Heavy Hitter (Dating Mr. Baseball Book 4)

by Lucy McConnell

  “Well, hello there.” Kelly slid her hand around Brock’s arm, coming from behind and taking him off guard. “I thought that was you,” she purred.

  Brock’s eyes went to her dark eyebrows briefly. He shook his head, extracting his arm from Kelly’s caress. “It’s good to see you again.” He placed both hands on the cart handle and started walking.

  Instead of taking the hint, Kelly fell into step beside him. He headed for the bakery, needing hamburger buns for his cookout. Since Sheila wasn’t coming over, he’d invited Heath and Brian Tuttle, the left fielder. The flooring was done. He’d start the railing tomorrow.

  She glanced over the items in his cart. “Total guy food,” she teased.

  “Chick food.” He pointed to the cheese with a name he couldn’t pronounce and crackers with seeds on them in the basket looped over her arm.

  She lifted a shoulder. “My mom loves this stuff. I’m headed to her house for dinner and thought I’d surprise her.” She stepped closer to him, the scent of hand sanitizer mixed with her light perfume making his nose tingle.

  “Brock?” Sheila’s cart banged into his with a clatter.

  Brock’s chest grew warm at the sight of her. “Sheila?” he breathed.

  “Kelly.” Sheila looked back and forth between them. “What’s going on?”

  Kelly turned her body towards Sheila. Brock had the weird thought of a female cat turning on a threat. “We were just shopping.”

  “Whoa.” Brock held up his hands. “She was shopping and I was shopping, but we weren’t shopping together.”

  Kelly laughed and swatted at his arm. “You’re so cute when you’re flustered.”

  He wasn’t flustered. He was track-a-pop-fly focused on the horror written all over Sheila’s face.

  Before he could reassure her that he wasn’t here with Kelly, that there was nothing going on with Kelly, Kelly jumped in. “I was just about to invite Brock to dinner tonight.” She hooked his bicep with her cold fingers. “My parents would love to meet you. They’re huge Redrocks fans.”

  “Are you going?” he asked Sheila.

  She swallowed heavily. “Yep. I’m taking potato salad.”

  Kelly huffed. “Mom hates that stuff.”

  “Dad asked me to bring it,” Sheila replied through clenched teeth.

  “Only because I know it’s not good for him and Mom will throw it out as soon as dinner is over. He went for the weak link.”

  “At least he’ll get to enjoy it tonight.”

  Brock grabbed the closest bag of buns and tossed them into the cart. “I’m not going to be able to make it. I have a couple of the guys coming over for a barbecue.”

  Kelly pouted. “That’s too bad. Sheila’s bringing Greg, and I didn’t want to sit alone.”

  His head whipped around so fast the lights blurred. “What?”

  Sheila glared at Kelly. “I’m not taking Greg. He’s having dinner with the owner tonight.”

  Brock grunted. That wasn’t the answer he was looking for. “So you’d take him if he wasn’t?”

  She bent her leg and tapped her toes repeatedly. “Probably. He’s my responsibility for the week, so I’d have to take him.”

  Kelly shoved Sheila’s shoulder. “Don’t act all put out. He’s totally hot, and you know it.”

  Sheila rolled her eyes. “He’s a client. Nothing more.”

  “Pft.” Kelly clearly didn’t believe her sister.

  Brock wanted to believe her. The truth was, they weren’t exclusive. One amazing kiss and a thousand texts did not make Sheila his girlfriend. She was free to date whoever she chose.

  He just wanted her to choose him.

  Kelly ran a hand down his arm. She wasn’t helping.

  “Okay, it was nice to see you both again. I’m going to go that way.” He pointed to the end of the aisle and took off, not wanting to be in the middle of the sisters and not wanting to cause a scene. They were like two ends of jumper cables—firing sparks and threatening to singe anyone who came between them.

  He was almost to the checkout when Sheila caught up with him. Her cart moved almost soundlessly as all its wheels worked perfectly. He let out a breath, thankful her sister wasn’t right behind her.

  “Look,” she started, and her abrupt tone smacked him. “Clearly there’s been some mixed signals, or perhaps not strong enough ones, because Kelly’s under the impression the two of you are starting a relationship. If you want to date Kelly, that’s fine, but you can’t date us both.”

  He scoffed, because her assumption was so crazy. And because she was the one seeing Greg every night of the week when she couldn’t pull together fifteen minutes to come see his deck. “Like you’re one to talk about signals.”

  “Excuse me?” She planted a hand on her sweet little hip.

  “You’ve been dating Greg.”

  Her mouth fell open and then snapped shut. She lifted herself on her toes, gaining height. “Kelly’s successful and pretty and a great catch, so I’ll make this decision easy for you—I’m stepping out.” She threw both hands up, palms forward.

  “Sounds like you have yourself a great guy—don’t let me get in the way.”

  Her eyebrows lowered. “Fine.”

  “Fine!” He gripped the cart handle.

  Sheila glared, turned her cart the other direction, and stormed off.

  The minute she was out of sight, Brock’s body sagged. All he wanted to do was buy steaks and burgers for the barbecue, and somehow, he’d lost his chance with the girl who made him feel like Captain America. He slammed his palm on the handle and made his way to checkout. What did he need Sheila and her drama for, anyway?

  Because she makes each day a little sweeter than the last. We laugh together—which is big. And she’s the best thing in my life.

  Stupid heart. It needed to shut up and know its place.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Brock

  Saturday was an awful day to go to the home improvement store. The place was crawling with homeowners pushing carts that were too heavy while frustrated that they’d forgotten the one screw or bolt, or were three pavers short of a load. It was a recipe for disaster. Which was why Brock was in the stadium parking lot instead of working on the deck railing.

  He really should be home working on the railing.

  Except he couldn’t seem to stay away from the mascot contest, and his car practically drove itself to the Redrocks’ home.

  He wasn’t here to see Sheila. He was here to find out who advanced to the next round. Because, like it or not, he had a stake in how the contest turned out. Yes, that was why he was there. Not because he knew Sheila was inside, running around and getting things done. And not because it had been a week since they’d kissed and three days since they’d chewed each other out and he couldn’t get either event out of his head.

  The kiss always came first. He’d walk into the sunshine, and in the split second it took for his eyes to adjust, he’d compare the warmth on his skin to the warmth she created inside of him when she ran her hands up his chest and around his neck. When he closed his eyes at night, his lips felt the soft weight of hers. And now anything that smelled like leather also brought up the memory, because they’d been in the locker room and there was a new mitt in someone’s locker. Although he hadn’t paid attention to it that day. He hadn’t noticed anything but her.

  Following the quick memories and blissful moments came the shattering word. Fine! It would forever echo in his head as a goodbye. He vowed he’d never say the word again. If anyone asked, he was great, good, amazing.

  He scanned the lines of people streaming through the gates and decided to go in through the players’ entrance. Ralf, the security guard, waved him through with hardly a glance. He was a tall man who stooped constantly. His bent back could have been from age or from bending over to be a part of conversations. Brock had had that trouble growing up. He was always a head and a half taller than his friends, but his dad wouldn’t stand for slouching. Mattocks had t
o stand tall.

  He parked and ducked into the building, avoiding the locker room at all costs. Weaving through the labyrinth of hallways and staircases, he finally made it to the top of the bottom tier of seats. Seating was first come, first served, so he made his way down the section above the dugout.

  Juan was doing commentary for the contest today. He looked like he’d had a lot of sun and a lot of fun taking his daughters on their dream princess vacation. Then again, Juan always looked like he was having a good time.

  “Yo, check. Check. Mic check. Check it, bro.” Juan grinned and fist-bumped the intern as he listened to his own voice over the loud speakers. “Hey. Hey, St. George!” He threw his arms above his head. The crowd yelled back, loving his enthusiasm.

  Brock held back his laugh. Whoever thought handing Juan a microphone was a good idea was about to be fired. The dude didn’t know when to shut up.

  Juan ran to the edge of the home-team dugout. “We’re gonna do the wave, starting right here. Don’t get ahead of me. Don’t do it. You lift when I run by.” His white teeth stood out against his olive skin and dark hair.

  Judging by the way the crowd lifted out of their seats as Juan ran in front of them, they were having fun too.

  “Brock?”

  Brock’s shoulders inched up to his ears at the sound of Kelly’s voice. He turned slowly, hoping she’d evaporate before he faced her. No such luck. “Kelly. How was dinner with the family?”

  She smiled and hugged him. He patted her back once and then stepped back. She stumbled a little, being on a step higher than him, but she let him go. “It was good. Mom loved the crackers, and Dad loved the potato salad.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “You need to meet them. They’d be ecstatic. You’re their favorite third baseman. They’re just right down there.”

  Brock bit his tongue to keep from correcting her. Center field was a long way from third base, but she wasn’t a baseball fan, so how would she know? Besides, it didn’t matter what she thought, because he wasn’t going to see her after today. He put on his polite smile and followed her down to greet her parents. He was curious about the couple who had raised these two strong and independent women.

  Kelly made introductions, and he shook Lisa’s and Michael’s hands. Sheila had her mom’s height and her dad’s eyes.

  Michael pulled the bottom of the chair next to him down. “Have a seat.”

  “I really should get going.” Brock hooked his thumb over his shoulder as if he had a job today and wasn’t loafing around the park.

  “Stay for a minute. I’ll go grab us some Cokes.” Kelly about shoved him into the chair.

  He landed with a grunt. Though he may have grunted more from displeasure than from the physical discomfort of being pushed down.

  Lisa leaned across Michael to talk to him. “We’re so happy to finally meet you, Brock. You’re all Kelly talks about these days.”

  The words were like a bucket of cold water making him suck in his stomach and clench his teeth. “That’s nice of her. I’m glad she’s my friend.”

  Both parents paused a beat. Michael put his hand on Lisa’s knee as if holding her back from saying what she was thinking. Lisa leveled him with a look only a longtime wife could accomplish. He patted her leg and chuckled. “I’d like something to drink too, if you wouldn’t mind, sweetheart?”

  “Then go get it.” Lisa folded her arms.

  “I would, but my knee is bothering me.” He smiled amiably.

  She gathered herself and stood. “Knee, my foot,” she grumbled as she inched past the two men and their knees. Brock turned to the side to let her through. He had the feeling that he’d gotten off easy just having Michael around.

  They sat for a few minutes in silence. Juan laughed into the mic as the first act left the stage. “Man, that was legit! Did you all see that?”

  The roar of the crowd was his answer.

  “Listen,” Brock started when the silence was too heavy to be comfortable. “I’m sorry, but I’m not into Kelly. She’s a lovely person and I’d like to be her friend.”

  “Well.” Michael shifted in his seat, kicking one leg out. “That’s the thing with Kelly. She sets her heart on something and she won’t be dissuaded.”

  “Was that how she was about Sheila going to med school?” Pieces were falling into place. Sheila’s backing out when she thought he was seeing both her and Kelly. Why would she risk her relationship with her sister over some guy? Especially if Kelly was a pit bull. Sheila was determined and aggressive, but she knew when to back off—probably because she’d been doing it her whole life to keep the peace in the family. It made him mad. Why should Sheila have to go without because Kelly was a bully?

  Michael rubbed his nose. “She was. It was awful—almost split the family when Sheila decided to follow a different path.”

  Brock bounced his knee. He had a whole lot to say on that subject. “It’s a good thing she did. I don’t think the Redrocks would be what they are today if it wasn’t for Sheila.”

  “We’re proud of her.”

  “Have you told her?”

  Michael cleared his throat in a that’s-none-of-your-business way.

  “I’m just saying. Sheila had a right to follow her heart, and if someone threw a fit about that, it’s not her fault. I wouldn’t have wanted to live with a sibling who wanted to run my life. As far as I’m concerned, Sheila is the better person. She had every right to walk away from Kelly, and she didn’t.”

  Michael lifted his chin and stared off at the red rock cliffs in right field. “Things seemed to have worked out.”

  “Yeah, as long as Sheila doesn’t make waves.” Brock shook his head. He couldn’t believe he was sticking his nose in this mess. He had the perfect out from this bizarre family, and instead he lifted his bat and leaned forward on his toes, begging the pitcher to throw a strike low and outside. “Sorry. I’m calling it like I see it.”

  “Maybe you’re seeing it more clearly than I have,” Michael conceded. “A man doesn’t like to choose between his daughters. When they fight, it rips his heart in two. Peace is easier. I guess it comes with a cost.”

  “One Sheila shouldn’t have to pay.”

  Michael nodded. “What about you? Kelly’s got her eye set on you.”

  Brock blew out his lips. “The truth is, I’m kind of seeing someone else.”

  “You’re what?”

  Brock closed his eyes briefly before turning to find Kelly standing behind him, holding two cups of soda. The straws were in place, but the tops of the wrappers were still there—like she was afraid it would get covered in germs on the walk from the concession stand. Her mom was on the stair above, glaring down at him. Great, now he’d ticked off Sheila’s mom.

  Brock managed to keep his smile in place as he got to his feet. “I think what you do for children is amazing. I just … don’t think we’re compatible.” Brock rubbed the back of his neck, wondering when his life had fallen down the crazy hole. Here he was, breaking up with a girl he didn’t want to date in the first place, while the woman he wanted to be with didn’t even know he was here.

  Kelly glanced around at the people sitting nearby, who were trying to act like they weren’t paying attention.

  Brock kicked himself for not finding a quiet spot to tell her all this. Geez. He came off like a jagweed. “Here, let me help you.” He reached for the sodas, but Kelly yanked them out of his reach.

  “I’m fine.”

  He mentally screamed at the word. Anything but fine. Did fine run in the family?

  She moved to scoot into the row, and he went down two steps to give her room. Lisa lifted an eyebrow at him.

  “I’m sorry.” He was at a loss for words. What was he supposed to do? To say? He didn’t think he’d led Kelly on. But he wasn’t going to argue the point. Not here. “I’ll see you around,” he said to the group.

  Michael nodded in understanding. Lisa and Kelly pressed their lips together and ignored him.

  Whatever.
He needed to find Sheila.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Sheila

  “Shake out of it.”

  Sheila’s teeth rattled as Ashley shook her.

  “Pull yourself together, woman.”

  Sheila shook herself free of the claws and batted Ashley away from her. “I’m fine.”

  “You’re not fine. You’re lost in la-la land, and we’re live in five minutes.”

  “Five min—” Sheila jumped to her feet. The semifinals were due to start, and she wasn’t anywhere near the field or the broadcasting booth. She definitely hadn’t done her check-in with each department. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I have been telling you.” Her best friend’s face was red as a jersey, and a section of her hair had slipped out of its top knot.

  “Begin check-in, starting with—” Sheila drew a blank.

  “First Aid,” Ashley hissed.

  “First Aid.”

  The check-ins started. Sheila scrambled to gather a clipboard and her check-off sheet. Today’s event would be much shorter than the week before—only four hours—but there were just as many items to check off her to-do list as there had been the week before. No matter how stressed out she got, she couldn’t run to Brock for a knee-melting kiss or even a hug. She was on her own, and there was no greater feeling of loneliness than knowing exactly what she was missing out on.

  “Sorry, Ash. I’m on it. I promise.”

  “I know.” Ashley plucked at her bottom lip, a sure sign something was on her mind.

  “What?”

  “Call him. Maybe you can meet up with him later?”

  Sheila shook her head so hard her hair whipped her in the eye. She carefully pressed her palm over the sting. “I don’t have time for this—or him.” This being the heartache that had haunted her since she’d stepped out of the grocery store and reality sank in. She’d handed Brock over to Kelly.