The Winning Season

by Alison Packard

  He drained the last of the liquid from the cup and lobbed it into a nearby trash receptacle. Behind him, Kelly was still watching the game with her father. He hadn’t made eye contact with her since he’d returned from the clubhouse. Not because he didn’t want to, but because he was afraid he might see something in her eyes that indicated she wasn’t going to forgive him. Or that she didn’t love him.

  The apology he’d given her was rushed, but it couldn’t be helped. He’d taken one look at her beautiful face and knew he had to tell her everything—no matter the outcome.

  What would that outcome be? He’d know after the game.

  After the center fielder hit a grounder straight to the Dodgers’ first baseman and was called out, Matt grabbed his favorite bat from the cubby and strode to the on-deck circle as Lopes moved into the batter’s box. As he looked around the ballpark it seemed as if he was engulfed in a sea of orange. Everyone in the stadium had one of those rally towels—and was using it. The fans were so loud he could barely hear himself think.

  A few months ago he’d stood in this exact spot and felt like an outsider. Now all he felt was the love these fans had for their team, and by extension, for him. It was an amazing feeling, and one he would never take for granted again.

  Matt swore softly as Lopes swung at the first pitch and hit a fly ball straight to the Dodgers’ left fielder. It was caught easily, and as Lopes stalked toward the dugout Matt walked to the plate.

  This was it. Showtime.

  He took his stance and ignored the trash talk from his counterpart, the guy who’d replaced him. Instead he focused on the pitcher—the Dodgers’ ace reliever. The first pitch came at him at about 95 mph, but it looked high so he laid off it. The umpire called it a ball and the crowd cheered. The second pitch fooled him. He swung, and missed, the outside slider. The crowd let out a collective groan. The next pitch he fouled off—the count was now one ball and two strikes.

  As he took his stance one more time, he thought of Lily. Of the outlandish promise he’d made to her. Joey would never see another World Series, but Lily would, and more than anything he wanted her to wake up and know the Blaze had a shot at getting there.

  The pitch came at him fast, but it was in his sweet spot, so he swung the bat as hard as he could.

  The first thing that registered was the hard vibration of the bat in his hands, followed by the sound of the ball cracking off of the wood, and finally, the hopeful roar of the crowd as the ball shot, like a rocket, toward right field. Dropping his bat, he ran toward first base watching the ball’s trajectory. The second it sailed over the bleachers, and almost 50,000 fans went bat-shit crazy, he pumped a triumphant fist in the air and rounded first base.

  On the huge screen deep in center field, the words HOME RUN flashed wildly all over the screen and then a televised picture cut in and showed the kayakers in the cove fighting to get to the ball. It had landed in the bay. As he rounded third and headed for home, the foghorns blared loudly and he grinned like a damn fool at the sight of his teammates waiting for him at home plate. In about three seconds he was going to be at the bottom of the biggest and happiest dog pile in the National League.

  And he couldn’t wait.

  The celebration was a joyous one and as Rizzo grasped his hand and pulled him up from the dirt, the pitcher was wearing a smile so wide Matt was reminded of the Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland. Before he knew it, Rizzo had pulled him into a bear hug and was slapping his back. For now their animosity was forgotten and all was right with the world.

  “The champagne’s waiting,” Rizzo yelled after the hug. “Be prepared to get wet.”

  He felt a tap on his shoulder, turned and found J.T. standing behind him. “Way to go, man,” his friend said and hugged him before being hauled off by Lopes to go God only knew where.

  As the players, coaches and bat boys all milled around in varying degrees of euphoria, Matt pushed his way through them and headed for the dugout. Winning was amazing, but it would mean so much more if he could share it with Kelly.

  In the stands, security guards had spread out around the perimeter to prevent any overzealous fans from storming the field. When he reached the dugout, he looked up and saw Kelly and John Maxwell crushed between some fans that had left their seats, itching to get closer to the celebration.

  There was noise—so much noise, but when his eyes locked with Kelly’s it all disappeared. For several heart-pounding seconds he waited for something—anything—that would indicate her feelings for him. He waited and prayed, hoping for a miracle.

  And then it happened.

  He couldn’t hear her over the screaming of the fans, but he could read her lips. And what her lips were saying was what he’d been dying to hear.

  I love you.

  With a superhuman effort he didn’t know he possessed, he used the railing for leverage and vaulted on top of the dugout. Two security guards turned and looked at him like he was a lunatic, while the fans in the vicinity cheered even louder. Some beckoned to him with outstretched arms while others took pictures with cameras and cell phones.

  As he moved toward Kelly, her wide smile was eclipsed only by the love shining in her eyes. When he halted in front of her, he held out his hand. She hesitated long enough to look at her father who, surprisingly, appeared to be a little choked up. Then she took his hand and let him pull her onto the top of the dugout.

  Matt’s heart raced a mile a minute as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her against him. Every camera in the place was likely trained on them, but he didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was the beautiful sexy woman he was holding in his arms.

  “You’re crazy, you know that, right?” Kelly said, still smiling as she braced her hands on his shoulders.

  “Say it again.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  “Not that.” He grinned. “Say it again. So I can hear it.”

  “I love you,” she shouted happily.

  “Thank God,” Matt said, and then in front of the fans, the players and a national television audience of millions, he kissed the woman he loved.

  * * * * *

  Craving more feel-good contemporary romance?

  Then pick up Love in the Afternoon by Alison Packard. Available now!

  Love in the Afternoon

  Kayla Maxwell is eager to shed her slasher-flick bimbo image—and she plans to do just that in her new role on daytime’s most popular soap. With a chance to showcase her dramatic range, Kayla will be able to wash away the lingering betrayal and public humiliation left by her controlling, philandering ex-boyfriend.

  When Kayla receives threatening letters, her past as a scream queen seems to be coming back to haunt her. Succumbing to an attraction neither one of them can deny, Sean and Kayla must face down her stalker and their own personal demons before trusting what they both feel—a love that lasts long after the cameras stop rolling.

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  About the Author

  Alison fell in love with reading at a very early age. Her favorite grandmother worked for Scholastic Books, and every Friday would bring home a box filled with books she was able to buy for a nickel apiece because they were slightly irregular. In her early teens, Alison discovered Harlequin Presents romance novels at the library and read them voraciously. What she liked most about them? The exotic locales and happy endings, of course!

  When Alison isn’t working at the day job that pays the bills, keeps a roof over her head, and supports her book and chocolate habit, she spend most of her free time writing. But when she takes a break, she enjoys reading and spending time with her family and friends.

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