by Rhonda Shaw
CAUGHT
By Rhonda Shaw
Book three of Men of the Show
ISBN-13: 978-0-9962538-0-2
Copyright © 2015 by Rhonda Shaw
Edited by Deborah Nemeth
Cover design by Lily Smith / coversbylily.com
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
Caught
By Rhonda Shaw
Book three of Men of the Show
Shannon Morrison’s dreams of becoming a lawyer are finally coming true. After landing a job at a prestigious law firm in Chicago, she’s willing to sacrifice everything, including putting her personal life on hold, as nothing will stand in her way of making partner. Nothing except perhaps the gorgeous Detroit Rockets’ All-Star catcher, Matt Buck.
Just when he didn’t think his luck would turn around, life finally throws Matt a fastball right down the middle, reconnecting him with the one girl who has always intrigued him. As before, the timing isn’t right, but Matt refuses to let this opportunity pass him by again. He knows Shannon’s career leaves little room for anything else in her life, but he’s unwilling to give in and will do whatever he can to make them work.
Together, Matt and Shannon struggle through one hurdle after another, determined to find a way to have everything they want. Just when they’ve finally figured it out, someone from Matt’s past shatters everything, and leaves them both grappling to pick up the pieces…
Acknowledgements
Many thanks to Mr. Greg Hoelscher and Dr. Steven Korotkin for their patience and tolerance as I hounded them with incessant questions about the law and medical fields. Their willingness to explain and clarify helped ensure my accuracy.
Chapter 1
Matt Buck strolled up to home plate and dug in, trying to look as though he didn’t have a care in the world. The crowd was going wild. The game was down to the wire and the Detroit Rockets’ fans knew he was the last chance to save the season. Failure would mean the end, which was unacceptable. They refused to give up hope. If anyone could provide the much-needed lift, it was the All-Star catcher.
He’d been in this position before, was used to the pressure, but the sheer volume of the people yelling from the stands never failed to astound him. He ignored the frenzy, however. If he didn’t, he’d be a hot mess at the plate.
Behind by two runs in the bottom of the ninth inning against the Cleveland Buffaloes, a loss today meant the Rockets would miss their chances of continuing into the playoffs and instead would be heading home for the winter. Matt couldn’t think about what was at stake, though. He needed to stick to the basics and let natural instinct take over. He had to focus on seeing the ball leave the pitcher’s hand, and once that occurred, everything else was routine, a deep-rooted reaction he’d honed over the years. He hadn’t won four Silver Slugger awards for nothing. As one of the best hitters in the game, he’d led the league in home runs multiple times and was clutch in situations such as this. He lived for these moments and thrived on the pressure.
Settling in his stance, he held the bat quietly over his right shoulder and waited patiently as the crowd noise faded away into the background. He had an inkling they were going to pitch him down and away, and he had to make certain not to chase. Sure enough, the throw came in outside the far left corner of the plate and the umpire called ball one.
He placed one foot outside the batter’s box, adjusted his bright red batting helmet with a white block R in the middle, and tugged on his white jersey with lettering in the same shade as his helmet, trying to keep the fit loose on his shoulders. Taking a deep breath through his nose, he stepped back into the small box next to home plate outlined in powdery chalk, awaiting the next pitch. The fastball caught the left corner of the plate for a strike, but patience was the name of the game. If he waited, he would get the perfect pitch.
Down the third-base line, the coach signaled to Matt he still had the green light to swing away and put the ball in play any way possible. Matt kicked at the dirt with his cleats and tapped his helmet in acknowledgement before stepping back in. He eyed the pitcher, and as the ball came hurtling toward home plate, it broke again and Matt laid off. No matter how hard they tried, he wasn’t going to swing at a bad pitch. He was determined and they could keep pitching him low and outside as much as they wanted.
The crowd grew louder with the count now two balls and one strike. At this point, they’d be happy with anything, even a walk. Anything other than an out.
The Cleveland pitcher wouldn’t purposefully dig himself into a hole any more than he needed to, however, so one of the next pitches was going to be the one. Even with first base open, the Buffaloes didn’t want to chance loading them up, especially since they only needed one more out. They could have gone with the pitch out on four straight pitches, walking Matt on purpose, but since the Rockets were an offensive threat throughout their entire lineup, they were taking a gamble with him.
Matt cleared his throat and returned to his stance. Again, all noise and commotion faded into the background, and his tunnel vision included only the pitcher and the ball. The pitcher went through his motion and Matt swore the ball was the size of a grapefruit as it came racing toward him.
This is it. Instinct took over and he reacted, swinging with everything he had.
The ball soared through the air as everyone in the stadium stood up to will it out of the park. It had the height, but the distance was questionable. Matt made the turn at first base and continued to track the ball. The Cleveland center fielder gave chase and almost had the fence at his back. He put out his left hand to feel for the wall while he held up his glove.
“Damn it,” Matt muttered. The ball wasn’t going to make it. The center field at Rockets stadium was extremely deep at over four hundred and twenty feet, and he’d missed by mere inches.
With his back against the wall, the outfielder reached up and snagged the ball, closing the door on the Detroit Rockets’ season. The Buffaloes all ran out onto the field to celebrate as Matt, struggling to ignore them, stopped when he reached second base and took off his helmet. He hung his head and kicked the bag. A chorus of boos rang out from the crowd, and he tried not to notice, but it was hard. The ball should have been out of here.
Walking slowly toward the dugout, he shrugged off the pats on his back and ignored his teammates’ encouraging words. Instead, all he heard was the berating voice in his head lecturing that his approach should have been different. What or how, he had no idea, but surely he could have done something to ensure the ball left the stadium, cementing the win for the Rockets. But it hadn’t, and now it didn’t matter.
The season was over and he was heading home for the winter. Like it or not, he’d failed.
* * *
Returning home that night, Matt tossed his gym bag on the floor in the laundry room and stepped into the kitchen, hitting the light switch as he walked over to the fridge. As he poked through his slim options for dinner, a noise sounded from the other room like someone was opening the front door.
He straightened and frowned, listening. He was grouchy and this person was entering at his or her own risk, as far as he was concerned. Tough losses were part of the game, that was how it rolled, but for whatever reason, this time nagged at him. His tea
mmate and good friend, Ace pitcher, Jerry Smutton, tried to remind him that their season hadn’t ended with his at-bat, but Matt was tired of this “close enough” bullshit. He wanted them to win the pennant and he was willing to give all he had in order to make it happen.
When the deadbolt clicked, he ground his teeth and hissed in a breath, so not in the mood to deal with whatever was going on. He should be worried someone was entering his home, or at the very least uneasy, but anger consumed him instead and he threw the refrigerator door shut, his long legs quickly eating up the space between the kitchen and the front of the house. Matt entered the entryway at the same time the door opened revealing Natalie, his ex-girlfriend. He stopped in shock, a few choice words on the tip of his tongue, but unable to articulate any of them, when she glanced up.
“Oh, you poor thing,” she said with a pout. “I came as soon as I saw what happened.”
She walked over and wrapped her arms around his waist, giving him a squeeze.
He was so stunned that he had no idea what to do, what to say. It was as if nothing had changed and she was here playing the comforting role of the supportive girlfriend. Unbelievable.
A few months back, he’d ended things with her, tired of her possessiveness and incessant accusations of him cheating on her while he was on the road. According to her, he kept a different woman in each city, a ludicrous statement because he was nothing but loyal and he never, ever considered straying. The breakup hadn’t been amicable and it had taken some work to get her to stop contacting him, but he’d believed she’d finally gotten the hint. Apparently not.
She hugged him a little tighter, which kicked him into gear. Grabbing her shoulders, he wrenched her away and stepped back, putting some distance between them.
“What are you doing?” he asked. “Why are you here?”
“I’m here for you,” she said with earnest big brown eyes. “I knew you’d be upset after the game and I wanted to be here to support you.”
“No, no.” He shook his head, not understanding how she was not getting this. “No. This is not how this works. We are done. Over. Through. As in, you don’t come here anymore. We don’t see each other anymore.” He glanced at the front door. “How the fuck did you get another key?”
“Seriously, Matt, come on,” she said with a smile as she started to walk past him to the kitchen. “I’ll fix you something to eat and we can talk—”
He grabbed her arm, stopping her in her tracks. “You need to leave.”
She tugged, but he wouldn’t loosen his grip. “Knock it off. This isn’t funny.”
Matt gave her a cold stare, letting her know he was serious. He refused to go through this again. He’d already changed his cell phone and home numbers twice. “No, this isn’t funny. Not at all.”
He pulled her back to the front door, paying no attention to her struggles as she dragged her feet and attempted to twist out of his tight hold. “Don’t come here again, Natalie. I’m serious. We’re through.”
Ignoring the look of shock on her face, he pushed her outside and slammed the door shut, engaged the lock, and took a deep breath as he leaned against the hard wood, running his fingers through his short hair. He couldn’t believe she actually showed up…at his house. He’d demanded she hand over her copy of his house key before, but apparently, she’d had additional ones made.
What wasn’t she getting? Why was she continuing to act as if everything was the same? She drove him mad and he had no clue what else to do to get it through her head. If she refused to believe him or hoped she could convince him otherwise, he wasn’t sure there was anything else he could say. He didn’t love her, he didn’t want to be with her, and he didn’t know any other way to tell her things were over.
Nothing from the get-go with her had triggered any alarms. Everything had been fun in the beginning and they’d really enjoyed each other. They liked the same things, never finding it difficult to talk about anything, which led to him wanting to progress to the next level. Natalie was ecstatic when he asked her to move in with him. And not long afterward, the problems started.
Eventually, Matt reached his breaking point, pretty much around the time he started acting like a hermit simply in order to avoid the drama, and threw her out, thankful that was the end of it. Little did he know he’d still be dealing with her all this time later. He wasn’t comfortable with the control being out of his hands, but he’d deal with it somehow.
Peeking out the side window by the front door, Matt saw her car no longer sat in the driveway. He sighed, relieved that perhaps the drama was over, and returned to the kitchen. Natalie had pretty much killed what little appetite he’d had after the loss, but he had to eat something. Otherwise, his stomach would wake him up in the middle of the night starving and he hated that. He wanted nothing more than to pack up and head home to Arizona and be away from everything—Natalie, Detroit, the Rockets, baseball, women. He wanted to get away from it all and forget, but leaving wasn’t an option. He had a lot to do before then and one of them included standing up in Jerry’s wedding.
And now, a new addition to his list. He had to change his locks.
Chapter 2
Resting her forehead against the steering wheel of her rental car, Shannon Morrison turned off the engine and let out a deep breath, more than happy to be off the road. The usual forty-five minute drive from the airport to her sister Karen’s house had taken close to two hours because of a fresh snowfall, and her eyes were beginning to cross. And after barely making her flight out of Chicago because she’d been convinced she could squeeze in a last-minute consultation before taking off for a long weekend, her tank was empty.
The front door opened as she trudged up the steps in her heels, trying not to slip and twist an ankle. She smiled at her soon-to-be brother-in-law, Jerry Smutton.
“You made it,” Jerry said with a big grin as his brown eyes twinkled at her. He reached forward to grab her bag out of her hand.
“Ugh! What a horrible drive.”
“I could have picked you up. You didn’t need to rent a car.” He pulled her into a hug.
“I know, I know. My parents offered as well, but it’ll be easier for everyone if I have my own ride.”
He took her jacket from her. “Well, thank God you’re finally here. She’s been going back and forth all day between being happy you’re coming and bitching that you’re not here yet. Now she’ll shut up.”
Despite the timing of the wedding not being the best for her schedule, Shannon was excited to return home for Detroit’s version of the Wedding of the Century. The ceremonies were still a few days away but Karen had declared, in her own dramatic fashion, she needed Shannon home early and, if not, then she should prepare for World War III. It wasn’t as if Shannon wasn’t planning to get there as soon as she could, but Karen was already slightly irritated at her due to her lack of participation in any of the planning. Shannon really had wanted to help, had had every intention to, but work had always gotten in the way. Even Shannon had to admit her involvement was appalling if she didn’t even know which groomsman she was walking down the aisle with (which she didn’t) and she’d only seen her dress in a picture online. She’d failed as a little sister and co-Maid of Honor, and guilt would eat at her for a long time, but Karen understood, as she always did. She recognized the pressure put on Shannon from her job and, while she bitched about it, she respected it.
Shannon laughed and headed toward the kitchen. “Where is the lovely bride-to-be anyway?”
Walking through the archway, she found Karen exactly where she always was—behind the stove. She had her Because I Said So apron on and her blond hair shoved into a messy bun. She was chopping a variety of vegetables on a cutting board, but she stopped and put the knife down, her blue gaze hard as she took her in from head to toe.
Shannon rolled her eyes. “Yes, I’m here, in the flesh, and in one piece.”
Karen’s mouth twisted as she fought a smile before stepping around the island to pull her int
o her arms. “It’s about friggin’ time.”
“Sorry. I got here as soon as I could get away from work.”
As an Associate Attorney in the law offices of Bickles, Bickles and Barnes, Shannon was at the bottom of the totem pole and therefore, requesting time off was not encouraged, but this was for Karen, her only sibling, and so of course, Shannon had asked for the personal time. Consequently, however, no doubt her schedule was going to be a bitch when she returned, and new grunge tasks would show up on her to-do list. But she’d suck it up and pay her dues.
Karen squeezed her tighter before going back to her chopping. “You work too damn much, it’s unhealthy, but I’m so glad you’re here. Everything finally feels real now.”
Shannon peeked in the simmering pots, enjoying the hearty and spicy scents tickling her nose. There was no arguing her sister was an excellent cook. “What are you cooking?”
“Some soup.” She nudged Shannon out of the way to dump the vegetables in. “I figured it would help de-stress you after all of your travels.”
“It smells amazing. Thank you,” Shannon smiled at her sister before leaning down and kissing her on the check, which was rosy from the heat of the stove. “You look great. I’m so excited that you’re getting married.”
Karen flashed a big smile. “I know! I am too, but don’t tell Mr. Ego that. It will just inflate his head even more.”
“Don’t tell me what?” Jerry asked as he stepped into the kitchen. “I put your bag in the guest room at the end of the hall,” he told Shannon.
Shannon laughed. “I’m not even going to ask how you knew Mr. Ego was you or why you’re okay with it.”
He shrugged and grinned, which popped his dimple. “It’s only one of her many endearing names for me.”
