Amber's Ace

by Taryn Kincaid

  He had a bunch of little ones in tow, some still afraid of the water, and was teaching them to dip their toes in, to accustom them to the chill, to teach them to be less fearful.

  As one small cub named Danny stood timid and tearful on the bank, an older boy, Joey, came up from behind and pushed the youngster into the spring then stood on the shore, taunting the small one and howling with laughter.

  “Come on, guys, let’s show him how it’s done.” Riley picked up two of the smaller kids, and holding each securely in an arm, ran with them to the edge of the bank, jumping in with a howl and crazy shout like Robert Redford plunging off a cliff in the iconic scene from Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Splashing around in the water, the kids climbed his back and shoulders, chortling. He gathered all the wet boys to him in a giant bear hug.

  The boy on the bank frowned, the tables turned on him. The ones in the water had fun while he remained stuck on dry land.

  “Why’d you do that?” Joey demanded of Riley as he climbed out of the water, the other kids clinging to his arms, legs, and back like giggling monkeys.

  “To teach you something about compassion,” Riley said. “Because we don’t make fun of our friends and our teammates, especially not when they’re littler than we are, and when they’re afraid. We don’t make them cry or bully them. We’re a team. All for one and one for all. We have each other’s backs, all the time. We don’t do things like pushing someone under the bus. Or into the water when he’s not ready to go.”

  “Okay, I get it.” Joey picked up the smaller boy, patting him all over to make sure he was all right. “I’m so sorry, Danny. Friends?”

  The littler cub looked at Riley. When Riley nodded, he turned to the other boy again, nodded tearfully then wiped his eyes and sniffed.

  “I’ve got you, Danny,” Joey declared. “We’re pack.”

  As the scene unfolded, Amber approached them carrying the pile of towels he’d stacked nearby and, to Riley’s shock, handed them out to the little boys.

  “I like what you did,” she whispered to him. “And what you said. Especially about watching out for each other. It’s like me and Garnet. That’s how we got by when…. You know.”

  He took a towel from her and dried off, trying to meet her eyes. Her gaze focused on his bare chest, and a rosy blush spread across her cheeks. His wolf preened beneath her regard, and he scented her heightened interest. Placing two fingers beneath her chin, he lifted her face. Their eyes met. For a split second, she showed him her longing. His wolf leaped with ecstatic joy.

  Mate, the wolf growled. Claim.

  Careful. Riley tamped down his excitement. “I’ll have your back, too, Amber. Always. Whether or not you’re ready to let me be more…to ever acknowledge the link between us. I’ll always look out for you, angel. Do my best to protect you.”

  She sighed. “I have two brothers who do that, already.”

  “Yeah, I know. I’ve met them. They send me killing looks whenever they see me in Gee’s.”

  “Are they giving you a hard time?”

  “Nothing I can’t handle.” Wow. They were actually having a conversation. Something he’d done had impressed her. A minor thing, not even as big a deal as his record-breaking consecutive string of strikeouts or his multiple Cy Young Awards. He’d never had such trouble getting to first base with a female in his life. “Besides…it’s my job, not theirs. To protect you. That’s what mates do.”

  “Mate?” she echoed. A gaggle of conflicting emotions, ranging from longing to fright, chased each other across her features. She took a deep breath, and he watched with relief as she deliberately stifled the brief panic shaking her. She gazed at him, a little stunned, a lot intrigued. “You think that’s what you are?”

  “I know it.”

  “You’re that sure?”

  “Hells yeah. Never been more certain of anything, angel face. And I’m pretty sure you know it, too.”

  She kept studying him, denying nothing. Her scent hit him full-on, a fresh, perfect blend of flowers and spring, mixed with the homey perfume of all his favorite foods and the lure of his most secretly craved sweets. His wolf sat up again, excited and aroused, like another part of him. Jesus. The wolf’s claws pricked at Riley’s skin in a fervor to get at its mate. Down boy. He’d vowed to take it as slow as she needed, given her history, but damn, she killed him a little more every day. Goddess, his cock ached. Difficult to hide his throbbing erection from her with just a towel.

  He quickly turned away so she couldn’t see the immediate effect she had on him. “Your brothers don’t give me half as hard a time as you do, angel.”

  A few days later, she returned, dragging a bat in an awkward, unwieldy fashion.

  He shut his eyes, offering a prayer to the baseball gods that they would not take it out on her for using the sacred instrument with such disrespect.

  “You don’t know what you’re doing, do you?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “Miss Lonnie asked me if I’d bring it to you on my way home. Owen from the lumber mill dropped it off.”

  “I ordered a few from him.” He scratched his head. “Strange he brought it to Miss Lonnie.”

  Amber shrugged. “Well, I guess I’ll see you later.”

  “No. Wait.” He grabbed her hand without thinking, but she didn’t flinch away from him. “Come. I’ll show you,” he said more gently. “Use you for a model to demonstrate to the cubs the proper way to hold the bat.”

  She stood still as a statue, but let him put his arms around her, her hands rigid on the bat. He sucked in the delicious scent of her. She dragged in a deep, shaky breath, and when she leaned against his chest, her body suddenly relaxing, he suspected she was doing the same.

  “I won’t hurt you, angel,” he murmured into her ear. “Never.”

  “I know. I….” She sighed and rubbed her cheek against his neck. He tightened his arms around her in tiny increments. Carefully, he placed his hands on her forearms and positioned her properly. His voice raw and gruffer than steel wool, he somehow managed to give the kids a short lesson. With his hands guiding her, she swatted a pop fly and chortled gleefully as she watched the ball sail away.

  With pride, he watched her happy gaze follow the arc of the horsehide sphere. Then she turned to him, her face aglow, grin broad.

  “Thank you for that, Riley,” she murmured. “No one else…. No one really tries.”

  “Always, angel.”

  She nodded then scampered away.

  So…progress. Slight, maybe, but he’d take what he could get.

  Riley shook himself back to the present and studied the delectable array again. His nose twitched at the aromas wafting up from the baskets. He took a step away from the table. Hot and sweaty from chopping trees and clearing the outfield all morning, he didn’t want to drip perspiration on the pretty creations, some gaily festooned with ribbons and cloth napkins, others with colorful see-through cellophane. Well, they weren’t all so pretty, he amended. Some basically consisted of postcards, stating what was up for bid and from what member of the pack.

  Drew’s mate, Betty, had balked at the idea of an auction where the males alone would bid on the females’ picnic baskets, vying for the honor of sharing a picnic blanket and lunch.

  “Hey, this isn’t a fifties Rodgers and Hammerstein musical, and Los Lobos isn’t Oklahoma! The dominant males may think they run the show in pack territory, but could we get any more chauvinistic than that? We women should be able to bid, too. I know some of the males must have talent.”

  Drew had agreed, and a number of males had tossed in contributions of their own particular specialties, culinary or otherwise. Brick Northridge, for example, would award his highest bidder a commissioned sculpture. Chance Northridge had fired up a barbecue grill where slabs of steak and fat hamburgers would soon sizzle for his winner’s extended family.

  At the less than subtle urging of Miss Claire, Riley himself had spent long ho
urs deep in the woods near Hidden Maiden Creek, sifting through moonlit waters for the most perfect polished pebbles and colored gemstones he could find, one particular female in mind.

  With the help of the older woman and Miss Fern, he’d painstakingly arranged them in a glass globe that showed them off to advantage. The colorful gems and smooth, semi-precious stones fairly glowed, when the sun—or moon—hit the globe the right way. He only hoped the dazzling finished product wouldn’t attract other bidders. He was only interested in one particular customer.

  Just as only one special picnic basket interested Riley.

  “Here you go, son.” Miss Kathy appeared at his side and shoved a towel into his hands. “Mop up.” She winked at him. “We wouldn’t want you getting anyone’s, um, cookies a little too moist.”

  “Thanks, Miss K.” He rubbed his damp hair, blotted his chest, and then slung the towel around his neck.

  The older woman snatched it back from him. “If you’ve got it, flaunt it, I always say. And you have got it, Riley Morgan. Maybe you’ve only got eyes for one female, but the rest of us have eyes for you. Don’t deprive us of seeing that smokin’ eight-pack on display.”

  Gah. He stifled his ready retort. He had to remember that this woman, outspoken as Ryker was taciturn, was the enforcer’s aunt.

  He dragged his bent left hand through his hair as Miss Kathy sidled away, no doubt to foment more mischief somewhere else. As she vacated the spot, Miss Claire materialized at his elbow.

  “This way, young man.” She steered him down the table, stopping in front of a woven basket, lined and decorated with plaid gingham kitchen cloths. “Looks good, doesn’t it? Take a whiff, Riley.”

  Despite his new life in Los Lobos, a shudder rippled down his back. “Never say the word ‘whiff’ to a professional ball player, Miss Claire.”

  The older woman laughed. “Take a deep breath, then.”

  No need for that. His mate’s essence enveloped him. Spicy but down-home all at the same time, like a Thanksgiving banquet, biscuits and gravy, pumpkin pie with candied pecans, cinnamon and ginger, and the dark sugar of real Vermont maple syrup, the tang of frosty root beer. His mouth watered. Was it his imagination, or were the napkins lining the basket in New York Kings colors of navy and white?

  “Don’t tell anyone I said so,” Miss Claire confided, “but that girl’s fried chicken is even better than mine. Your fingers won’t be all you’ll be lickin’.”

  “You’re making me drool.”

  “Good.” She patted his bare shoulder then winked and handed him a clean, blue chambray work shirt, perfectly laundered and ironed. “You might want to cover those muscles up and save the surprise.”

  “Miss Kathy just told me to flaunt ’em.”

  “Maybe another time,” Miss Claire laughed. “But we’ve got other plans for you today. Wouldn’t want to give the young lady a heart attack, just when she’s beginning to warm up to you a little.”

  “Is she?” Jeeze. Could he sound any more eager? He glanced around. “Do you think so?” Gah. Was he in frickin’ high school, for Goddess’ sake?

  Miss Claire chortled and patted him again, his denimed rear this time. “Hope you brought enough cash, big guy. I suspect her brothers won’t let her go cheap. If at all.”

  She nodded toward the area where Chance had the barbecue grill set up. Brick stood next to him, the pair of Northridge males deep in conversation and apparently comparing the state of their wallets while their mates, Julie and Summer, made faces at them.

  “I was afraid of that.”

  “I’m sure you’ll manage. That slow, sexy smile of yours is like nothing I’ve ever seen before. Guaranteed to melt titanium.” Miss Claire winked again and sidled away.

  He turned from the table with a sigh and received the shock of his life. Well, maybe the second shock of his life.

  “You’d be interested in that basket, you think?” Amber stood toe-to-toe with him, her brow creased, expression fierce and intent. Anxious. She barely reached his shoulder.

  “How would you feel about that, angel face?”

  She bit her lower lip. “I didn’t want to do this at all. The ladies talked me into it. I’m worried no one will bid.”

  “I think your brothers have that covered.”

  “Besides them, I mean. I’ve talked to them about how humiliating that would be, but sometimes they’ve got wooden blocks for ears. Not to mention heads. Julie and Summer don’t want them to embarrass me, and they want to picnic with their own mates, besides. I don’t know which would be worse. Them trying to outdo each other with extravagant bidding, or no one else having any interest at all.”

  “Are you serious, angel face? A male would be a fool to let you escape him.” The moment the words left his mouth, he could have kicked himself. About the worst phrase he could have chosen. He shook his head. No. He would not let her flinch away from him this time. Deliberately, he reached out to squeeze her shoulder. “You know what I meant,” he growled.

  “Everyone knows my history,” she said miserably. “I know you do.”

  “Goddess, Amber. Do you think I care about that?” Mate. Protect. Comfort. “Only because you’ve been hurt, angel. That makes me murderous. Drives my wolf crazy.” His vow faded into mist, and he curled an arm around her shoulders, pulling her toward him. She stiffened for an instant then leaned her cheek against his chest and let him hold her. He tightened the embrace, folding her into him and resting his chin on the top of her head.

  Goddess. Heaven.

  Across the field, her brothers stiffened, ready to pounce.

  “Forget about them,” she whispered, as if reading his mind.

  “They’re forgotten. So is anyone else who has the dumb idea of coming between us.” He inhaled the fragrance of her hair and sighed.

  “I love the way you smell,” she murmured into his shirt. “Like summer. Like sunshine. Like….”

  “Like mate?”

  “You’ll bid, then, Riley? I-I want to share my blanket with you.” Her head sprang up so abruptly she hit the edge of his jaw. She clamped a hand over her mouth and stared at him. “Oh! I mean…. I didn’t mean….” Her cheeks flamed.

  He ignored her chagrin and tucked her back against him again. The hell with the lethal glares her brothers aimed his way, or the curious looks his public display garnered from the rest of the pack. He wanted to claim this female, and he wanted everyone to know it.

  “I got what you meant, angel face. I’d be totally proud and honored to have lunch with you today, sweetheart. See how that goes? Baby steps. I’m a patient guy. When I was on the mound, I’d shake off a catcher’s signs till the cows came home, waiting for the call I wanted. It’s important it’s right for you, Amber. I get that. I’ll give you as long as you need.”

  He stifled the inner grumbling of his wolf. The beast butted its head into his ribs in furious reaction to his words. The wolf wanted its mate. Now. Today. “Today,” he echoed aloud. “Tomorrow. Next year. As long as it takes. That’s a promise. But I’m persistent, and one day, angel, we are gonna share more than a picnic blanket. That’s a promise, too.”

  Chapter Seven

  And, just like that, from a brief, covert wallow in his delicious scent and furtive snuggle against his hard-muscled chest in front of the long picnic basket display table, she was all of a sudden with Riley. Very much with Riley. A few of the young females around her age aimed venomous scowls in her direction. A few of the young males snickered behind their hands. The rest of the pack offered winks and sly smiles but otherwise steered clear of the newly minted pair, giving them all the distance they needed.

  Riley did, too, acting like a female whisperer trying to encourage and lure a feral Amber back to the fold and into his arms. Her mate was good. He was very, very good. He apparently knew just how to handle a woman. Or, at least, a woman like Amber. He’d give her space and let her pull away from him…to a point. Then he’d carefully reel her b
ack in. Gradually, a deep sense of comfort replaced her anxiety and fear. Apart from the excitement and arousal she experienced when close to him, he represented security. A sense of well-being. Of home. Home was in his arms. And at last, she was safe at home.

  “Protect,” he whispered into her ear. “That’s what mates do.”

  She sighed. “You seem so sure.”

  “I am.” His deep voice reverberated with certainty. “Aren’t you?”

  “I can’t breathe when I’m near you. Everything inside me quivers and shakes. I melt. When you touch me, it’s like an electric shock pulses through me. But…I feel restful and at peace, too. Is that how it is for you?”

  “From the day I first saw you at Hidden Maiden Creek, lying on the bank like an angel aglow beneath the sun. Before that, even.”

  “Before?” She wrinkled her nose. “How can that be?”

  “I heard you,” he said, hesitation in his voice. He stared at her, shaking his head and shifting his weight, clearly uncertain what words to choose. “Soon,” he said at last. “You haven’t guessed yet, but I’ll tell you soon enough.”

  Amber sifted through his words, trying to ferret out their meaning. Before? He heard her? She was certain they’d never met. What did he mean?

  “But right now, ah, my angel.” He inhaled deeply. “Your scent is so delicious to me I want to lie down in it and roll around. That part I can’t explain.”

  “That part I totally get.” She shot him a smile. When he returned it, with that long, sweet slow grin of his, every molecule of oxygen left her lungs. Breathless did not begin to describe his effect on her.

  They walked around the field, several times, making circuit after circuit, lost in each other, in their private conversation. When he spoke to her, he met her gaze full-on, and the warmth in his ice-granite eyes thrilled her.

  “It doesn’t bother you that I’m…that I’ve been…I’m damaged goods, Riley?”