Out of Her League

by Lori Handeland

  “So, Julie, if you yell at girls, what happens?”

  “They cry.”

  “So do boys.”

  “No! “

  “Yes, just not in front of anyone. Unless they’re little, like the guys here.”

  “Do you cry, Joe?”

  “No one’s dared to yell at me lately.”

  Her fingers flexed on his biceps. “I can see why.”

  Well, if that wasn’t an opening, he’d never heard one. Joe took the plunge. “How about we continue this conversation over dinner tomorrow night?”

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  “Where should we go? I’m new in town.”

  “You certainly are.” She sighed, as if in relief. “There’s a halfway decent Italian restaurant on Main Street. Family owned. Been there forever. It’s really the only game in town.”

  “Bertolusi’s?” Joe asked, having seen the sign.

  “That’s the one. What time?”

  “Pick you up at seven?”

  While they went over the particulars of where she lived and how to get there, Joe looked toward Evie yet again—just as the guy leaned over and kissed her cheek.

  “Excuse me?” Julie asked, peering at him strangely.

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  “You growled.”

  “Really?” He watched as Evie and her new friend walked toward the parking lot together. “I didn’t realize.”

  “If you use Todd as your closing pitcher, I really think you’ll be glad. I’ve been teaching him since he was itty-bitty, and if I do say so myself, I was quite the player in my day.”

  She deserved this, Evie knew. But that didn’t make listening any easier. This was what she got for accepting the first date that came her way. But how on earth was she going to make the memory of Joe Scalotta’s kiss a thing of the past when all she did while Chad Roland droned on and on about his son was fantasize about kissing Joe again beneath an Iowa moon?

  Bertolusi’s was rarely crowded, even on a weekend. Tonight was no exception. Four couples, including Evie and Chad, graced the dining room.

  The restaurant resembled an old-time drugstore, complete with soda counter. Perhaps because that was what it had been twenty years ago. The owners had converted the antique counter into a bar and hung plastic grapes and vines across the front. This gave the illusion of Italy on a shoestring. But the decor became irrelevant once you tasted the great food.

  “Evie?”

  She glanced at Chad and realized he’d actually stopped talking long enough to hear her opinion. He wouldn’t like it, but that wasn’t going to stop her from giving it.

  “I agree that Todd is a good pitcher, but he does better as a starter. He does not pitch well under pressure, which usually comes at the end of a game.”

  “And that Scalotta chick does?”

  Evie had been picking at her fettuccine Alfredo. The food was excellent as always, but the company had ruined her appetite. She gave up trying to eat and put the fork down very carefully next to her plate, lest she reach across the table and stab Chad in the hand.

  “Her name is Toni. She’s a young woman and not a chick. And, yes, she does pitch well under pressure.”

  Chad was too oblivious to catch the undercurrent in Evie’s voice. He just went on—and on.

  “She didn’t do too hot last time she was out there. Your team lost.”

  “She didn’t let things upset her and she kept going. I’m trying to build young men and women of character, not neurotic brats who only know how to win.”

  He continued on as if he hadn’t even heard her. He probably hadn’t. “If you’d give Todd a chance, you’d see he can do the job.”

  “I’ve given him a chance, and it didn’t work out.”

  “So all you care about is winning? I should have known that, considering the bet you made in front of God and everyone.”

  Luckily she’d put the sharp object down, because now she was really mad. “You know me, and you know how I coach. I don’t put wins ahead of kids. Todd does not play well at the end of a game, and it upsets him when he loses.”

  “So what? He needs to get used to pressure. It’s a fact of life.”

  “Not at sixteen. He’s got enough pressure worrying if everyone likes him, or if the zit on his chin will be gone before Saturday night. He doesn’t need to worry about acting out your fantasy in Big League. Baseball isn’t that important in the scheme of life.”

  “Really?” He leaned back in his chair and stared at her. “I never thought I’d hear that from you. I figured you’d do whatever it takes to make your team number one.”

  “You figured wrong.”

  But Chad’s words made Evie think. She’d been so mad about the school board offering Joe her job that she’d made a bet dependent upon winning. Not that she would have to exert pressure on her team to win. They were good—because she coached them well and knew each kid’s strengths and weaknesses. She was a good teacher. She was the best person for the varsity coaching job. Evie truly believed that, or she wouldn’t have asked for it, nor would she have decided to fight for it. But to get the job, she had to win.

  So was she setting a bad example by this bet? Probably. Should she call the whole thing off?

  Evie sighed. If she did, Joe would get the job. He said he didn’t want it, but then why had he made the bet? She didn’t trust him—and why should she?

  Still, she hadn’t seen any indication he was a bad influence. Yet. But his past did not bode well. Sure, he might settle down long enough to get Toni acclimated, but then what? Maybe Evie should talk to Joe, if she could manage to be in the same room with him and not belt him—or kiss him.

  “Well, isn’t this interesting.” Chad peered over Evie’s shoulder toward the door with a smirk on his lips. “If it isn’t the Wildman himself. And look who he’s hooked up with. Unruly Julie.”

  Evie didn’t dare turn around and ogle, though all the others in the place did just that. If Joe was dating Julie Hanson, that meant trouble. Julie had always been a problem.

  Every town had its wild child, and Oak Grove had Julie. In a town this small, everyone knew everything she did almost before she did it. The one thing Julie wanted more than anything else, and she made no secret about it, was to get out of Oak Grove forever. She must have latched on to Joe hoping for a ride.

  In Evie and Joe’s annoying phone conversation, Joe had said quite plainly that he wanted a serious relationship. If that relationship was Julie, then Joe didn’t mind leaving Oak Grove in the future—the near future, if Julie had her way.

  Joe’s choice of date made Evie rethink her position on their bet. She would be the best person for the job. She wasn’t going anywhere, probably for the rest of her life, and that was just fine with her. She loved Oak Grove. Everything she’d ever needed or wanted was right here.

  As Joe and Julie passed her table, Evie looked up, right into ice-blue eyes. Joe seemed surprised to see her. She had to admit, though, it was strange they both had a date at Bertolusi’s on the same night.

  Joe nodded politely, but Julie kept on going. She and Evie were acquaintances, no more, since Julie was about ten years younger than Evie. Trust Joe to find a date barely past the age of majority.

  Chad snickered as Joe and Julie took their seats. Evie pulled her gaze from Joe, who looked far too good in a suit and tie, back to her date.

  “So what do you think?” He nodded toward the other couple.

  Evie shrugged. “Not my business.”

  “No? I kind of figured you and Scalotta had something going.”

  Evie’s hand jerked, and she nearly spilled the water she’d been about to drink. “Why would you figure that?”

  Chad’s smile widened. “Everyone saw you two nose to nose at the board meeting. The sparks flew. To be honest, I was surprised when you agreed to go out with me.”

  So was I, but it won’t happen again, Evie promised herself.

  “There’s nothing between Joe
and me but that bet.”

  “Hmm. Then how did his kid get to be your number-one pitcher?”

  “Because of her talent, not her father’s charm—such that it is. Is that what this is all about, Chad?” She waved her hand to indicate the restaurant, the table, them.

  He shrugged but he didn’t speak, which told her the truth. Her first date, and it was because someone’s daddy wanted to weasel his baby boy a better position on her team. Well, she’d always had to learn the hard way. Why should this be any different?

  “Thanks for the dinner, Chad, but I’ll walk home. Think about what I said, and let Todd find his own path.”

  Evie stood, picked up her purse and calmly exited the restaurant. As the door swung shut behind her, she vowed this would be the last date for her.

  Joe wasn’t paying attention to Julie; he was watching Evie leave her date high and dry. He’d be a liar if he said he didn’t enjoy that.

  When he’d come in and seen her there, the rush of joy had been followed quickly by a surge of jealousy toward the pretty boy who had brought her—the same guy who had kissed her cheek at the ballpark. Joe would never kiss any woman’s cheek, for crying out loud. Maybe women enjoyed it, but that was just too bad.

  The guy looked like her type. A blond, sun-bronzed, suit-and-tie boy—not too tall or too bulky; he wouldn’t tower over Evie the way Joe did. He would never yank on his tie and wish he could rip the thing off before he strangled. That guy probably slept in a tie—and liked it.

  “Hey, Joe?”

  He brought his attention back to Julie with an apologetic smile. “Yeah, I’m here. Should we order some wine?”

  “Ooh, could we get champagne? We can celebrate.”

  What they had to celebrate, Joe didn’t know, but he hated to disappoint a lady. He shrugged and handed her the wine list, which she pored over like a kid taken to a candy buffet. At least that kept her quiet for a while. She hadn’t stopped talking since they’d gotten into his car.

  She was too young for him. Joe could see that now. At the ballpark, beneath the night lights, which flattered no one, he’d thought her at least thirty. Since she had a six-year-old daughter, that seemed right. But now he could see she was twenty-five, if that, which made her more than ten years younger than him. He just wasn’t going to go there.

  Though he’d admired Julie’s shiny red dress when he picked her up—how could he not when the fact that it was a size too small showcased her ample charms to the utmost?—now she reminded him of Marilyn Monroe when she’d sung “Happy Birthday” to JFK. He’d read somewhere that Marilyn had to be sewn into her dress, and this had contributed to her breathy, sexy rendition. Joe could imagine Julie needing the same treatment to get into her red number. She’d definitely need to be cut out of it. Joe didn’t plan to be the guy holding the scissors.

  After seeing Evie in her buttercup-yellow sundress and sandals, bare legs and feet peeking from beneath the hem as she swished out the door, the sight of Julie made his eyes sore.

  Tonight Evie had worn a little makeup, too, just enough for her summer tan to glow. A little blush, a bit of lipstick. And she’d done something to her eyes that had made him go hot all over. Joe wiped his forehead with his napkin. Or maybe it was just too warm for a suit and tie.

  “How about Dom Perignon?” Julie asked. “I’ve always wanted to try some.”

  “Fine.” Joe signaled the waiter and placed the order. Champagne was champagne to him. All things equal, he’d rather have a Budweiser.

  “So tell me about the bright lights and the big cities,” Julie said as she guzzled Dom. At this rate she’d be loopy before the main course. Joe nudged the bread basket her way, but she just kept staring at him over the rim of her glass, waiting for an answer.

  “Not much to tell. You don’t see a lot of a town when you’re on the road.”

  “No? I always thought you guys got star treatment. The best bars, the best restaurants, limos, champagne.”

  Joe resisted the urge to roll his eyes. She was so young. “Not exactly. You zoom in a few days before a game. Practice so you know the field. Eat at the hotel. Rest as much as you can in another strange bed. And try to focus your mind on your job.”

  Her smile became a pout. “That doesn’t sound like the party-loving Wildman I’ve heard about.”

  “I admit I did my share of partying in my youth.”

  She lifted the bottle in a toast before pouring herself another glass. “So I hear. You’re going to have slim pickings around here. This town is hick-ville.”

  “I find it charming.”

  She laughed, too loud, and the few patrons in the restaurant glanced their way. “Charming? As in ‘Prince’? That’s my plan, Wildman. You’re my Prince Charming.”

  Joe frowned. He didn’t like talk of plans. Of course, he had one, but that didn’t count. His was wholesome and American. He had a feeling Julie’s was anything but.

  He downed his champagne and refilled his glass, more to keep Julie from drinking than because he liked the stuff. Seventy-five dollars a bottle. Jeez.

  Their salads arrived, and Joe dug in. Julie picked at hers. He wished she’d eat, but he suspected eating wasn’t an option in that dress.

  “So what are your plans, Julie? Your hopes and your dreams?”

  “They’re all the same. Get outta this dump.”

  Joe glanced around, hoping the waiter wasn’t nearby. “This is a nice restaurant.”

  “It’s the best in town, which isn’t saying much. But I meant get outta town. When you go, I plan to go with you.”

  Joe choked on a cherry tomato, took a gulp of champagne and choked some more. When he finally got his breath back he shook his head. “Julie, I’m not going anywhere. I’ve come to Oak Grove to stay. I plan to settle down, have a family.”

  Her bull’s-eye red mouth fell open. “No way.”

  “Yes, way.”

  She ran a fingertip down the back of his hand where it rested on the table. He felt nothing.

  “I could change your mind. Just think of how impressed everyone would be if you showed up with a young, gorgeous wife. You’d look like the stud I’m sure you are.”

  Actually, he’d look like the idiot he was. Joe sighed. “I think we’ve misunderstood each other’s motives. I want a woman to spend the rest of my life with. And I plan to spend it here, in Oak Grove. I want more kids. A dog, even. The American dream.”

  Julie shuddered. “You mean ‘nightmare.’ Let me clue you in, Joe. You won’t find a woman who wants to share that dream within fifty miles of here. We all want out.” She tipped back the last of her champagne. “Preferably yesterday.”

  *

  Chapter Eleven

  Joe kept trying. He’d never been a quitter. But after several weeks, and many more dates, he had to admit Julie was right. Every single woman in Oak Grove only wanted out.

  Dating became a chore, like a job he despised. Since Joe hadn’t had a job he hated this much since he was fourteen and spent the summer baling hay—a dirty, sweaty, backbreaking, soul-smashing job—he didn’t know how to handle the helpless despair that came over him when he discovered his dream was everyone else’s nightmare. The unaccustomed feeling of failure kept him awake nights, which only made his aching loneliness worse.

  He was busy enough. He had T-ball games and practice, and Big League games and practice. The little kids had no idea who he was—or, rather, had been. They just liked him, and Joe liked them. The big kids had taken a few days to warm up. They’d gotten his autograph, tiptoed around, asked him about star teammates, then got back to business. Even the kids on Toni’s team now seemed to see him as just another dad. Joe was glad.

  To be honest, he probably scheduled more practices than necessary just to have something to do.

  But it was summer; his kids were bored, too, and they didn’t seem to mind.

  What Joe minded was the continuing interest in his team, Evie’s team and the silly bet they’d made. Attendance at T-ball increa
sed, his Big League games were standing-room only and Evie’s weren’t much better. Every week or so a camera crew showed up and filmed a game, or the kid reporter who had written the first story on the school board meeting wrote another article, keeping the bet the talk of the town. Joe had to figure Mrs. Larson spent her spare time piling kindling on the already smoldering fire between Evie and him.

  He even got a letter from the president of OGCC, thanking him for being such a team player, which made Joe feel like a fraud. He had no one to blame but himself, his overblown sense of competition—and his secret desire to rescue damsels in distress, even when they spit in his eye. The fact that he had no one to talk to about how he felt made Joe lonelier than ever.

  Toni spent as much time with her team as Joe spent with his. Then there was Adam, hogging all her attention—not to mention the days and evenings she spent in the Vaughn household. Heck, she was over there right now. Joe was supposed to meet her at the game. Even when Joe managed to catch Toni home for an hour or two, all he heard was “Coach this” and “Coach that” or “Mrs. Vaughn says…” blah, blah, blah.

  It took Joe awhile before he admitted he was jealous of Evie’s relationship with his little girl—a selfish reaction. Obviously, Toni needed a woman in her life right now. But along with dreams of a family and a white-picket fence, Joe had harbored dreams of a special friendship with his daughter.

  “So much for every dream I’ve ever had,” Joe muttered as he pulled into the parking lot of Oak Grove’s only grocery store.

  The one thing he’d discovered joy in was cooking. Go figure. Someone had to do it, and the shopping, and the cleaning. He could hire a housekeeper, but why, when he really didn’t mind the work? Besides, he didn’t want anyone hovering about and interfering with the small amount of time he did get with Toni.

  That she seemed to enjoy what he prepared and was proud that he wasn’t all thumbs in the kitchen made Joe continue to hone his newly discovered homemaking skills. In fact, whenever Toni caught him at something domestic, she smiled as though he was doing something clever and cute. He lived for those smiles.