“Wait.” Kevin followed her into the hallway.
Maisy wanted to run and plead with them not to leave her alone with Sam. She was terrified she might throw herself at him like she had a few weeks ago. It took everything inside her to stay where she was.
He, on the other hand, looked relaxed, with his casual posture and his asymmetrical brows that didn’t even waver. He certainly didn’t look like a man who had shagged a woman for a career boost.
He took a long, even breath. “I know I’m the last person you want to see right now.”
“You do, do you?” Her tone was shrill. And the question was silly. Unlike him, she couldn’t keep the emotion out of her voice.
“I’m not proud of how I behaved that night.”
Which night? The night they’d made love? Was that what he was saying? That he regretted it?
“From the moment you opened the door, I did everything wrong,” he said.
Maisy felt like a gorilla was jumping on her chest. Was he going to admit that he should have pushed her away when she held up the tequila and threw herself at him? Explain that he didn’t want her and the feelings were one-sided?
He continued, “I was so tongue-tied. I should have said something.”
Her heart sank. Please shut up, Sam. She didn’t want to hear the sorry details. She rushed to cut him off. “You don’t have to make excuses. I practically attacked you and you had no choice.”
His head came up. “What are you talking about?”
She hesitated. “What are you talking about?”
“Jesus, Maisy. I’m talking about the night of the gala. I was an idiot for not telling you how beautiful you were right away.”
Her body shuddered, and the gorilla disappeared, leaving her light headed. It was such a relief that Sam didn’t regret their lovemaking that she almost forgot the other half of her anger. There was a bigger issue to discuss.
“Wait. How do you explain getting me to Indianapolis in the first place? Other than breaking your toe, you had it all planned, right? You arranged the tequila and the apartment. Just like Zoom said, you even slept with—”
He stepped toward her. “No! That was not planned. I swear it.”
“But Zoom said it himself. He joked with half the table that he told you to sleep with me if that would get me out to the stadium.”
Sam cast his eyes to the ceiling as if he were deciding what to say. When met her gaze, he spoke in a voice that was so low she wasn’t sure if he was talking to her or himself. “He did tell me that…I have to be honest.”
Honesty was something that should have happened already. It wasn’t something you started halfway through a relationship. It wasn’t something you started after you slept with someone. She moved to the back of the room and crouched down to pick up books that were scattered across the rug.
He followed her. “From the moment you handed me the channel changer and left Plato’s, I was unsettled. I told myself it was a good thing we never exchanged numbers or arranged to see each other.”
“You’re damn right it was,” Maisy said, stuffing the books one by one on the bookshelf in the back of the room. “Too bad you ruined everything by driving to Comeback and begging me to help the team.”
“When I found out that Kevin’s lucky ex-fiancée and the woman I met at the bar were one and the same, I was surprised — but glad. It gave me an excuse to see you again.”
“Why? So you could manipulate me because you knew I thought you were hot?”
Sam jerked his body upward. “You did?”
“It was fleeting.” Maisy stuffed the last book in the overcrowded bookshelf. She grabbed a pile of worksheets on a nearby table and reminded herself that, from the moment she met him, he had used her for his own gain. “So, the team has a real chance to win the pennant, I hear. Is that why you came today? You think you can seduce me again into coming back to the ballpark?”
“No. I am not here to seduce you and I didn’t mean any of that to happen the first time when I came in July. But Maisy, I’m a negotiator. I was trying to get you to the ballpark back then. I was trying very hard. It was part of my job.”
“Oh, do you get a medal for admitting it? Let’s get those photographers in here.” His honesty was only making things worse. She started moving around the room and placing the worksheets on each desk. “Get to the point, Sam. My kids will be back from art soon.”
“I’ve built my career making deals, Maisy. You already suspect why I was as happy to change the channel at Plato’s as you were. I’ve wanted to trade Kevin since I came to the club. The no-hitter blew that up. Then Zoom and the fans wanted you at the stadium again. I thought it was all superstitious nonsense.”
“It is superstitious nonsense!”
“I agree. Except for Faygo breaking my toe, I had it all planned. I reserved the apartment so you wouldn’t worry about expense. The school supplies were my idea. I tried to justify everything because I assumed if I got you to that Yankees game, it would be all be over when we lost. I even made a phone call to Luther—” He shook his head. “Let’s just say, I did what I needed to put the pressure on you.”
“Your sob story about being young and under pressure? That was a hoax, too, wasn’t it?”
Sam followed her down the aisle of desks. “Zoom loves to remind me of my youth all the time. He wasn’t going to fire me if I didn’t bring you back, though.
“By the time we got to Indy, I started feeling guilty. Before that game, I called the concierge and had them send up the bottle of tequila. I figured I owed you for putting you through that.”
She turned around and almost bumped noses with him. “And you got yourself a nice little perk with that tequila.”
He stuffed his hands in his pockets and lowered his brows. “No. I would never have planned that perk if I knew how much it might cost me. That night ruined everything.”
She swatted him in the chest with the remaining worksheets. “Ruined everything?”
His blue eyes captured hers. “From that night on, I stopped caring so much about wins and losses. It was you I couldn’t stop thinking about.”
Maisy put the stack of papers over her mouth to cover the smile that escaped. “You sure had an odd way of showing it the next night at the gala.”
“I’m not good with this man-woman stuff. I thought Kevin was what you wanted. I made my biggest mistake of all when I assumed you were still in love with him.”
She turned her back and laid down the last few worksheets. She wasn’t willing to give in. “How do you know I’m not over Kevin?”
“Because he’s a moron. And the Maisy I know now would never care about a moron. For all the years you two were together, he doesn’t have a clue who you are. I can’t believe I never saw it.”
She still couldn’t believe it herself. If only she could teach her students that young love was fleeting and sometimes just plain wrong. “How do you think I feel?”
Sam caught her shoulder and turned her around. His lips curled in that adorable boyish way that made her melt. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, Maisy. My guess is that being with Kevin when you were young was kind of like loving a bad-boy band. Now you’ve grown up and realized you weren’t really listening to the music.”
Her heart fluttered. Oh, Lord, this man had the power to grab it out of her chest with a phrase like that.
He raised her chin tenderly with his thumb. She could feel his warm breath on her face. “Regardless of what happens with the two of us, I am never letting you get back together with that man. You are way too smart for him.”
“You think so?”
“I know so.”
She lowered her eyes. “There are an awful lot of people who think I should get back together with Kevin so the Turbos can win the pennant this year.”
“People are shallow. Besides, the Turbos are
doing fine without you, so hopefully the fans will forget all about this insanity soon.”
She could hear her class coming back down the hall. They still hadn’t mastered the art of keeping their voices low.
She placed a hand on his chest. His heart was beating as fast as hers. “How can I be so sure that this new honesty isn’t some ploy to get me back to the stadium, Mr. General Manager?”
“Trust me.”
“Trust you?” she asked. “How?”
He wiggled a single brow. “ ‘All the world is made of faith, and trust, and…’ ”
“ ‘Pixie dust,’ ” she finished. “Impressive.”
He grinned and pointed to a poster above the door of Robin Williams holding Peter Pan. “I borrowed it.”
The kids entered the classroom. They were mildly curious about the visitor but much more excited about the gossip that had been flying around the school. “Miss Gray, did you hear? Kevin Halderman is here. He’s signing autographs on the playground after school.”
She turned to Sam and rolled her eyes.
He shrugged. “At least he can spell his name.”
***
The three o’clock bell was followed by the opening and closing of desks and the stampede for the door. Word had spread throughout the school that Kevin Halderman was waiting on the playground to sign autographs and give baseball pointers. Even the kids who didn’t follow baseball were excited.
Maisy was in no rush to witness Kevin wrapping himself in his cloak of adoring fans, so she stayed at her desk and graded papers. Or at least she tried.
Her mind kept wandering back to her conversation with Sam. When he’d said he wasn’t proud of himself that night, it had sounded like an apology. Now she was turned inside out. Was she too exposed now? What if it was all a lie? What if he was taking advantage of her to get her back to the stadium again?
He hadn’t sounded like he cared about her returning to the ballpark. And he seemed serious about never letting her get together with Kevin again. Even if it meant the Turbos might lose without her. That seemed really odd. Crazy, actually. The Turbos were on their way to a pennant. If she were Sam, even she would be trying to convince her to come to the ballpark.
She pushed away the pile of math quizzes and moved to the window. The baseball diamond was at the back of the playground. A clump of boys and girls stood behind the batter’s cage. Several kids were beyond in the outfield. She couldn’t see Kevin or the rest of the field, but she could imagine how awkwardly Kevin was trying to relate to kids.
“There you are,” Heather said from the doorway.
She jumped back and sat down at her desk. “Just grading papers.”
Heather nodded toward the window. “You really should see what’s happening out there.”
“Oh, I’m sure it’s quite a spectacle. But I’d rather pass.”
Heather walked over and stood beside her. Her eyes were harder than usual, her mouth turned down in an unusual expression of disappointment. “Hmmmmm.”
“What?”
“Even though you still haven’t told me anything, I know you are upset about that weekend you spent in Indianapolis,” Heather said. “But your kids are out on that baseball field having the time of their life. They’re playing a spontaneous game — no parents coaching, no rules about who can and can’t play, no fighting over the calls. It’s the kind of game you always want them to play. Why are you hiding up here?”
She was right, of course. It was so petty of Maisy to stay in her classroom like this. Even from here she could hear the cheers and whistles coming from the field.
“I guess I can finish this at home. I’ll take a quick look.”
Maisy stuffed the papers in her bag and followed a smug Heather out the door.
When she arrived at the field, she stopped and gazed at the scene before her.
Kids were laughing and calling encouragements to the batter, a second-grade girl. A man was standing next to her at home plate. Maisy blinked. Sam’s blue shirt and light gray pants were going to get dirty. His Cole Hahns were already covered in dust.
Where was Kevin? She didn’t see any sign of him.
Sam’s back was to her. She could hear him talking as he crouched down. “When you start out, just remember, the most important thing is to keep your eye on the ball.”
“What about the thtuff you told the older boyth?” she asked.
“That’s for when you get more comfortable with the eye part. Load. Stride. Swing. But you can wait a year or two if it feels too complicated.” He stepped back.
The little girl bit her lip and gave a hesitant demonstration, pausing at each movement to show that she knew what she was doing. She gave him a wavering smile that was missing two lower teeth. “What if I mith?”
“Most baseball players miss most of the time. But sometimes they send that ball flying over the fence.” Sam noticed Maisy and kept his gaze steady, his message clear. “Don’t worry about all the misses. Just focus on the ball.”
The second grader stared down at the Wiffle ball in his hand as if it were a hypnotic ball. If he laughed, Maisy didn’t hear it. He ruffled the top of her hair. “That’s right. Show these big guys in the outfield how it’s done.”
His no-nonsense tone was softer than he’d been with Jodie at the dinner table all those weeks ago. “I’m going to give you my best pitch. Don’t hurt me, slugger.”
“Come on, Tess. You can do it,” other kids cheered.
Sam jogged several yards away, tossed the plastic ball in the air, and caught it with the same hand. Dr. Harding had banned baseballs after a third grader had gotten his front teeth knocked out last year.
Anthony was on first base. He waved to her. “Hi, Miss Gray. Sam is giving us some tips.”
Sam lowered his brows. “No talking to the spectators, Anthony. I need you to focus on Tess here because she is about to hit the ball out of the park.”
Anthony grinned and adjusted his baseball cap. “Yes, sir.”
Sam made a big show of winding up. Then, he tossed the softest underhanded pitch Maisy had ever seen. It landed right on Tess’s outstretched bat. She swung. Sort of.
The ball rolled toward the pitcher’s mound. Sam didn’t pick it up. Instead he put his hands in his pockets and whistled as if he had all day. The third baseman scrambled over and grabbed it. Anthony missed the tag and Tess was safe.
Two kids in the outfield moaned. Sam turned around and waved. “I told you, I’m just the pitcher. It’s up to you to get the ball wherever it drops.”
As Maisy watched the game unfold, she felt a warm glow build inside her chest. He was a natural. He had a tip for each batter, whether it was a basic pointer like he’d given Tess or a more advanced pointer like he’d given Anthony.
It was nearly impossible to stay still. Maisy wanted to play so badly she curled her fingers inside a phantom mitt in her hand. When she could stand it no longer, she kicked off her heels and began to chase foul balls. Once, she couldn’t help herself, she tried to throw someone out at second.
Sam pointed his finger at her and warned her. “Don’t do it, Miss Gray. This is a kids’ only game. Even I can’t throw someone out.”
She complained, “Who made these rules?”
Anthony yelled, “We did. No grown-ups. Even you, Miss Gray. Just stand there and be lucky like you do best.”
She didn’t let that comment bother her. Instead she pretended to wave a magic wand on each batter. It was amazing to watch the kids cheering each other on. Even the slower, less nimble kids who rarely joined the games on the playground at lunch.
When everyone had had their turn and parents began picking up their children from the after-school club, Sam finally called the game.
“When can we do this again?” Anthony asked.
“With a real baseball?” a few of the boys added.
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Sam handed the boys the Wiffle ball. “Wiffle ball might be safer until you’re in middle school. You don’t need me here or a grown-up to organize any game. Just remember to give everyone a chance no matter where they are on their baseball journey and nobody will intervene.” It was almost word for word what she always told her students at recess.
“Even the girls?” one young man asked, wrinkling his nose.
Sam looked over at Maisy. “Especially the girls. You could learn a lot from them. Maybe one day, they’ll be softball stars.”
He gave a high five to the kids as they left. Anthony gave Maisy a sweaty hug. He stopped in her classroom for lunch occasionally. She loved sharing her sandwich with him. Then he ran to keep up with the rest of his friends. “He’s nicer than Halderman was by far,” he said before going out of earshot.
Sam sent her a winning smile. “I swear I didn’t pay him to say that.”
It was a warm day, and moisture beaded on Sam’s forehead. He looked more handsome than she had ever seen him.
“You were a big hit. You should visit schools more often,” she said.
“I do. The Turbos hold special camps for kids in Indianapolis. I go when I can.”
“Kevin, too?”
He chuckled. “Not Kevin.”
Maisy was irritated. “Where did he go this afternoon?”
“He left after giving a dozen autographs and posing for the cameras. Something about his mother...”
Someone laughed nearby. Maisy had forgotten about Heather. She’d been talking to parents on the sideline during the game. Now, she stepped beside Maisy and held her hand out to Sam. “We haven’t formally met. I’m Heather Mason.”
Sam raised an eyebrow. “The bar?”
“You got it, Ryan.”
“Ryan?”
She giggled. Maisy blinked. It had been a long time since she’d heard that kind of flirtatious sound coming from Heather. Heather caught Maisy’s raised eyebrow and gave her best Ryan Gosling impersonation. “Hey, girl, I’m not dead yet,” Heather said.
“That was pitiful,” Maisy said. Sam gazed from Heather to Maisy, not understanding the inside joke.
Come Back to the Ballpark, Maisy Gray Page 21
