Clutch Hit

by Faith O'Shea

  He let his arm drop from her shoulder but grasped her hand as they kept walking. She could feel the callouses from so much time spent with a bat in his hand, and the tingles that went with the contact of skin to skin.

  He was scanning the shoreline, and with help from the moonlight, she could see a look of contentment on his face.

  “We were linked to the sea, as well, sheltered by a huge harbor. The bay was sighted by Columbus on one of his journeys, and the pirates used to raid the shore before finding refuge there. The city of Camagüey used to sit on the coast but moved inland to escape the privateers. Today it is a shipping port for the export of sugar, with a rail terminus. The feel of my village has changed over the years, as well. It is coincidence that we both come from fishing villages, and our families who still live there go back generations, is it not?”

  She nodded, adding this one to the growing list of coincidences that had occurred since she met him. It could boggle the mind.

  They walked in perfect harmony, their bodies as one. When he stopped to look out over the water, he placed her in front of him, his arms tight around her waist, his chin leaning on her shoulder.

  “It is very different after all.”

  “How?”

  “The houses are well-cared for, there is abundance here that you don’t find where I was born. There, there are shoddy buildings, deteriorating more each year. It is a country crumbling away from its own neglect and way of life. It has been that way since I was born, around the time that the Soviet Union fell apart. They supplied all things sold in our marketplace and supported the communistic way of life. Then it was gone, and we were left with nothing. No food, no money. Here is a living, breathing city. I think this is what my town could be but never will.”

  He hugged her closer.

  “I like it here. Thank you for bringing me.”

  She felt his sadness. It was in his tone, his embrace. Not wanting to make light of it, she said, “I like it here, too. I forget just how much until I pull into the drive-way.”

  “I would live here if I could.”

  “I guess that’s a possibility. You have the money to buy whatever you want, and it might make a smart investment.”

  “In October we can look?”

  “Sure. It might be closer to November if you play post-season, but the timing would be perfect. People tend to wait until spring to think about summer living.”

  “The houses would be reasonably priced?”

  “It’s not as affluent as you think. It’s all in perspective. It used to be the busiest fishing port in the country, but with all the new rules and regulations, fishing doesn’t provide the same kind of livelihood as it used to. Now it’s more an artist colony and tourist destination. What it’s retained is its authenticity.”

  “Is that where your mother creates her pottery?”

  “There’s a small stone cottage to the side of the house where she has her wheel, kiln, and all her supplies. It was one of the reasons they bought the property after they got married. With my father on the road so much, my mother insisted they live here, where her family is. The house holds a lot of memories for her.”

  “You have a big family?”

  “My grandparents are gone, but I have aunts and uncles and cousins by the dozen here.”

  Her mother was one of five children and the Longs had been here as far back as the eighteen hundreds, when Gloucester was in its heyday.

  “Hopefully, I won’t get to meet all of them at one time.”

  She swallowed hard. He wouldn’t get to meet anyone, else. If she continued to bring him here, her mother, who had a sixth sense about things, would never stop badgering her about what was between them. And there was nothing. When she felt the stirrings of emotion rise up in her chest, she amended, there could be nothing. He was not the kind of man she could trust. He’d be on the road over a very long season, and he had yet to truly understand what his living here might entail. He’d never had the kind of freedom he’d have here, couldn’t possibly understand what the adoring fans would do to get him into bed. And that was purely the physical part of it. If he was as good as they all anticipated, he’d have them clamoring for his charm and talent, as well. He was the whole package. At least it looked that way. But how could she ever really know what was in his heart? She didn’t know him well enough for that. And she wasn’t risking hers to find out.

  While she was busy contemplating his assets, he’d come around to face her, his hands still wrapped around her waist. When he touched his lips to hers, she was startled back to reality. It was a light, teasing kiss, just enough to stifle her resistance, but so heady at the same time she felt a burst of desire that she couldn’t fight.

  She could feel his breath light on her face when he admitted, “After you kissed me at the altar, I knew I’d need to taste you again.”

  Without giving her the time to argue, he dipped his head and took her lips for another, deeper one, exploiting her mouth for all it was worth.

  Her unruly emotions had no time to organize before she was returning the kiss in full measure. The kisses were hungry, then soft, provocative, then tender, and she was unable to staunch the bone-melting fire that was consuming her.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, ready to give him possession of her body, if not her heart.

  It was only when Scarlet’s voice penetrated the fog that she jerked away. Had her sister seen the kiss? Would she tell on her?

  She was racing toward them, the sand spraying beneath her feet until she came to a full stop in front of them, all out of breath.

  “Allie, Mom wants to know if you want dessert and coffee? She bought a Boston cream pie.”

  Another of her favorites. Her mother had gone all out, and guilt threatened. She didn’t get here as often as she should. Work consumed her, and every hour over the last couple of months had been spent in preparation for the new season. She glanced up at Mateo and smiled.

  “I don’t think we have a choice. My taste buds have been put on alert.”

  “We need to get back soon, anyway, don’t we? I have yet to look at the test material for my permit tomorrow.”

  “Yes, and there’s a lot to study. How well do you read English?”

  He spoke it almost fluently, but some found reading in a second language more difficult.

  “I will get by. And you will be there to help if I need it?”

  “I will.”

  “Then I should be good.”

  They made their way back, Scarlet beside Mateo, his arms around each of them, keeping the chill at bay.

  The shivers were back hours later as she watched him wade through the manual, but it wasn’t from the cold. They were ensconced in his living room, she on the blue sofa jotting down notes for the upcoming development plans she was writing for the players, he on the white one, his forehead creased as he tried to understand the cumbersome laws he’d have to know to pass the test. She was enjoying his company entirely too much, even if he wasn’t saying a word. The silences between them didn’t seem awkward but more intimate, like they were really husband and wife, living life together.

  He looked up to find her staring at him.

  He didn’t let it distract him from his question. “Do I have to know all the penalties for the many violations they list?”

  “Anything in the manual can be on the test, so my guess is yes.”

  “There are many ways to lose your license here. In Cuba, not many at all.”

  “You drove in Cuba without one, didn’t you?”

  “On occasion. A friend’s car if he’d had too much to drink, for my safety more than his, to haul building materials when I could borrow a truck. The policía there are more concerned with other things and don’t bother with what they find inconsequential.”

  She gave him a wry grin. “Massachusetts is always looking out for our welfare. Too much so, at times.”

  He lifted the thick wad of paper held together by a binder clip,
folded over on the page he was reading. “This says you must wear seat belts.”

  Joking, she said, “You’ve seen Boston drivers. It’s a good idea, don’t you think?”

  The joke didn’t work. His expression remained serious.

  “It is something I will have to get used to.”

  She raised her eyebrows in amazement. “Braving defection or switching from aluminum to wooden bats, no big deal, but wearing a seat belt, big deal.”

  There was a light that went on in his eyes, one with a confident gleam.

  “I can make all adjustments in baseball.”

  A puff of pride swelled in her chest.

  “Yes, you can. Why is that?”

  “It is mental. Like a chess game, I think. You need a strategy and a game plan.”

  That was an interesting take.

  “And the know-how to execute it.”

  “Exactly.”

  “You play chess?”

  Her father played and had tried to teach her when she was younger, but the lessons never took. Or maybe she just got tired of losing. He wasn’t very good at letting her win just because she was ten.

  “During international competition, I would play whenever I could to keep my mind sharp.”

  She’d put down her notes, her pencil seesawing between her fingers. “If you ever visit Gloucester again, you can play with my father. He’d love some new competition.”

  He seemed to like that idea. “Maybe when we are on the road, I will search him out. I can’t see Seb or Rique being willing to play with me.”

  “There’ll be other men on the team, you know. Keogh plays I think, and Reid might.”

  “I have yet to meet many other than Reid, Rique and Seb.”

  “You’ll meet them all at the wake and funeral. It’s mandatory, not that it needs to be.”

  Larsen had spelled it out clearly. He wasn’t taking any chances that someone with a beef with the manager would skip the services.

  “You will introduce me?”

  “I’ll be there but I thought you said you were going with Seb.”

  He sat back, the thick packet still clutched in his hand.

  “Yes. He asked me to. He doesn’t want to walk in alone now that Mac got the managerial position.”

  “He doesn’t want to face Mac alone, or Casey?”

  She flashed her eyes at him, sorry she’d asked the question. How would he know what was in Seb’s mind?

  He shrugged. “She was never mentioned.”

  She studied his expression, but it gave nothing away. He’d promised Case he wouldn’t interfere and that what happened between the three of them and between the triumvirate would stay separate and confidential. Did he know more than what he was letting on but was keeping his word? It wouldn’t be fair to ask.

  “I’m sorry. I swore I wouldn’t put you in the middle of any of this. It would be too sticky if I did.”

  “That is what Casey said. That you are loyal, and I might have to choose sides. I’d rather be in the middle.”

  “Casey told you that?”

  She didn’t usually trust anyone with the truth to that extent.

  “She did. I assumed you told her about our…situation and she was giving me fair warning.”

  “It was the thing about friend that gave it away, wasn’t it?”

  “That did cause some suspicion.”

  She shifted in her seat, as if suddenly uncomfortable and shot him a guilty look.

  “I… I needed to talk to someone about it.”

  “And if I have the same need?”

  There was an edge to his voice.

  She couldn’t tell him not to spill the secret, only to be discerning about who he told.

  “Then I ask you confide in someone who’ll go to the grave with that secret. Casey will.”

  “Maybe I can talk to Casey, as well.”

  “And put her in the middle?”

  “I think she is already there.”

  He was right. She’d done that all by herself. She should have kept her mouth shut and dealt with it like she expected Mateo to do.

  “You can always talk to Mac.”

  “About my feelings for you?”

  She jumped up from the couch, not wanting to hear that he had them.

  “You better get back to studying. I’m packing it in for the night. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  She all but ran from the room, hoping to outdistance the feelings for him that were growing in leaps and bounds.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Alicia was back at her desk by ten o’clock the next morning, Mateo the proud holder of a Massachusetts learner’s permit. It seemed a bit crazy that he had to go that route, but it was the first step in acquiring a license. They’d made the appointment for the driver’s test and she’d bitten the bullet, letting him drive to meet Seb half-way between Boston and his place in Norwood. She was sure she’d lost ten years of her life. She didn’t know how people did it for a living, with teenagers who thought they were invincible. It wasn’t for the faint of heart.

  Seb was really helping her out by keeping Mateo company. The icing on the cake was that Seb was going to take Mateo out driving, teach him how to parallel park, give him some time behind the wheel on the highway, and let him drive up and down the quieter streets of a smaller town, said he was a pro, having done it before with his sister. Allie had been relieved if not outright pleased. Seb had somewhat of a lead foot and she didn’t want Mateo to pick up any bad habits.

  She glanced up at the vent over her desk. The heat was working full tilt, sending out a stream of hot air, so she shrugged out of her jacket, hung it carefully over the back of her chair, and rolled up the crisp, sleeves of her newly laundered, white blouse and got down to work.

  She checked her schedule again for good measure, mentally assessing how to parcel her time as efficiently as she could, having decided she was going to get back to Mateo’s condo in time for dinner. She had yet to go over his finances, show him how to write out a check, how to keep the register up to date, explain how the debit card worked, and she was going to do that tonight. Now that she was aware she’d shorted Mateo because of their circumstances, she’d promised herself she’d make a concerted effort to be there for him. It didn’t mean she’d been able to give him twenty-four-seven attention, but she’d give him what little time she did have. She just wasn’t sure what it would cost her in man-hours or emotion. The more she got to know him, the more she respected and liked him. The biggest hurdle she had to clear was the longing. It was becoming an acute ache. If Scarlet hadn’t interrupted that kiss last night…she suddenly realized what tune she’d been humming. She dropped her head into her hands, the words to Roberta Flack’s “Feel Like Making Love to You” still circling her brain.

  She pushed her hair back off her face, took a deep breath, and checked her daily planner.

  Her day was punctuated by two appointments and she had to fit all her other work around them. She had the eleven o’clock staff meeting with Dan, which was held every Monday for a summarization of what had been accomplished the prior week and the setting of goals for the current one. Then there was a meeting with Mac at two. The new manager had all her reports, but he wanted to go over them in person, and she’d been more than willing to oblige but it would probably take most of the afternoon. The reports included scouting notes, her decision-making process, and her opinion of every player’s performance. Her goal had been to produce a championship team, not an adequate one, and she’d looked at not only each players’ physical abilities but their mental skills as well. She’d already built high standards into the culture, and her motto had become performance through execution and consistency. There were certain characteristics she keyed in on the baseball ability side of the equation, such as talent, skill, awareness, and intelligence. The other side contained the personal traits that she needed the player to bring to the field, things like competitiveness, accountability, dedication, leadership. And she was always looki
ng for athletes who could make the others around him better. Some things could be taught, others couldn’t.

  The hour before the staff meeting would be devoted to the development plans she’d put off, thinking she’d have time to finish them before spring training, but she knew Mac would want to review them. He’d want to go over the specific outlines she wrote for each player, dissect what she expected them to work on, what their strengths and weaknesses were, and what they’d need to do to secure a spot on the roster. He’d do his own in-depth exploration of their skills and character as he got to know them, but this would give him a start in that direction. She’d amend and adjust as the Grapefruit League got going, and there’d be a final meeting before the regular season officially began. The men would either move up to the big leagues, be sent back to the minors, or be cut completely. It wasn’t her favorite time of year, knowing she’d be crushing dreams, but the ultimate goal wasn’t to massage egos but to put a winning team on the field.

  She opened her laptop, opened the file labeled DP and searched for the two she’d yet to finish. When she came to Sebastian Layden, she clicked to open it.

  His invitation to spring training had been a no-brainer. He was the best they had and could be great if given the opportunity. It was still incomplete because she was reluctant to admit he was part of their future. That came from her loyalty to Casey. With him in Boston, her friend would be hard-pressed not to notice. Now, with Mac in charge, it would be even harder to discuss his abilities. Not that she’d have to. Mac knew him, had mentored him for the two years Seb had dated Case, and was more than disappointed when Seb had walked away. He might have passed the test in honesty but he’d failed the one in commitment.

  A half hour later, she finished the last sentence of her summary. It was honest and hopefully unbiased. It was the next and last one that would cause her heart to flounder.

  After she saved the Layden document, she opened the one marked Mateo Alvarez.

  Before she could begin to answer the questionnaire she’d devised for her assessment, her assistant, Lyra, rapped at her half-opened door.