Dan Alexander, Pitcher Page 13
Panic at his lack of control only made things worse. Dan walked the first batter in the bottom of the fifth.
Cal Crawley headed for the mound. “What’s up, Dan?”
“I don’t know. Having an off day.”
“Can you handle this inning? I’ve got Sanderson warming up.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m okay.”
Crawley returned to the dugout. While his reassurance to the coach sounded convincing, Dan didn’t believe it. He gave himself a little pep talk before the next pitch. It was a strike. But the next two were balls, walking the batter.
Matt went out to the mound. “What the fuck?”
“Slider’s not working.”
“Nothing is fucking working,” Matt said, hiding his mouth with his glove so the camera wouldn’t pick up his words.
“Try something else.”
“Change up?”
Dan nodded, and Matt trotted back to the plate. It was no use. Dan had lost it. He gave up a double and walked another batter. Cal Crawley emerged from the dugout, heading for the pitching mound. Dan’s time was up.
“That’s it, Dan. Not happening for you today.” Crawley gave the pitcher a pat, and Dan headed for shade and the comfort of his teammates. He drank two bottles of water and plopped down on the bench. Anger at himself bubbled up inside, heating his face and souring his disposition.
Bart Carozzi, pinch runner, slid down the long, wooden seat next to the pitcher. “You let pussy get in the way of your game.”
Dan sat in silence.
“That Hot Dog Chick fucked with your head. You gotta get over her, man.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Dan said, throwing a venomous glance at his teammate.
Bart raised his hands. “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. I’m just telling you like it is.”
“Who asked you?” Dan pushed to his feet and moved closer to the coach.
Chapter Ten
Holly’s hands trembled as she slipped on her uniform. The team was back and playing a game at noon. It was eleven, and she was late. Today was the day she’d tell Dan the truth about her situation. Pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, she ran different scenarios through her mind. None of them calmed her rapidly beating heart.
“Good luck,” Nancy said, giving the girl a hug at the front door.
“Thanks. I’ll need it.”
Holly practically ran to the stadium. She loaded up her cart quickly and took her place near first base. She glanced in the ’Hawk’s dugout, but looked away quickly. Dan was there, and she wasn’t ready to make eye contact yet.
The men came out for the national anthem. Dan threw her a sharp scowl then looked away. Her heart rate increased, if that was possible. Shit! He’s mad at me. Of course, not returning his dozen phone calls and messages might make him a little pissed. She took a deep breath and stood with her hand over her heart. Her mind shifted into overdrive, and she couldn’t even remember the lyrics.
When it was over, she stared at the pitcher and smiled, but he didn’t look her way. Tension spiraled inside her. Maybe he won’t even care? New, negative thoughts swirled through her brain.
“Hot dogs, get yer hot dogs!” she called out, as if on automatic pilot.
Julio Suarez was the starting pitcher for the ’Hawks. Holly couldn’t focus on the game. It passed in a haze. So preoccupied with her impending conversation with Dan, she didn’t sell many dogs.
“Hey, lady!”
Holly turned around.
“You sellin’ dogs or watchin’ the game? I been calling you for half an hour.”
Holly apologized and scurried over to fill his order. As she handed over the fourth hot dog, the crowd cheered. She turned in time to see Jake Lawrence’s hit soar into the stands for a home run. Skip and Nat waited for him at home plate. The men did high fives, Jake doffed his cap, and they sat down.
The Nighthawks won, five to three. Holly deposited her cart at the concession stand and stood back, letting the fans stream out of the stadium.
She approached Bud. “Can you go in the locker room and ask Dan to wait for me?”
“Sure.”
Bud snaked his way through the crowd while Holly hit the ladies’ room. She washed her face and put on fresh makeup. The tremble in her hand kept her from applying mascara. The most important thing on her mind was making Dan understand. She knew now that Flash Kincaid had been a bad choice. She’d made a lot of them in her life.
She’d already taken a different path—one that she hoped would include Dan. There were a million reasons for him to run like Hell from a girl like her. She mouthed a prayer, hoping he’d stay. After brushing off her shirt and reapplying lipstick, she marched down the now empty hall toward the locker room.
Bud was waiting for her. “He’s coming. Don’t leave.”
“Thanks, Bud. I owe you.”
“Forget it. Just don’t break his heart, okay?”
“I promise.”
Several players came out first. They greeted her politely, but that was all. Their reserve scared her. Something was going on, and she didn’t have a clue.
Finally, Dan came out. He stopped, made eye contact, but didn’t smile. “What do you want?”
“I need to talk to you.”
“Now? After a hundred unanswered phone calls, you want to talk now?”
“It wasn’t a hundred.”
“Seemed like it.”
Even angry, he was so handsome. She wanted to kiss him, touch him, but he remained out of reach. “I’m sorry. It’s just that what I have to say really couldn’t be said over the phone.”
His face reddened slightly. “Oh? Really? Let me guess,” he said, resting one hand on his hip. “You’ve met someone. A guy. And he doesn’t travel, and it’s fated, meant to be…”
“What are you talking about?”
He stopped, pressing his lips into a firm line.
“I don’t understand. That’s nothing like what I have to tell you.”
“You want me to believe you didn’t meet someone else?” He shifted his weight.
“That’s right. I didn’t. Why would you think that?”
“Because of a hundred calls not returned. Why else wouldn’t you call back? Too busy in the sack with someone else, maybe?”
Now it was her turn to be angry. Tears burned. “Why, you bastard! What a terrible thing to say. No. I did not meet anyone else. No, that wasn’t the reason I avoided your calls. I’m not that type of girl.” Disappointment fought with anger in her chest. She didn’t know whether to slap him or walk away, so she took the less violent route, turning on her heel. Perhaps she’d not have to face telling him the truth after all. Water filled her eyes, so she picked up her pace.
He was right behind her. “You mean you’re not kissing me off?”
“I hadn’t planned to. But now, I am.”
“You haven’t met someone else?” He met her, stride for stride, then closed his fingers around her arm. “Wait! Wait. Talk to me.”
She faced him. “Why should I? You have it all worked out. I suppose you even have the words you thought I’d say.”
At that, his face turned red.
“Oh my God. You did!” Her hand covered her mouth as she blinked back tears.
“I’m sorry. Why else wouldn’t you accept my calls or call me back?”
“Maybe, if you’d let me explain first…”
“Okay. Okay. Go ahead.” He let go of her.
“I…I can’t do that here.”
“My place?”
She nodded.
“Come on.” He guided her to his car and opened the door.
Backing out wasn’t an option now. She had to face him and tell the truth. Her pulse kicked up, and her heart beat out of her chest as they neared his building.
“Coffee?”
“Thanks.” As Dan loaded the coffeemaker, Holly wandered over to the huge windows and gazed out. Her knees trembled, and her stomach clenched.
“Sorry, I don’t have any
food,” he said, as the aroma of brewing coffee filled the room.
“That’s okay. I’m not hungry anyway.” Holly returned to the kitchen and took mugs down from the cabinet. Once everything was poured, sugared, and milk added, she took a seat opposite him.
His hazel eyes met hers. They reflected curiosity and wariness.
She reached over and slipped her hand in his. “This is a little hard to say. Please don’t judge me until I finish. Several years ago, I met a guy at a club in the meat packing district,” she began.
As she spoke, Dan closed both of his hands around hers. Every time she looked at him, his eyes were on her. His gaze rested on her face, then went to their clasped hands, then back to her face.
His brow knit. “So, that’s why you didn’t tell me about yourself?”
“Right. If you want to walk away, I’ll understand.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Why wouldn’t you?” She swallowed.
“Because you’re an amazing woman. Smart. Beautiful. One-of-a-kind.”
“I was naïve. I didn’t know what Flash was doing, or I never would’ve been with him.”
“I believe you.”
“You do?” She raised her eyebrows.
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
At his words, fear that had gathered in her chest melted.
“His trial is in three weeks. Tomorrow, I’m calling the D.A. and turning myself in, but I won’t meet with them until the day before. After that, I’ll go into witness protection again. Hope it works this time.”
Silence hung heavy in the air.
Dan glanced down at their hands. “You don’t go back for three weeks?”
“Right.”
“Stay here.” His gaze rose to meet hers.
“What?” She doubted she’d heard right.
“Move in with me. Please.”
“That’s pretty crazy, isn’t it? Doesn’t any of this bother you?”
“So, you picked the wrong guy. You didn’t do anything bad. It’s not like you broke the law. Everyone makes mistakes. Yours was just a whole lot bigger than most. You’ll be safe here. No one’ll know where you are. I want you with me.”
“We haven’t been dating long. Are you sure?”
“Let’s see what we have together.”
The heaviness lifted from her heart. “After the trial, I have to disappear. At least until sentencing.”
“Okay.”
“I don’t know how long that’ll be.”
“We’ll manage.” Dan’s thumb stroked the back of her hand.
“I might not even be able to talk to you during that time.”
“It’ll be a test.”
“What if we don’t make it?” she asked.
He quirked an eyebrow. “And what if we do?”
* * * *
It didn’t take Holly long to pack her few belongings, say a tearful farewell to the Magees, and be nestled comfortably in Dan’s luxurious car. Three weeks living with him were more than she had dared to dream. Was it Christmas? She’d received the biggest gift of her life. She agreed to keep her job at the stadium because Bud would have a hard time finding a replacement on such short notice.
Their first night together, Dan took her to dinner. A little mom-and-pop, Italian restaurant, Trieste, was located around the corner. Their table had a black-and-white checked tablecloth with a wine bottle sporting a candle in the center. The waiter lit the candle when he seated them. Soft, romantic, classical music played in the background.
Dan ordered a bottle of chianti and sat back. “I swear I’ve eaten everything on the menu, and they’re all great.”
She searched the short list and found her favorite.
“Everything here is homemade. The cook, Marta, is the owner’s wife. She’s great.”
Holly ordered the ravioli, and Dan, the lasagna. They held hands across the table as they waited for their food. The waiter, Gus, grinned at them and wiggled his eyebrows.
Dan laughed. “He’s a little obvious, isn’t he?”
“You might say that,” Holly replied with a smile.
His stare heated her insides. He raised her hand to his lips. “Tonight is the first night of the rest of our lives…” he began.
“Like nothing before ever happened,” she finished.
The food arrived. The gentle aroma of garlic mixed with parmesan cheese. Each bite melted in Holly’s mouth.
“This is the best Italian food I’ve ever eaten,” she said.
“Even on Park Avenue?”
She chuckled. “Even on Park Avenue.”
“What will you do on days when there’s no game? I go in most off-days to practice. But you’ll have free time,” he asked, stabbing a piece of lettuce from his salad.
“I don’t know. When I was in the program, I lived in Pine Grove, a small town upstate. I worked for Laura Dailey. She ran a little bakery business from her home.”
“You bake?” His eye lit up.
“A little. Laura taught me a lot, but I’m still a beginner.”
“You’re welcome to practice on me,” he said, grinning.
“Actually, it’s the one thing I wasn’t bad at.”
“You sell a mean hot dog. Bud told me you broke all records for most sales. He’s upset to lose you.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Nope. That’s what he said. You’re leading in hot dog sales, far more than anyone else.”
She laughed. “Damn! I’m finally the best at something. Wouldn’t that just kill my father. I can see the headlines now, ‘Holly Merrill, Hot Dog Girl, Number One Seller.’ And he said I’d never be a success at anything.”
“I guess he was wrong.”
She choked on the emotion in her throat and blinked back a few tears.
Dan leaned over and kissed her. “On so many levels,” the pitcher said.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
The couple split a piece of Italian cheesecake. Then, Dan paid the bill, and they left, walking hand-in-hand down the street, heading for his building.
The sensation of going home flowed through Holly. But I’m not. It’s not my home. I’m only staying there, temporarily. The reality-check brought a frown to her lips.
“You okay?” he asked.
She nodded. Fear of expectations kept her from letting go. Still, she was unable to keep fantasies from running away with her heart. All her life, she’d been let down by hoping for things that could never be, and this situation was the same. A famous man like Dan Alexander wouldn’t want to end up with a loser like her. She didn’t have a talent, a profession, or even a home. Her college degree in English meant she’d read some good books and written papers about them, but that’s all.
He eased her closer and slid his arm around her shoulders. “You look like you’re going to the electric chair.”
“Really? I’m sorry. I don’t mean to.”
He stopped and drew her into his embrace for a long kiss. “I’ve waited weeks to be walking you back to my place,” he said softly. “And now, you won’t be leaving.”
“I will in three weeks.”
“Hey, let me have my fantasies, will ya?”
As they strolled down the street, the only sounds were the honking of car horns and the click click of Holly’s heels on the pavement.
* * * *
At seven in the morning, Holly dressed and tiptoed out of the house. Since he wasn’t due at practice until ten, Dan was still sleeping. She was anxious to keep up her baking education. She’d recorded Baking with Bess on cable TV. The young woman planned to learn everything she could from Bess during her time living with Dan. Maybe the witness protection people would place her as a bakery apprentice? Her fingers were crossed.
She bought supplies with her own money and hauled home flour, sugar, butter, spices, and apples. Bess’s program was titled “Apple Pie to Die For.” She unpacked the grocery bag and switched on the television.
After setting
up her ingredients then the bowl and pan in the kitchen, she headed back to the living room to watch Bess’s instruction. Back and forth, back and forth, she went. When the show was over, she returned to the counter, cut the dough for the lattice crust, and put the pie in the oven.
She set the timer and put up a second pot of coffee. The aroma of cooking apples, blended with cinnamon and coffee, wafted through the apartment. Within five minutes, a sleepy-eyed Dan, wearing only boxers, stumbled into the kitchen.
“What do I smell?”
“Coffee? Apple pie?” She took down two mugs.
“Apple pie?”
“Yep.”
“Isn’t it a little early for apple pie?”
“Nope. Never too early,” she said, leaning over to check the timer. “Only twenty minutes left. Then, it has to cool.”
“Can I have some for breakfast?”
“Sure.”
He came up behind her, pressing against her rear end. His arms wound around her, and his fingers squeezed her breasts. He nuzzled her neck. “Apple pie and love for breakfast,” he murmured.
Holly’s eyes drifted shut as she leaned back, braced by his body. He was almost a foot taller than she and provided a steady backstop.
“How much time do we have before it’s ready to eat?”
“Hmm.” She forced herself to concentrate. “Fifteen minutes to cook and maybe the same to cool? I don’t know. This is my first time.”
He snickered. “Your first time doing it in this kitchen too.” He lifted her dress up over her head and tossed it on a chair then slid her panties down. Grabbing her under her arms, he hoisted her butt up on the counter.
Holly’s eyes widened, and a giggle escaped her throat.
Dan pushed his boxers down. “Take the bra off,” he said.
She reached around behind to unfasten it.
“No, wait. Let me.”
With one hand, he flipped it open. It landed on the floor. His stare heated her skin. Raising her gaze, she met his head on, and passion ignited in her body.