenty minutes.

  For the umpteenth time, she pulled up the contacts on her phone and read through the one that Axel had put in. She couldn’t lie; when she thought of him taking her phone and adding the number himself, tingles raced through her.

  It was all still surreal to her, and if Gabe hadn’t been there for part of her interaction with Axel, she might think it had been some crazy dream. But it had been real. Brighton had even read the online version of the Belltown Chronicle and the write-up about the wedding, penned by Harlow Ember. There was a picture of Axel with the Six Pack included in the lineup of pictures.

  Brighton might have also inadvertently spent too much time on Twitter, reading through all the links to the #BelltownSixPack hashtag. Lots of pictures to find, as well as mentions of their college days in Belltown.

  Brighton had stared at the picture of Axel and his former teammates way too long, but her favorite picture was currently saved to her picture app. She’d screenshotted it from another article that had been published last fall. The picture was of Axel signing a baseball for a fan. The photographer had caught Axel just as he looked into the camera. His lips were curved into a half smile, and his gold-brown eyes peeked out from under his baseball cap.

  With a sigh, Brighton plugged her phone in, then went into the bathroom. As she showered, she thought of when she’d first started dating Leo. He wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous like Axel, but Leo had a charisma about him that had drawn her in. Her co-workers had seemed impressed too, and Brighton supposed she’d let it go to her head. Leo had flattered her, and things had moved quickly. Before she knew it, he’d brought up marriage, and he had even arranged to meet her mom.

  At the dinner with her mom and Leo, her mom had stared at him with a dreamy look and said, “If I were dating you, I would have already proposed.”

  Everyone had laughed, but that night, Leo had said, “Let’s do it. There’s no reason to wait. We’re in love, and life’s short.”

  So they’d set a wedding date.

  Brighton turned off the shower and dried off. She found her comfiest and oldest yoga pants in her bedroom. They’d be perfect, and they’d also tell Gabe that she was serious about staying in until she had to report to work.

  Someone knocked at her door, then rang the doorbell. Brighton smiled. Only Gabe was that impatient. “Coming!” she called.

  She grabbed a T-shirt from the laundry basket of yet-to-be-folded clothing and tugged it on as she walked to the door.

  “Hi,” Brighton said, opening the door. Gabe wore dark jeans and some sort of silky shirt with polka-dots. Few men could pull that off, and Gabe was one of them. “You look nice—”

  Gabe stepped into the room and kissed her cheek. “Some of us are social on days off.” He strode to the windows and turned the blinds against the darkening night. “But I’m here for you, because you’re more important than any vintage party.”

  “How do you always hear about those kinds of events?”

  Gabe turned and held up his phone. “Google, sweetheart. Oh, and sorry, I forgot the face mask in the rush to get out the door.”

  Brighton locked the door. “It doesn’t matter. Although now I feel guilty that you’re here and not at your... thing.”

  Gabe crossed to the couch and sat down, then patted the cushion next to him. Brighton joined him and leaned her head against his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her.

  “You know my philosophy,” he said after a minute.

  “What’s that?” she asked. Gabe had a lot of philosophies, most of which he made up on the spot when it was convenient.

  “Don’t do anything you’ll regret,” he said. “For instance, if you let too much time go by without contacting Axel, he might move on to someone else. And by the time you realize your giant mistake, he’ll be married with twin babies on the way.”

  “Twins?” Brighton snorted. “Maybe I should just step out of the way so he can find his one and only all that much faster.”

  Gabe squeezed her shoulder. “Or maybe it’s you. So you should go to the game tomorrow. Say hi. Let him make the next move. He made the first move. You make the second move by going to the game. He’ll make the third move—”

  Brighton slugged him in the stomach.

  “That hurt.” Gabe’s voice sounded more like he was trying not to laugh.

  Brighton pulled away from him and straightened so that she could look him in the eyes. “That’s just it. What if he doesn’t make the third move? What if he says hi, but nothing else? Or what if he doesn’t remember me as he’s surrounded by his adoring fans, which will include plenty of other women?”

  “Whoa,” Gabe said. “Slow down. What makes you think he won’t remember you?”

  She bit on her nail, and Gabe was quick to tug her hand away.

  Brighton sighed. “Somehow the stars magically aligned last week. Axel Diaz took me on a date. We had fun. He kissed me, and he put his number in my phone. What if... what if that’s just the thing he does? So he doesn’t hurt a woman’s feelings? I mean, he has a mom and sister, so he’s probably thoughtful in a lot of ways.”

  Gabe said nothing, just stared at her like she was an idiot.

  She scooped her hair from her neck and twisted it into a messy bun. “Here’s the thing, Gabe: if I don’t go, then I can keep the fantasy alive. I can believe Axel does like me, and that he does want me to call him. But if I do go, and he doesn’t make that third move, then I’ll know.”

  “Know what?” Gabe prompted.

  “I’ll know that none of it was real,” she said, flopping back on the couch. “That Axel Diaz is like all the other men out there.”

  Gabe cleared his throat.

  “Except for you, of course,” she amended. “But I’ll know that I’m not special. I’m not the exception. I’ll know Axel Diaz only saw me as a distraction.”

  Gabe grasped her hand. “You’re not a distraction, sweetheart.” There was no teasing in his tone; it was only sincerity. “If you believe that, then you need serious brain surgery.”

  Brighton arched a brow. “Isn’t all brain surgery serious?”

  “Funny.” Gabe turned so that he was cross-legged on the couch. “You’re going to need your sense of humor for what I’m about to suggest, so I’m glad you still have it.”

  Since Gabe frequently had wild ideas, she was fully prepared to veto any of his suggestions.

  “Okay, let me get it all out before you say no.” Gabe’s look was stern. “We go to the game.” He held up his hand when Brighton opened her mouth to protest. “We take a baseball, and I approach him and ask him to sign it for my little brother.”

  “You don’t have a brother,” she said.

  “Shh!” Gabe narrowed his eyes. “He doesn’t have to know that, and if he finds out, we can all have a good laugh later. So back to the plan... you’re with me, of course, but you’re busy texting on your phone. Not paying me or Axel any attention, if you know what I mean.”

  “How is this any better—”

  “Wait for it,” Gabe said. “I’ll say, all casual-like, ‘Oh hey, Brighton, do you want Axel to sign anything?’ And you’ll look up from your phone as if you can’t figure out what I’m talking about. Then you say, ‘Um, I’m good.’”

  Brighton blinked. When Gabe didn’t continue, she said, “That’s it? That’s your master plan? I pretend that he doesn’t exist, then I say, ‘Um, I’m good’?”

  Gabe folded his arms. “It’s perfect. It gives him the chance to make the third move,
and if he doesn’t, you’ve made it clear you barely remember him and are far from heartbroken.”

  “I’m not heartbroken—”

  “See, perfect!”

  Brighton shook her head. “Maybe you could go to the game, do all the stuff you’re planning, then if Axel asks you about me, you say I couldn’t come. Depending on what he says next will determine if I contact him or not.”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “No.” Gabe pushed off the couch and stood. “That’s a weak move, and you know it. Don’t stoop to Leo’s level and be fake.”

  Brighton stood from the couch and glared at Gabe. “Your idea is just as fake.”

  “My idea is only a little fake, but mostly real.”

  Brighton turned away and closed her eyes. She needed to think. Logically. From all angles. The good, the bad, the ugly. Maybe Gabe was right. She’d regret not finding out if Axel Diaz was the real thing. Even if she had to put her pride on the line, it would only be a moment, right? It might also sting, but it would still be something to tell... who? Not her mom. Definitely not her kids or grandkids.

  “Okay,” she said, spinning around.

  Gabe’s mouth fell open. “Okay?”

  Brighton grinned. “Okay.”

  He pulled her into a hug.

  “Not too tight,” she said, gasping for air. “Or I’ll change my mind.”

  Gabe let her go so fast that she almost lost her balance. “Take me to your closet. We have some work to do.”

  CHAPTER 13

  The Seattle crowd cheered as Peyton Ross slid into second base on a two-base hit. The first runner on base all night, and they were already in the bottom of the fourth.

  Axel exhaled. Progress, albeit small.

  It was good to be home, and Axel hoped that his team would pull themselves out of their funk, in front of the home crowd at least. Three straight losses had taken its toll, and all the players were on edge.

  “Axe, you’re up!” Coach Kremer growled.

  Axel snatched his helmet and fitted it onto his head. Where had his mind been? He always hit third after Ross, second after Dice, which meant that Axel should be warming up in the batter’s box already. Axel grabbed his bat on the way out of the dugout, then took his practice swings, warming up his arms and wrists.

  He’d struck out in the first inning, but he wasn’t going to let it happen again. Especially against Redman, the current pitcher. It wasn’t that Axel hated the guy—he just severely disliked him. Pitchers who took cheap shots were never high on Axel’s list. He wanted to hit his way to a point, not be walked.

  “Come on, Dice,” Axe called to the batter at home plate. “You got this.”

  Axe doubted he could be heard over the heckling of the fans who were trying to distract both the pitcher and the catcher. Problem was, Dice, the centerfield from Argentina, was a bit of a prima donna, and... Yep. There it was.

  Dice stepped away from the plate and pointed to the fans and yelled something.

  Now everyone was really going crazy.

  Axel looked at the scoreboard. The Portland Royals had scored in the first inning, a single home run that had the Sharks fans booing. Still the same score. One to zip.

  “Ignore them, Dice!” Axel called. “Get Ross home!”

  Dice stepped into the batter’s box again and did his signature foot shift, followed by twitching his shoulders three times. Strike one. Strike two. Strike three.

  “Dammit,” Axel muttered, passing by the fuming Dice as the guy walked back to the dugout.

  Two outs. Ross still on second. Axel was up, ready or not.

  “I love you!” someone screamed. Axel didn’t even turn to look.

  “Where’s your axe?” another screamed. Could be a Sharks or Royals fan.

  Axel had heard it all, or at least enough. Once he stepped into the batter’s box, he tuned everything out. It was just him and the pitcher now. Axel had perfected his technique when he was in high school, and it had earned him MVP two years in a row. “Home Run Axe,” he’d been called.

  He wouldn’t mind setting some record in the major leagues, but he’d worry about that later. Right now, he’d focus on one pitch at a time. As far as he was concerned, there was no score, no runner on base, and no outs.

  Axel stretched his arms straight, then touched his gold chain with the tips of his left fingers. Now he was ready. He focused on the pitcher’s mitt, because the ball would soon follow. He emptied his mind of his mother’s worried eyes and his sister’s angry outburst that afternoon, when he’d confronted her about a vape pen his mom had found in her backpack, and finally he pushed away all thoughts of the woman he’d taken on a date in Belltown. The one with violet eyes, who hadn’t called or texted him. Turned out he had been blown off after all. Skeeter owed him fifty bucks.

  But here, now. None of that mattered. Only the moment when the pitcher sixty feet away released the ball and threw it straight at Axel.

  Swing.

  “Strike one!” the umpire crooned.

  “You have a two-hundred-dollar bat in your hands, do something with it!” Definitely a Royals fan. Or not.

  Axel straightened his arms, then touched his gold chain with his left fingers.

  The pitcher was stalling, and a bead of sweat made its way from Axel’s forehead to the edge of his chin.

  Redman’s eyes narrowed for a split second before he went into his windup. Axel relaxed his shoulders a fraction and began his swing early. He’d watched enough film on Redman to know what those narrowed eyes meant.

  Swing.

  Crack.

  Axel was already running before the crowd started to cheer. He didn’t need to watch the arc of the ball to know he’d hit it out of the park. He’d felt it. Axel jogged around the bases, getting satisfaction when Ross crossed home plate to hysterical cheers.

  There were still five innings to go, not time to celebrate yet. By the time he rounded home plate, the entire team and coaching staff had come out of the dugout to congratulate him. He pushed through the players and tugged off his helmet. Ricky was up next to bat, and Axel slapped him on the shoulder as he passed.

  “Get her done, Rick!” Axel said.

  The right fielder gave a mock salute and took his place in the batter’s box.

  The fourth inning ended with two more runs scored by the Sharks. Their luck had finally changed.

  The Sharks’ luck continued, and by the end of the ninth inning the score was six Sharks, two Royals. The Sharks fans had gotten their money’s worth tonight. Axel knew he wouldn’t be getting off the field any time soon, since he’d hit the opening home run. Sure enough, he’d barely gotten a drink when Coach Kremer called his name.

  “They’re waiting for you out there, Axe,” he said. “Give them what they want, huh?”

  “Sure thing, Coach,” Axel murmured and hustled out of the dugout.

  He kept his answers brief to the questions from the tall redhead female reporter who pointed a microphone in his face. When she finished, Axel turned to see the usual gaggle of kids with their baseballs to get signed.

  Someone handed him a Sharpie, and he was sure to ask each kid’s name before signing. It was the least he could do.

  “Can I get a picture with you, sir?” a kid who looked to be about ten years old asked.

  “No problem,” Axel said.

  The kid used his cell phone to take a selfie. Of course ten-year-olds all had phones now.

  Other players moved off the field, and Axel wished he could leave too. It had been a long and exhausting week, and there was still a pouting Silvia to deal with over the weekend. He’d promised his mom he’d spend some time with Silvia tomorrow. When the games were late like this, his mom watched them on television, since she didn’t like to drive at night anymore. Just one more thing to worry about with her.

  Axel signed another ball, then looked up to see how many other kids were waiting. He froze when he saw a man he recognized—Gabe—from Swift Airlines. And.
.. there she was. Brighton. Next to Gabe. They were crossing the field toward him.

  Brighton wasn’t looking at him. It seemed she was texting and walking, but then she glanced up.

  For a heartbeat, Axel saw her expression change. She looked down again, and he couldn’t be sure what he had or hadn’t seen.

  She wore black jeans and a Sharks T-shirt that looked as if it had been custom-made for her curves. Her hair was pulled off her neck, clipped into some sort of twist—similar to the style she wore with her airline uniform.

  “Excuse me,” he said, moving past the kids. “I’ll be right back.” He continued to walk, heading straight for Gabe and Brighton.

  Gabe smiled at Axel’s approach, but there was a bit of panic in his eyes too.

  What was going on?

  Brighton looked up from her phone and slowed her step so that Gabe was in front of her by the time Axel reached the two of them.

  “Hey, Axel,” Gabe said, holding out a baseball. “I was hoping you could sign this for my little brother—”

  “Hi, there,” Axel said, and patted him on the shoulder as he passed. “I’ll be with you in a minute.”

  “Okay, then...” Gabe’s voice trailed off.

  Axel continued toward Brighton. She’d lowered her hands, her texting streak apparently over. Her eyes widened slightly, and Axel stopped in front of her. Since the last time he saw her, in front of the hotel in Belltown, he’d told himself more than once that the night with her had been a fluke. He’d built it up in his mind too much. No woman could really affect him as she had.

  But seeing her again, in person, gazing at him with those bewitching violet eyes of hers, Axel knew it wasn’t a fluke.

  “Hey,” he said.

  The edges of her mouth lifted. “Hey.”

  “Is that your phone?” he asked, looking down at her hand.

  She lifted the phone, a question in her eyes. “Yes?”

  “Is it broken or something?”

  Her lips twitched. “Not that I know of.”

  Axel gave a slow nod and set his hands on his hips. “You just forgot to call me?”

  A faint pink color stained her cheeks, which only made her look more beautiful, dang it. She smelled like orange blossoms too. Dang it again.