Heavy Hitter (Dating Mr. Baseball Book 4)

by Lucy McConnell

  Ricky held up both palms. “Okay, okay. I’m starting to see your point.”

  Brock wanted the conversation to end, so he threw out, “I wasn’t cut out for the love ’em and leave ’em life.”

  “Ha! You live the love ’em and get left life.” Ricky smacked his hands together, pleased with his play on words.

  Not everything they discussed translated properly, but Brock got the gist of that. “Thanks. Thanks so much.”

  The long hallway ended in the front office lobby, where the Redrocks logo was laid out in mosaic tiles on the floor. They crossed to the receptionist’s desk, and Ricky explained what he needed. The papers were easily found, and he signed where the little sticky tabs indicated.

  The doors swung open and there was a loud bang, making the three of them jump. Brock turned to see Sheila and her assistant Ashley struggling with a long, tall box. It looked like they’d bought a big-screen TV.

  Sheila’s short, almost-white hair flipped up at the ends. A section fell into her eyes, and she blew it away, her lower lip poking out. There were those red lips again—tugging his attention. As she backed into the building, her foot that held the door open scooted and the package slipped. Sheila scrambled to maintain her hold on the box, which was bigger than she was.

  Before Brock knew what was happening, he stood behind her, his arms around her body and his hands under the cardboard. “I’ve got you,” he said in her ear, speaking low. His body woke up to the knowledge that he was holding this woman in his arms and she fit perfectly. Her back was warm against his chest—like she’d soaked up the sunshine and was sharing it with him. Her hair smelled like some exotic oil. Frankincense or jasmine or Madagascar. Was Madagascar an oil?

  “Thanks,” she whispered breathlessly.

  Her hair tickled his cheek. He could have stood there for the rest of his life.

  Ricky bounded through the door next to them and took the other side of the box away from Ashley, whose face was turning red. “I got it.” He pushed, and Brock and Sheila stepped back at the same time, finding a rhythm as if they were dancers on the ballroom floor.

  Brock enjoyed being in sync with her, feeling her curves shift against his muscles. He could have let her duck out, but he didn’t want to. And he didn’t want to think too hard about why he didn’t want to let her go.

  They managed to set the box behind the receptionist’s desk.

  Ricky brushed his palms together. “What’s in here?”

  “Halloween.” Sheila grinned. “Redrocks style.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. It didn’t stay, but it didn’t fall back over her eye either. Too bad. Brock kind of liked the disheveled look on her. “It’s promotional posters and Halloween bags to hand out at pop-ups.” Pop-ups were when a player appeared with a local radio or television personality somewhere in town. They usually drew in a nice crowd. “We’re raising a generation of Redrocks fans. Even if these kids don’t stay in St. George, they’ll take that loyalty with them and buy hoodies and socks with our logos for their kids.”

  “But it’s September,” Brock blurted.

  Sheila’s eyes sparkled. “I like to plan ahead. We’re already talking about Opening Day for next season upstairs.”

  Ashley nodded in agreement.

  Brock sighed. Upstairs as in front office makes a buck off the game strategy meetings. For a minute there, he’d forgotten that Sheila was part of the hustlers who, though necessary, rubbed him the wrong way. If a guy wanted to donate money to a charity, they wanted to post it on social media. If he stopped to talk to a few kids after the game, it was on a commercial within the week. “Everybody has an angle.”

  “Excuse me?” Sheila leaned closer, her finger behind her ear and a dash of attitude in the cock of her hips.

  Brock leaned into the challenge in her stance. “You can’t just hand the bags out to be nice. There’s some ulterior motive.”

  Sheila’s eyes widened. “Um. We are being nice. But I can’t justify spending our budget on candy bags unless there’s a return on the investment—even if it doesn’t happen for twenty years.”

  Ricky jumped between the two of them, facing Sheila. He was an inch shorter than Brock’s six feet, three inches, so Brock could see over his shoulder. What he could see over there was a woman growing hostile. “Please pardon my friend’s rudeness.” Ricky flashed his bright whites at the ladies, turning on his charm. “I put him in a bad mood before we got here.”

  Brock glared at the back of his head. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  Ashley flicked her fingers. “It’s fine. We’ve got thick skin.”

  Sheila harrumphed. She avoided his gaze. An uneasy feeling developed in the pit of his stomach at the idea that he’d made her angry, that there was something unpleasant between them.

  She folded her arms, and Brock felt like a real jerk for having questioned her motives. He was tired from practice and his filter wasn’t working right. “We’ll see you two later.” He headed back for the long hallway to the heavy double doors.

  Ricky said goodbye to the ladies with some pretty words. His comment to Brock wasn’t as nice. “You messed that up.”

  “Thank you, Captain Obvious.”

  “But on the bright side, we’re at the bottom of her list now. I doubt we’ll be handing out Halloween bags this year.”

  Brock half smiled. “Yeah.” The thing was, he didn’t mind doing the appearances—not like some of the other guys did. He had the time on his hands, and kids were great. He wanted a couple of his own one day. And he liked being the face of the Redrocks. He was proud of his team and what they were doing.

  His thoughts sank deeper into the mud of regret. It stuck to him and made his legs feel heavy. Sheila was a big part of those assignments and took pride in the community outreach program she’d designed. And he’d stepped all over it. He’d be lucky if she ever talked to him again.

  Chapter Three

  Sheila

  Sheila punched the elevator button for the second floor. “Can you believe that guy? Saying I’ve got an angle.” She shoved her sleeves up her arms.

  “Yeah, I can’t believe he brought that up. I mean, didn’t he see the giant chip you have on your shoulder?” Ashley replied.

  Sheila’s mouth fell open. “Hey!”

  Ashley barely managed to suppress her smile. It twitched at the corner of her lips, dying to get out. “I’ve worked with you for three seasons now. You push so hard, you put pile drivers to shame.” The elevator dinged and the doors opened. “If he had any idea, he would have kept his mouth shut.”

  Sheila stepped off the elevator. Her heels were stunning red to match her nails and her lips, but they’d almost cost her a sprained ankle. If Brock hadn’t stepped up and caught her, she’d be in the PT room with a bag of ice. She shivered, not at the thought of an ice pack but at the memory of Brock’s arms wrapped around her. He was warm and strong and smelled oh so nice. When he’d whispered in her ear, she’d turned into pudding.

  With a quick mental shake, she brought herself back to the present. The marketing offices were several doors down from the elevator, and she headed that way. “I have to be.” She lowered her voice so those in the offices they passed wouldn’t hear. “This is a boys’ club.” There was also her constant need to prove herself to her parents. But hey, she’d turned that into a positive thing, using it to further her career, so there was no need to dwell on that.

  “Well, they may have been testy, but at least they helped with the box.” Ashley turned in to the office first.

  “Chivalry in medieval form. You lift heavy things for damsels in distress and then insult the ladies.”

  Ashley snorted a laugh as she settled behind her desk.

  Sheila opened her email and stared at the screen. She would not think about how good Brock’s arms had felt wrapped around her, how the space they’d created seemed custom-made just for her. His chest was so strong, so firm at her back. He had the kind of body a girl could lean into when her dr
ive was running low.

  She’d been cocooned there just long enough to get a taste and start to rethink her desire to have a man in her life at the moment when he had to go and open his mouth. Did he have any idea of the intricacies of running a community outreach program? The sense of rejection when an event flopped? The work that went into each and every one of their public appearances? Of course not. He just showed up, waved his hat to the crowd, and then took off to his fabulous life. Well, he wouldn’t have to show up anytime soon. She’d rather eat scorpions than ask Brock for a special appearance.

  The monthly visit to the children’s wing of the hospital was coming up in a couple days. She needed to confirm with the assigned player before sending an email to the hospital to verify that they’d be there. Her older sister liked to show them around pediatrics. Sometimes—not every time they visited, but sometimes—Sheila got the feeling Kelly volunteered as tour guide to rub it in that she was a doctor and Sheila was not.

  It wasn’t like Sheila couldn’t have been a doctor. But that argument was in the past, where Sheila wanted it to stay.

  A few keystrokes had the volunteer list up on her screen. With a groan, she sent it away again. Brock was scheduled for the hospital tour this Wednesday. That was just great. Her overbearing older sister and the guy who thought her job was as crooked as a used car salesman would be in the same room. Peachy.

  Chapter Four

  Brock

  The hospital doors whooshed open, hitting Brock with the scent of cleaner and new paint. He scanned the entrance, looking for a familiar face, or at least someone who was looking for him. Usually Sheila or Ashley was around, ready to usher him to his spot and tell him when to smile for the camera.

  The hospital was decorated in muted shades of cream and blue. There were probably studies done on calming colors for patients, but it all just seemed kind of depressing—like life wasn’t fully lived within these walls.

  He veered right when he saw Sheila chatting with Julia, the social media guru from marketing, in the waiting area. Sheila wore a pair of tight jeans and a V-neck Redrocks shirt. She also had on a ball hat, her short, white hair flipping out in the back and strands framing her face. That was not how a guy was supposed to wear a ball hat, but it was exactly how a woman was supposed to wear one. In fact, she wore it so well, she might have been the reason ball hats were invented. He was mesmerized by the way the rim shadowed her eyes. It gave him the feeling she was checking him out from under that brim, even though that was ridiculous. If anything, she was glaring daggers for what he’d said to her the other day.

  He really didn’t mean to insult her with his comment about angles. Everyone in the business had an angle. His agent was probably working twenty right at that moment. It had just surprised him that someone so sweet-looking, with soft brown eyes and charming red lips, wasn’t as innocent as she first appeared. There was a sharp mind behind that sweet face, making her all the more interesting and hard to forget. He had thought about her at least once an hour, probably more, since holding her close. If he wasn’t careful, he’d lose his focus on the game.

  Julia noticed him first. Her dark eyebrows climbed her tall forehead and disappeared beneath heavy bangs. At first, the contrast between her strawberry blond hair and her nearly black brows had shocked him. But she was everywhere at the stadium, and he hardly thought about it anymore.

  She grinned and pulled up her phone, no doubt taking several pictures of him in the lobby. “Don’t worry,” she assured, “I’m not posting these until after the event. We don’t want to swarm the hospital with your adoring fans.”

  Sheila snorted delicately and then quickly tried to cover it up by clearing her throat.

  He mentally sighed. On the outside, he smiled politely. She gave him an equally distant smirk in return. So that was how it was going to be.

  “We should get going. We’re going to pediatrics.” She reached behind a set of chairs and wheeled out a red sports wagon full of merchandise. “Here.” She handed him three black sharpies. “Don’t lose those. They’re all I have for today.”

  Right. Because he couldn’t hang on to a few pens. He tucked them into his back pocket. “I’ll be careful.”

  Her lips formed a straight line, and she flipped forward, ignoring him.

  Brock lengthened his stride so he was right alongside her—just to burrow further under her skin. Why? He had no idea. He was going on instinct here.

  “I hope some parents are here to sign release forms.” Julia patted her purse. “It’s so frustrating when I can’t use pictures.”

  Brock gave Sheila a pointed look and mouthed the word “angle.”

  Sheila glared ahead.

  He wasn’t sure why he was pushing her buttons, except that it got her attention. They rode the elevator to the fifth floor, and Sheila talked to the security guard, getting them clearance and badges for the afternoon.

  “Sheila!” A tall doctor with golden-blond hair pulled back in a braid hurried down the hall towards them.

  “Kelly.” Sheila smiled, opening her arms for a hug. It was a hug for someone close, but Sheila didn’t pull her in tight.

  Did she keep everyone at arm’s length? The question that popped up right after that was, why? What had happened to her that she couldn’t let people in?

  Brock puffed out air, frustrated with himself for reading so much into a brief exchange and for caring at all about Sheila and what may or may not have happened to her. He needed to finish out the season and concentrate on fixing up his house.

  “It’s Doctor Weaver around here,” Kelly scolded lightly before twittering a laugh.

  Sheila drew in a breath through her nose as if she were trying to keep her calm. They began to chat about “Mom” and “Aunt Jenny” and the upcoming holidays.

  Sister. That made sense. They had the same shape of eyes, same full lips. Kelly was two inches taller than Sheila. He wondered what kind of doctor she was and if they gave her time off to eat, because she was so thin she’d be pokey to cuddle.

  Julia took several candid photos of the two of them.

  Finally, Sheila motioned towards Brock. “This is Brock Mattock, the center fielder for the Redrocks. And this is Julia, out social media specialist.”

  Sheila said specialist instead of guru. It sounded better. She had a knack for making things sound good, even him. Her introduction had a hint of pride to it, like she was proud of what he did for the team out there in center field. He lifted his chest. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Weaver.”

  “Thanks.” She took his proffered hand, holding it for a tad longer than was comfortable. “I just finished rounds, so I have a few minutes to show you around.”

  Sheila swatted her hand through the air. “You don’t have to do that. I’ve been here enough that I know the route.”

  “Nonsense. It will be my pleasure.” She took Sheila by the arm and bent her head close, whispering and glancing over her shoulder at Brock.

  Sheila stiffened and lifted her chin. She shook her head emphatically, and Dr. Weaver’s grin spread.

  Julia nudged him with her elbow. “Someone’s got an admirer.”

  Julia was much too interested in his reaction for him to be comfortable. It made him feel like a steak, and she was a hungry animal waiting to devour his story and spit it out for her followers.

  “You think?” He stared at Sheila’s back. She didn’t give off any inviting vibes.

  “Oh yeah, the doc is totally into you.”

  He blinked and shifted his gaze to Sheila’s sister, who was glancing over her shoulder. When their eyes met, she ducked her head.

  Huh. He suddenly felt like his arms were too long and his neck was tight.

  Dr. Weaver showed them into the first room. She waved her hand over the ten-year-old in the bed, his leg in a long red cast and his eyes glued to the television screen, where he battled aliens. “This is Brady. He broke his femur while skateboarding.”

  The three visitors cringed in u
nison. Julia looked around. When she didn’t find an adult in the room, she slowly lowered her phone with a frown. Brock smothered his grin. Julia’s angle was easy to spot.

  Dr. Weaver grabbed a controller and paused the game.

  “Hey!” Brady whined.

  Sheila shook her head at her sister in disappointment.

  How Brock knew she was disappointed, he wasn’t sure. Her face surely didn’t show it. Neither did the slant of her shoulders, which were confident and sure. It was something else, something in her eyes, that rebelled at her older sister making the decision for Brady to pause the game instead of asking him to do it.

  “Brady, this is Brock. He plays for the Redrocks,” Dr. Weaver introduced him.

  Brady’s mouth fell open. “No way.”

  “Way,” Brock countered. He pushed past the ladies to the bedside and sat down on the edge of the bed. Pediatrics was brighter than the rest of the hospital. The wall behind Brady’s head was bright blue, and there were rainbows and butterflies painted on the ceiling tiles. He also had a Star Wars blanket draped over his good leg.

  Kelly put her hand on Brock’s shoulder blade and leaned over him to talk to Brady. She smelled of hand sanitizer and fruity flowers—a combination that made his nose tickle. “You’re so lucky he had time to come see you today.”

  Brock shifted slightly. “Actually, I’m the lucky one.” He shared a fist bump with Brady. “So, how are you going to milk this to get out of school?” he joked.

  Brady’s face lit up. “I could be out until Halloween.”

  “Halloween, huh? And be back on your feet to trick-or-treat. Nice.” They shared another fist bump.

  “Brady?” Sheila’s smile was warm and inviting. Man, she was good. If he didn’t know this was all about gaining new fans and solidifying loyalty, he’d think she actually cared about these kids. “Would you like to pick something for Brock to sign for you?” She brought the wagon closer to the bed. “We’ve got baseballs, posters, maybe a tee shirt.” She held up a teddy bear. “I don’t think you want this, do you?” She made a sour face.