Stealing Home(55)

I’d done my best to avoid him, but he’d done his best to thwart my plans. He never said anything—he just locked his eyes on mine for a moment—but that said everything he was trying to get across.

He wanted to talk. But there was nothing to talk about. I didn’t want to bring up what I’d found out from Shepherd because part of me had too much pride to admit that that was the reason I’d called it off. I wanted to be the first girl to cut him off before he got the chance. I wanted him to think I was done because I was done, not because of what I’d found out. I wanted to walk away with as much dignity as I could, because I didn’t feel like I had much.

I’d lost him. I was going to lose my job. I was close to losing my credibility.

I’d lost enough without adding in the last remnants of my pride.

“Hey, Allie, what gives?” Shepherd stopped in front of where I was settled on the bench. “Archer isn’t looking good out there. Might need to pull a late night. Make sure he’s all set to go for the next game.”

It was faint, but I didn’t miss the wink he gave me before wandering down to the other end of the dugout. My fists curled in so tightly, I could feel my nails close to drawing blood from my palms. The only perk to getting let go from my dream job at the end of the season would be not having to deal with Shepherd anymore.

“How’s it hangin’, Doc?” Reynolds crashed into the seat beside me, nudging me not-so-lightly. When he saw the look on my face, he snorted. “Sorry about that. Force of habit. How are you doing?” he corrected, trying to sound as eloquent as a big guy from Alabama could.

“I’m okay.”

Reynolds nodded, his eyes drifting toward the Shock player stepping up to the plate. “You know who isn’t okay?”

My shoulders fell when I saw Luke. His routine of tapping his cleats and eyeing the spot on the fence he wanted to sail the ball over had been replaced by slouching up to the plate with an expression that embodied withdrawn.

“Yeah, he’s had a rough game.” I had to look away. I’d spent enough time wondering if I was making the right decision just cutting him off without so much as having a conversation like a couple of adults.

“That’s not the okay I was talking about.” Reynolds threw me another not-so-gentle nudge. “What’s going on with you two?”

I glanced at him from the side. He met me with a raised brow. Fantastic. So the players were in on the secret too.

“Nothing’s going on with us two.”

“Yeah? Is that why you can’t look at him without looking like you’re either about to cry or curse?”

When a collective groan echoed through the dugout, I sighed. Strike one.

“Did he tell you?” I asked.

“Didn’t have to.” When I twisted in my seat to see what he meant, he added, “I could tell. I could see it when he looked at you. I could hear it when he talked about you.”

I held my breath as the pitcher wound up. “Did you know about the arrangement?”

“What arrangement?” He cursed when Archer’s bat swung around, connecting with air. Strike two. “Are you two ‘arranged’ to be married or something?” When he moved to nudge me again, I slid down the bench a little to ease the impact. “What arrangement?”

Reynolds didn’t know. Probably none of the players did, I thought. It wouldn’t go over well that the team had set aside a special someone for one player but none for the rest of them.

“Never mind.” My tone came out too biting. Reynolds didn’t miss it.

“Listen, Doc, if Archer did something to hurt you, I know it wasn’t on purpose.”

My hands curled around the front of the bench as the pitcher stared Archer down with smugness on his face—two strikes, zero balls. We all knew where this was likely going.

“I know he might seem kind of distant at first, removed when you meet him, but it’s because he’s Luke Archer. He’s careful because women look at him and see a windfall.” Reynolds leaned forward on the bench with the rest of the players as the pitcher wound up again. “Just do him right, okay? He’s been done wrong before. He’s one of the good ones.”

I was saved my response when the pitcher threw his third pitch. Archer’s bat moved like he was swinging through rock instead of air. The ball hissed into the catcher’s glove.

Strike three.




THE TEAM BUS was silent after the game. Other than the rumble of the engine and the whir of air conditioning, the loss had taken the words right out of the team.

I’d managed to avoid Luke in the locker room, busy tending to other players who needed to be taped and stretched, but every once in a while, I felt him watching me. It was a strange feeling and one I’d never felt before. It felt like someone was tapping on my shoulder, trying to get my attention, but when I turned around, no one was there. Like my mind had made up the whole thing, and then I’d find Luke watching me with that same look I’d seen a lot the past few days—like he was trying to figure out a way to save something that couldn’t be saved.

As was my new habit, I’d slid into the seat beside Reynolds for the ride back to the hotel. He looked like he was asleep, so I wouldn’t have to worry about him harassing me about Luke again.

The bus had just pulled away from the Pioneers’ stadium when I noticed someone coming down the aisle toward us. With the way Luke was looking at me, it was no mystery where he was heading.