by Raine Thomas
“I still say you should update your résumé and look for another position,” Hannah said.
Sierra’s intuition tingled when she saw the brief flicker of a reaction cross Zoe’s face. She sat up straighter.
“Well…” Zoe fiddled with a napkin. “Actually, another friend of mine mentioned this support position for an interior design firm in Buckhead.”
“Zoe, you should apply,” Sierra said.
“Yeah, what could it hurt?” Hannah echoed.
Sierra watched her usually self-assured friend stare down at the table. It looked like she might even be fighting off tears. She hadn’t ever seen Zoe cry.
Reaching over and putting her arm around Zoe, she asked, “Why wouldn’t you at least apply?”
“Because I have zero education or experience in interior design,” Zoe said, speaking quickly, as though she had to get all of her fears on the table.
“That’s not true,” Sierra argued. “You helped design my apartment, and you did yours, too. I’d be happy to take some shots of our places to start a portfolio.”
Zoe blinked at that. “A portfolio?”
“Yes!” Hannah declared with a nod. “You’ve totally got to try, Zoe.”
“But it’s crazy,” she said, waving her hands and nearly toppling her drink. “It’s so far outside of anything I’ve done before.”
“Hey,” Sierra said, reaching out and taking one of Zoe’s flailing hands. Hannah took the other. “Why not go out on a limb? That’s where the fruit is.”
This time, there was no mistaking the tears in Zoe’s eyes. “You two are the best friends ever.”
While Zoe dabbed her eyes with a corner of her napkin, Sierra took another bite of her quesadilla. She knew in her heart that Zoe was finally on the right path. It made her incredibly happy.
“And how’s our journalist-in-training?” she asked Hannah.
Wrinkling her nose, Hannah sighed. “I don’t know. I really thought I wanted to go into investigative journalism, but I just think it’s too cutthroat for me.”
Sierra silently agreed. Zoe wasn’t as subtle.
“You’re right,” she said. Before Sierra or Hannah could give her a look, she added, “But you’ll be one hell of a journalist, no matter what style you choose.”
Hannah beamed. “Thanks, Zoe.”
“Have you ever thought about sports journalism?” Sierra asked.
“Well, no.” Hannah’s brow wrinkled. “I guess it’s a path to consider.”
“You’d get to travel,” Sierra pointed out, knowing her friend loved to do that.
“And you’d meet lots of hot athletes,” Zoe added with an eyebrow wiggle. “Like third baseman Evan Dorsey.”
Her eyes widening, Hannah looked at Sierra. “Evan the sizzlin’ Aussie is a ballplayer?”
“Geez,” Zoe said with an eye roll. “If you do end up choosing sports journalism for your career path, you’re going to need to vastly improve your education in actual sports.”
Sierra smiled. “Yes, Evan’s a ballplayer. He was just traded to Atlanta from L.A.”
“Is he any good?” Hannah asked.
“Seriously—a lot of education,” Zoe said. “Like, ‘hole up for a week with Evan Dorsey and pick his brain’ kind of education.”
Hannah grinned. “Could I do more than pick his brain?”
“I’d have to object to that,” Sierra said with a lift of her hand. “I call dibs.”
“Yeah?” Zoe sat back in her chair. “You planning on jumping him soon?”
Sierra laughed. “Yes. But it’s more than that.” She wondered if she could possibly express what she’d felt since she first spotted Evan sitting alone at the wedding reception. “There’s this connection. It started the very first time we saw each other. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. We’ve still got a lot to learn about each other, but I can’t help but feel that he’s the one who’s meant for me.”
Zoe’s humor faded. “Are you serious? Sierra, you hardly know the guy. Are you telling me you love him?”
Sierra took a sip of her drink and looked her friends in the eyes, knowing they’d see her answer without her having to say anything. In light of how society approached relationships, she knew they thought she was nuts. People didn’t fall in love in an instant. But she knew love came in many forms, and started as a seed that grew over time. She also knew she could count on their support, regardless of what happened. They exchanged a look, Zoe’s brow furrowing.
Hannah’s mouth pursed in thought before she nodded. “Sierra, you have this weird sense about stuff like this. You’re the one who convinced me that it was time to move out of my dad’s trailer and find a place of my own, even though I didn’t have a job or a penny to my name. Now look at me.” She reached over and gave Sierra a hug. “I’m thrilled for you. Is it okay if I fantasize about him for a few weeks, though?”
Laughing again, Sierra nodded and looked at Zoe.
“Hell, you just convinced me to apply for a job I’m not remotely qualified for. If you say he’s the one for you, I believe you.”
Sierra was buoyed by the support of her friends. Although she felt confident in her feelings, it helped to have some encouragement. She returned home from the lunch feeling optimistic.
Since she smelled the cooking oil from the restaurant on her hair and skin, she took a shower and changed into a sleeveless cotton maxi-dress in swirls of green and gold. While she was brushing her hair, she heard Miller and Beck barking, followed by the faint thud of a door. She realized that Evan was home. There was something she wanted to run by him, so she put her brush down and hunted for a pair of sandals so she could pay him a visit.
When she walked out of the apartment’s only bedroom, she heard another sound, this one alerting her to the fact that Evan had opened the door to his balcony. It seemed it wouldn’t require a knock on his door to chat with him this time.
Opening the door to her own balcony, she stepped outside. The humid air hit her like a slap, but she breathed it in. Turning, she saw him watching her from where he stood on his own balcony. Seeing him made her smile.
“Hi, Evan. Don’t you need to get to the stadium?”
“I’m leaving after I walk the dogs.”
“Okay. Did you have fun with Cole?”
“Are you this chatty with all the neighbors?”
So, he was cranky. A new mood to learn.
“Yes,” she said.
He stared at her for another minute, his gaze moving from her damp hair to beneath the balcony railing where the wooden newels left enough room to see the bottom of her dress. He looked away without answering her question.
“I wanted to offer to look after Miller and Beck while you’re gone on your road trips this season. They get along so well with—”
“I’ve got someone handling it, thanks.”
Disappointment flashed through her. She’d been looking forward to having the dogs together. It hadn’t occurred to her that he might have already made arrangements.
“Oh. Okay.” She smiled anyway, figuring it couldn’t hurt when facing his dour expression. “Good luck at the game tonight.”
She went back inside and closed the door, leaning against it. Leo hurried up to her with his tail wagging. Kneeling down, she buried her face in his fur.
“Sorry, buddy,” she murmured. “I tried.”
Leo licked her cheek and whined in an expression of affection, making her smile again. He never failed to lift her spirits. Since she wasn’t going to be caring for Miller and Beck, she supposed she would use this upcoming road trip in a productive way.
She’d spend some time thinking about how she could break down the barrier that Evan seemed intent on keeping between them.
Chapter 10
The first game of the road trip resulted in an Atlanta win over Milwaukee. A number of the players decided to get together in the bar of their hotel afterwards. Evan allowed Cole to drag him along. He knew he needed to bond with his teammates
off the field as well as on.
“Seems like you’re settling into your new digs just fine, Dorsey,” Larry Uhre observed as he walked up to the bar and flagged down the bartender.
Evan glanced at the second baseman. He’d been on the same team as him and Cole in high school. Unlike him and Cole, though, Larry had hung around in the farm system until just the year before. From what Evan had seen so far, Larry was working hard to prove himself and stick around at this level.
“Yeah,” Evan agreed. “A long way from high school, isn’t it?”
“Damn straight. Who’d have thought that you, me, and Parker would end up on the same team again? Guess it’s a good thing I moved to second when I did, huh?”
Nodding, Evan took another drink of his beer. Larry had played third base for the high school junior varsity team for a couple of years. When he moved up to varsity, the coaches decided that because he was smaller and more agile than the other players, he’d be stronger at second. They brought Evan in at third after they made the change. That decision had changed the course of both of their careers for the better, Evan thought.
“That was one hell of a play in the top of the third, Dorsey,” said Theo Oxley, the first baseman. “I almost moved off the base because I was convinced you’d never get to the ball.”
“Yeah, man,” chimed in catcher Javier Rios. “You got bionic legs or somethin’? What the hell was that all about?”
Evan lifted his beer to his lips, pausing before he took a sip. “What can I say? I was in the zone.”
There was a collective sound of understanding as the group nodded and clanked glasses and bottles together in a form of acknowledgement. Nearly every ballplayer knew what it meant to be “in the zone.” When you were there, you could do no wrong. Every play seemed easy. Every pitch looked like a lobbed softball ripe for hitting. Every step around the bases felt effortless.
In fact, there was only one problem with being in the zone: you never knew when you’d fall out of it.
Over the past week since joining the team, Evan had been in the zone. Every game, he’d felt all but invincible. He was hitting three seventy-five over six games and had a perfect fielding percentage. Everything clicked for him.
He was living his dream…a dream his mother had planted and nurtured. As much as his performance excited him, he kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. When would his luck run out?
Because it always ran out.
“Hey, man,” Cole said, giving him a nudge with his elbow. “You all right?”
“Yeah.”
“Cool.”
Evan tuned back into the conversation flowing around him, which ranged from which teams were most likely to give them trouble before the postseason to which guys had made the most outrageous purchase that season. Anton Copernicki won because he’d bought his own island.
“For a hotel bar, the drinks are good here,” said left fielder Burke Richards as he strode up to take Larry’s place next to Evan and Cole along the bar.
“They sure are,” Cole agreed, lifting his Jack and Coke. “I think she’s been serving me doubles. This was more amber than brown when she handed it to me.”
“She must be a Milwaukee fan,” Evan said.
Burke’s brow wrinkled. “She’s being generous. Doesn’t that make her an Atlanta fan?”
Sipping his beer, Evan exchanged a look with Cole, who scowled into his drink.
“No,” Cole said. “It means she wants all of us hung over so we play poorly tomorrow. It’s a noon start out here, which means we have to be up at the butt-crack of dawn.”
“Wow,” Burke said, lifting his scotch on the rocks to look at how much booze was in his glass. “And here I just thought she was nice.”
Evan thought of Burke as a traditional Midwesterner. He was tall, stocky, and ruddy in complexion. His blond hair and blue eyes gave him a kind of All-American appeal. He was also quick with a handshake and an encouraging word. But he wasn’t the brightest crayon in the box.
“Take it easy on the Glenfiddich, Richards,” Evan cautioned.
“Yeah,” Burke said with a swirl of his drink. “Thanks, Dorsey. Listen, man, I just want to say I’m glad you ended up on our team. When Jensen went down, well, we all wondered what the hell would happen. You were the answer to our goddamn prayers.”
“Thanks,” Evan replied. “I appreciate the support.”
“You got it.” Burke lifted his glass. “Now I guess I’ll go and nurse this poison over on the other side of the bar. They’re prettier than you two.”
Evan and Cole followed his gaze and spotted a trio of attractive women sitting there. The women were groupies, fans who followed the team from city to city. Cole had mentioned them earlier to Evan, who knew to steer clear.
“Richards, don’t do anything stupid with one of them,” Cole warned under his breath. “Those are exactly the kind of women who file paternity suits, whether or not they’re real.”
Burke waved a hand in dismissal. “Yeah, yeah, Dad.”
They watched him walk off, his gait unsteady. It was clear that he wouldn’t be using his best judgment that evening.
“I sure hope he knows what he’s doing,” Cole said, taking a small sip of his drink.
“Let him be, mate.”
“I guess.” Cole’s gaze shifted. “Hey, Randy’s here. There’s something I wanted to discuss with him. Be right back.”
Since Randy had pitched the winning game that evening, Evan figured that Cole wanted to pick his brain about Milwaukee’s lineup. Cole was due to start the following day. Waving him off, Evan finished his beer and signaled for another.
He watched Burke strike up a conversation with the groupies. The women glanced in Evan’s direction more than once, which told him they weren’t as into Burke as Burke would like. They apparently conveyed enough interest in him that he pulled a chair up to their table, however.
Maybe that was what he needed, Evan thought. Maybe a night of mindless sex with an interested female would help him focus, take his mind of off…things.
“What can I get you?” the bartender asked.
Evan turned his attention to her. She wore her blonde hair back in a ponytail. He guessed she was in her late twenties to early thirties, but he was hardly the best judge of such things. Her outfit of a black leather vest over a white barmaid’s top and tight black leather pants left little to the imagination.
So why wasn’t his imagination working?
“Another beer, please,” he said, lifting his empty glass.
“You got it,” she said.
He watched her grab a new mug, hold it under the tap, and draw his beer. Once upon a time, someone like her would have had all of his juices flowing. For the past nine months, though, nothing had managed to do that.
Well, almost nothing.
Frowning, he glanced over at Cole. He thought of what his friend had said about Sierra asking about him and how she seemed interested in him. He considered what it would be like to once again open himself up to the vulnerability that came with growing attached to someone.
He knew he couldn’t do it.
“Here you go,” the bartender said, placing the new mug in front of him.
“So, you’re a Milwaukee fan, eh?” he asked before she could walk away.
“What?”
“Don’t worry. I can keep your secret.”
She hesitated, then tilted her head. “Australian, right?”
“You bet.”
Another customer called out from the other side of the bar. The bartender glanced over at him and gave him a smile before turning back to Evan.
“Lucky for you, I happen to think Aussies are hot. My shift ends in thirty minutes. You up to it?”
Taking another swig of beer, he swallowed and said, “I’m all yours.”
* * *
“My name is Haley.”
Evan nodded. He’d already garnered that much from her nametag. He couldn’t help but remember how the first time he’d me
t Sierra, she hadn’t felt any need to introduce herself. In fact, it was like he’d known her even without learning her name.
For the love of God, he told himself, stop thinking about her!
They stood in the elevator as it climbed to his floor. It had been a long time since he’d brought a female up to his room. He was lucky that his roommate was a young rookie who was still out partying and probably wouldn’t be back anytime soon.
“Aren’t you going to introduce yourself?” she asked.
He could tell from her tone that she was getting irritated. That wasn’t any good.
“Sorry,” he said. “Guess I’m a little off my game tonight. The name’s Evan.”
Her stern expression eased into a happier one. “Nice to meet you, Evan.”
They got off the elevator and headed to his room. He opened the door and stood aside to let her in. She left behind a hint of cigarette smoke and fryer grease when she passed.
“If you’d like to shower after your shift—” he began.
She gripped the front of his shirt and attacked his mouth the second the door closed. He tried to get into the kiss as she shoved him against the door. Her curves were in all the right places. She was attractive and really into him, if her current aggression was any indication.
But nothing in him responded to her.
When his cell phone rang, he considered it divine intervention. Breaking away from her mouth, he drew in a deep breath. She put her hands on his face to drag him back to her.
“Sorry—I really need to take this,” he said.
He ignored her frustrated huff and accepted the call without looking at the display, bringing the phone to his ear and walking a few steps away. He didn’t care if it was a telemarketer from Bangladesh, he’d chat like a happy man.
What a fucking mess he was.
“This is Dorsey.”
“Oh…hi, Mr. Dorsey,” came a male voice. “I didn’t expect you to answer. I was just going to leave a voicemail. Sorry to bother you so late.”
“Who is this?”
“Sorry. My name’s Geoff. I’m with Pampered Pawz.”
Ah. The dogsitting company that Larry Uhre had recommended. Evan hadn’t known the exact caregiver who had been assigned because he’d booked the service at the last minute. He’d asked to be contacted daily with updates on the dogs. For some reason, he had assumed it would be a female.
