“Damn straight,” J.T. said and pumped his fist, which caused several of the guys to do the same thing.
That seemed to lighten the mood, and not feeling the need to say anything further, he turned back to his locker and reached for his watch. As he was putting it on, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He pivoted to find Rizzo standing behind him.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Rizzo said in a low voice.
“Thank you.” He looked over Rizzo’s shoulder to the pitcher’s locker where a framed photo of Rizzo’s young son was displayed. They didn’t like each other and probably never would, but as one father to another, they understood each other perfectly.
“Good game tonight,” Matt said and grinned. “Thanks for not shaking off all my pitch calls.”
Rizzo smirked. “Just trying to make you look good out there, Scanlon.”
“No. That was me making you look good.”
“Whatever,” Rizzo said with a shake of his head, then returned to his locker.
Before leaving the clubhouse, Matt checked his phone. Other than Sean and his agent, he hadn’t taken any calls or returned any messages. There had been three messages from Kelly but he’d deleted each one without listening to them.
Last night, after he’d left her place, he’d gone back to his condo feeling like he’d been punched in the gut and had the wind knocked out of him. As he sat in the dark and watched the ESPN report over and over as it played each half hour like clockwork, he’d cursed himself for being such a fool—for trusting Kelly and confiding in her about Joey.
Why did it hurt so damn much? This wasn’t the same kind of pain he’d experienced when Joey died, it was different. Kelly had made a conscious decision to stab him in the back—maybe that was the difference.
“Matt.” Kelly’s husky voice came from behind him. He turned to face her and for one moment he felt guilty for the shadows under her eyes. “May I speak with you for a few minutes?” she asked politely. “Alone.”
“Fine,” he said and followed her to the empty players’ lounge. He watched her ponytail swing back and forth and tried not to remember how soft her hair was and how he’d never tired of running his fingers through it. Pushing the memory away, he folded his arms across his chest when she came to a stop in front of the vending machines.
Kelly was all business as she turned around. “A press release just went out regarding the...the situation. The organization supports your decision not to speak with the press. Also, for the duration of the regular season we’ll make the clubhouse off-limits to all reporters.” She lifted her hand and rubbed her temple with her index finger. “We can’t ban them completely so they will be on the field before games and, of course, in the media room afterward.”
When he didn’t reply, she lowered her hand and continued, “I’ve declined all interview requests on your behalf. If you change your mind let me know.”
“I won’t change my mind,” he snapped, searching her face for some trace of guilt. But there was nothing—no remorse at all. “How could you do this to me?” He put his hands on his hips and glared at her.
“I could ask you the same question,” she shot back, her eyes blazing with anger.
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the fact that you immediately assumed I was the one who went to that sleazy tabloid. That you would think that of me made me realize you don’t know me at all.” She paused and gave him a disdainful look. “And you’re certainly not the man I thought you were.”
She was acting like the injured party. What the hell?
“What else am I supposed to think?” he demanded. “Joey died over a year ago and not one word has been mentioned in the media. Then I tell you and less than a week later I’m watching it on ESPN.”
“And that makes it all right for you to storm over to my house, accuse me of betraying you and leaving bruises on my arms?”
“Bruises?” A wave of nausea hit him. He remembered grabbing her arms, but he didn’t think he’d been that rough.
“Yes. If I didn’t have this blazer on you’d see the marks you left.”
“It won’t happen again.”
“You’re damn right it won’t.” Her frigid gaze held his with mesmerizing force. “Because you and me...we’re done.”
Stunned, he turned and watched her after she pushed past him and stalked away. And with each step she took the more alone he felt. When she slammed the clubhouse door behind her it finally hit him. Now he knew why it hurt so fucking much.
Son of a bitch. He was in love with Kelly Maxwell.
* * *
Ten long miserable days after she’d talked to Matt in the clubhouse, Kelly sat in Kamu’s with Angie. Sitting next to her was their softball teammate, Richie, who had called the meeting to discuss the Fall/Winter coed league. She half listened as Richie and Angie discussed practice times and recruiting. A few of their teammates had opted not to participate, which had Richie all fired up and ready to poach a few players from the other teams.
“How about that guy who plays shortstop for the Lions?” Richie asked, looking from Angie to her. “I’ll bet he’s dying to get on a team that actually has a chance at the championship.”
Kelly nodded. “Can’t hurt to approach him.”
“I agree,” Angie said from across the table. The smile on her face faded as she looked past Kelly and toward the entrance. Kelly turned her head, curious to see who or what had caused Angie’s very noticeable reaction. When she saw Matt and J.T. heading for the bar, her heart stopped and then started beating again with a thudding that pounded in her ears. Neither Matt nor J.T. glanced in their direction, and since they were still dressed in their travel clothes it was safe to assume the team’s charter had just returned from their four-day road trip to Chicago. A road trip that, thankfully, she’d been spared from. Katherine had gone in her place.
Kelly let her gaze linger on Matt’s handsome profile for several seconds and then forced herself to look away. She missed him—so much so that the past week and a half had been the longest of her life. The media spotlight had faded from Matt and Joey, and the press had, for the most part, moved on. She still received interview requests, but not as many as before. Matt’s continued silence on the subject had effectively shut down the story and the focus was back on the Blaze and their quest to win the division.
Turning back to the table, Kelly noted Angie’s attention continue to stray toward the bar and in her eyes, there was something Kelly had never seen when Angie talked about Scott. Something that looked a lot like lust.
After more discussion of potential players, Kelly left Angie and Richie at the table and made her way to the restroom. When she was finished and had washed and dried her hands, she walked out of the restroom and stiffened in surprise as Matt sauntered toward the men’s room.
Damn, he was sexy. He was wearing the same sport coat and charcoal-gray sweater he’d worn the night of Lily’s birthday party that never happened. His hair was longer, the ends curling around his collar, and there was dark stubble on his jaw. Tall, dark and damn hot—Lance’s description fit Matt to a tee.
He halted in front of her, and for a second she thought she saw longing in his eyes, but if it was longing it was gone quickly and replaced with an enigmatic look she couldn’t read.
His gaze traveled over her body and then lifted. She’d worn a dress today—only because she hadn’t gotten around to doing laundry.
“Who’s the guy you’re with? Angie’s fiancé?”
So he had seen her.
“No,” she said, not bothering to elaborate. It was none of his damn business who she was with. Not after the way he’d treated her.
“Funny, I didn’t peg you for the type to go right from one man to another,” Matt’s eyes narrowed, “but then I guess I never really knew you, did I?”
“Obviously not,” she said and was forced to move closer to him as a man rounded the corner and passed them on his way to the restroom. “Otherwi
se you would have known that I would never tell a soul about Joey.”
“Who’s the guy?” he asked again.
“Why do you care?” Kelly asked, hating the fact that despite how angry she was with him he still had the power to excite her. The warm spicy scent of his cologne coupled with the memory of the hot nights they’d spent together was almost too much to take. Instinctively, her body reacted. Her nipples grew taut against her bra and desire ignited low in her belly.
Their eyes locked, the electricity between them just as intense as ever.
“Looks like we’re right back where we started,” Matt said, breaking the taut silence.
“Yes. It does.” She should walk away but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Being this close to him would probably never happen again—the thought of it filled her with sadness.
“Then it’s a good thing I’ll be gone after the season.” He lifted his hand as if to touch her hair but then quickly lowered it.
“Best for both of us,” she whispered and fought the urge to lean into him and feel his lips upon hers one last time. With a start, she realized that’s exactly what she was doing and jerked back and collected herself. “The media restrictions are still in place,” she said, getting back to business. “However, when you win the division they’ll be lifted for postseason play.”
“You sound pretty confident we’re going to win.” Matt cocked his head. “Why is that?”
“Because you promised Lily you’d win the World Series. You can’t do that without winning the division.” She paused. “And for what it’s worth, I hope you win it all. After what they’ve been through, both Lily and the team deserve a winning season.”
Without waiting for him to reply, she turned and returned to the restaurant. As she passed through the bar, she waved at J.T. but he didn’t notice her. He was staring at the table where Richie and Angie were still sitting. He didn’t look happy.
It seemed that more than one person in Kamu’s tonight was in a bad mood—she was in good company.
* * *
Matt forced himself not to groan aloud when Stacia slid onto the bar stool next to him.
Shit. She always seemed to show up at the most inopportune times.
“Do you mind if I join you?” she asked, giving him a wide smile.
“Suit yourself.” He lifted his bottle and took a long swig as Stacia ordered some fancy drink from the bartender. He silently cursed J.T. for leaving him alone to finish his beer and wished he’d left at the same time. Making small talk with Stacia wasn’t his idea of fun.
“I’m glad I ran into you.” Stacia set her small purse on the bar.
“Why is that?”
“I saw the story about your son and I wanted to tell you how sorry I am for your loss.”
“Thank you.” He set his beer on the bar and reached for his wallet. It was time to leave.
Stacia thanked the bartender for her drink and wrapped her fingers around the slender stem of her glass. “I can’t imagine how difficult it’s been for you. I mean, finding out you had a son and learning of his illness on the same day.” Her sigh was dramatic. “So tragic.”
Matt opened his wallet, pulled out a twenty and couldn’t help but think Stacia wasn’t as genuine as she’d like him to believe.
“Has the media attention died down?” she asked.
“Pretty much.”
“That’s good.” Stacia sipped her drink. “I’m sure it was devastating to have all the details broadcast to the entire world.” She turned to him with moisture-filled eyes. “And how sad was it that you buried him in your Dodgers jersey?”
Done with the conversation, Matt slapped the twenty on the bar. This was one night when her low-cut top and push-up bra weren’t going to yield any results—at least not with him.
“I’m sorry but I’ve gotta go. Early day tomorrow,” he said and slid off the bar stool. “See you around.”
Stacia’s smile was suggestive. “If you’re lucky.”
Matt choked back a laugh. He was absolutely sure most guys got lucky with Stacia. Hell, he’d almost been one of them. Thank God that had never happened.
As he walked back to his condo, he couldn’t stop thinking about Kelly. The second he’d walked into Kamu’s he’d seen her. A woman like her was hard to miss. But what really got his attention was the guy who’d been sitting with her and Angie. It wasn’t Angie’s fiancé, Kelly had confirmed that.
Who was it?
The thought of Kelly with another man made him want to smash something—like the mystery man’s face. It wasn’t how he should be feeling about the woman who had betrayed him, but he couldn’t help it. He hated what she’d done, but he couldn’t turn his feelings off just like that.
Damn the woman. Even now he still loved her.
* * *
Later, as he lay in bed, he reached for the picture of Joey on his nightstand. He was surprised when it didn’t evoke the same sharp pain it had a few months ago. In the picture, taken about three months before his death, Joey was wearing his Dodgers jersey and was holding the puppy Leslie had given him for his birthday. Besides baseball, Joey loved dogs with a passion, and had been hounding Leslie for one for months. Leslie wasn’t an animal lover but had finally given in. Matt was convinced it was because, by that time, barring a miracle, it was clear Joey wasn’t going to make it.
After he’d returned the picture to the nightstand and turned off the light, he stared up at the ceiling and replayed the brief conversation he’d had with Stacia in his head. Something about it was off, but he wasn’t quite sure what it was. Maybe it would come to him later but he wasn’t too concerned about it right now. He had more important things on his mind.
Tomorrow, the Dodgers were in town for the final series of the regular season. Three games in three days and whoever won two out of the three would be the division champs.
So it had come to this. Strangely enough, he was looking forward to it.
* * *
The next day, Kelly sat next to her father in his seats just behind the Blaze dugout and, like everyone else in the ballpark, was caught up in the excitement of the game. The Dodgers and the Blaze had been rivals for years so anytime the Dodgers came to town the fans got rowdy. And, with a postseason berth on the line, the atmosphere was downright intense.
“Gentry’s in the zone,” her father said as they watched Trey deliver a hanging curveball that completely fooled the hitter who swung and missed. “That kid’s got something special.”
Kelly agreed. Trey Gentry had the potential to be better than Rizzo. She fully expected him to have a tremendous career. Today he was on fire. It was the top of the eighth inning and he’d struck out ten batters. She was confident of a victory. The Blaze were ahead thanks to Marquis Lopes, who’d belted a grand slam in the bottom of the sixth.
“How’s Matt doing?” John Maxwell turned in his seat as the crowd cheered wildly when the Dodgers’ main threat struck out and slammed his bat into the dirt. “Did you know about his son?”
“Yes.” Kelly looked at her dad. He didn’t know she and Matt were on the outs and that she didn’t know how Matt was feeling—other than being pissed at her, that is. This wasn’t the time to share that with her father, though. Maybe after the season and Matt was gone. Perhaps then it wouldn’t hurt so much. “He told me a few weeks ago.”
“It explains a lot, doesn’t it?”
She nodded. “He was in a lot of pain.”
“He seems to be past the worst of it,” her father commented and turned his attention back to the field where Matt stood behind home plate waiting for the next batter to take his stance. “Two hits so far and a hell of a pick at second. If anyone was concerned he was going to tank against the Dodgers, they were dead wrong.”
As she shifted her knees to allow the fan to the left of her father to pass in front of her and get to the aisle, her phone vibrated in her jacket pocket. She pulled it out and read the text highlighted on the small screen.
�
�Dad, I’ll be right back. Katherine needs me in her office right now.” She shoved the phone back into her pocket and rose to her feet. “I shouldn’t be too long.”
After navigating her way through the fans milling around the food and drink stands, Kelly made her way to the front office and hurried down the carpeted hallway to find Katherine’s door open and her boss sitting at her desk with her head cradled in her hands.
“What’s wrong?” she asked as she stepped inside the office. “Is everything okay?”
“No.” Katherine lifted her head; it was plain to see she’d been crying. Her eyes were red and her cheeks wet. A feeling of dread tiptoed up Kelly’s spine. Her boss rarely showed emotion; for her to do so now meant something serious had occurred. “Sit down.” Katherine motioned to the floral-covered chair opposite her desk. “I just received a call from Rick Taylor’s agent.”
Kelly sank to the plump cushion and clutched the padded arms with her fingers. “What happened? Is Rick okay?”
“It’s not Rick.” Katherine reached for a tissue from the box on her desk. “It’s Jill. She’s dead.”
Caught off guard, Kelly sucked in a shocked breath. “Oh my God,” she whispered. “When? How?”
Katherine dabbed at her cheeks with the tissue and then tossed it on her desk. “Late last night. Jill’s car was hit by another vehicle in the middle of an intersection. She died instantly.”
Kelly put a hand to her mouth and blinked back tears. Katherine grabbed another tissue. They sat in silence, both too stunned to speak.
“She was pregnant,” Kelly finally said, lowering her hand to her lap. “I talked to Rick two weeks ago. They had just announced it to their families.”
“I know.” Sadness shadowed Katherine’s eyes. “As expected, Rick’s taking it pretty hard.” Katherine pushed the tissue box forward. Kelly plucked one out of the box and wiped away the moisture from around her eyes. “We need to handle this with the utmost sensitivity. Rick is a member of the Blaze family. Doug has made it clear that we’ll respect any decisions he makes regarding his return to the ball club.”
The Winning Season Page 27
