She swore it had glowed in a ray of light cast straight from heaven. It was probably the same feeling other women had when they saw a pair of designer shoes—helpless, stuck under some kind of spell. Then, before you know what’s happened, you’re handing over your credit card and in a distant reality hearing the cashier say, “That’ll be two hundred dollars, please.”
The dark look on Bryce’s face only proved he wouldn’t understand. He stood upright and posted his hands on his hips, the muscles in his arms tensing. “You do realize you’re not playing today, right?”
Suddenly, she felt like a little girl about to receive a stern lecture from her father. She should know. She’d endured plenty of them. Only, Bryce was not her father. “Of course I’m playing.”
He lowered his head so they were eyes to eyes, nose to nose. “You have a concussion. You have to take it easy.”
Dangerous. Having his lips so close was downright dangerous. “I will take it easy,” she said, forcing herself to stay put even though she wanted to step back and inch some safe distance between them. “I can play the outfield.” Lord knew not many people around here could hit it all the way to the grass, but at least she’d be out there. At least she’d be part of the team.
His frown softened into amusement. “Avery.”
Her joints melted at the affectionate way he said her name. Oh, heaven help her. He’d used his Moose voice.
His eyes took on a gentle sheen as he gazed down at her. “I’m sorry. I can’t let you play.”
But… She felt the weight of the new glove in her backpack. She had to use it. She had to put it on and test it out. “I feel great.” She danced a quick version of the electric slide to prove it. “See? Nothing hurts. No pain at all.”
Bryce’s lips folded like he was trying not to laugh. “You can come and watch. But you’re not playing. Got it?”
“I hate watching,” she whined.
He took her shoulders in those powerful hands and tugged her closer until their eyes connected. The amusement that had lifted his facial features only seconds before fell flat. “I can’t let anything happen to you. You can’t risk it with a head injury.”
His tone was too weighted for her to argue. It sounded too much like fear. Real, deep fear.
“Fine,” she huffed. “I’ll watch, then.”
“You can take stats for me,” he offered with a consoling smile.
“Great. That’s way more fun than being out on the field.” But the little sparkles dancing in her chest made it hard to sound grumpy. He was worried about her. Which meant he cared, right? At least he wasn’t benching her because he didn’t want her around this time.
Still feigning a good pout, she scooted down the hall. Bryce hovered one step behind her, all tense and protective, like he was afraid she might fall over backward. She bunched her lips to ward off a smile. Maybe she should—accidentally tip over and land right in his arms.
Except, judging from his uptight attitude about head injuries, he would miss the humor, yet again.
They crossed the foyer. He slipped in front of her, opened the front door, and lightly touched his hand to the small of her back. The warmth from his palm radiated through her and heightened her senses. He smelled like freedom, like the freshness of the woods outside.
“Take it easy. These steps are loose.” His hand pressed into her back and started the palpitations again. Hmmm. She could easily stumble and land right on him again…
But his hands supported her as he guided her down the porch steps and over to the truck.
“Mmmmwufff.” Moose vaulted out of the forest and galloped toward them in his enthusiastic you’re-my-two-favorite-people-in-the-entire-universe!!!! way.
Bryce secured an arm around her like he was preparing for impact.
Wow. She could stay like that forever, pressed up against him, feeling those solid muscles instead of gawking at them.
Sure enough, Moose’s head collided with their legs, but the impact didn’t faze her. Not at all.
Laughing, Bryce kept her upright. “Sorry about that. Not much I can do. He likes you.”
“I like him, too.” She lowered her hand, fluffed Moose’s ears, and was rewarded with a big ol’ lick all the way up her forearm.
“All right, boy.” Nudging Moose out of their way, Bryce led her around to the passenger side of the truck. He opened the door for her, took her hand in a tight grip, and helped her climb in.
“You good?” he asked.
“Yes.” She laughed. “Good God. You must really think I’m a klutz.”
His head tilted and his eyes met hers in a meaningful gaze. “I think a lot of things when I see you. But that’s not one of them.”
She resisted the urge to fan herself. Whew. Hot flash. Someone roll down a window…
Bryce slammed the door shut, leaving her to sit there and simmer while he got Moose settled in the back.
Finally, he climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine. “What d’you like to listen to?” He flicked on the radio, but she was too shocked to answer. He was acting like a boyfriend, and it all felt so intimate. The way he was watching out for her, helping her, caring about her…
He looked over, waiting.
“Whatever you like,” was all she could get out. She’d never been picky about music, although the way Bryce was making her feel, she could’ve easily gone for something in the Barry White genre.
With a shrug, he flicked on the country music station he’d had on the other night. She didn’t recognize the song, but it felt right, sitting next to this man with tousled, carefree hair in his big, bad truck listening to a woman twang about her lost love.
Except it wasn’t right. She’d started to care about him. Really care about him. She wanted to spend time with him, to let him know her, to know him—but what about him? She peered over at Bryce. He watched the road intently, took the curves slower than he had the last time she’d ridden with him, like he was afraid to jostle her.
Suddenly, her shoulders felt heavy.
The truck slowed and Bryce looked over. “Everything okay?”
“I’m not sure.” Because she didn’t know how to do this, how to let him touch her and be sweet to her and protect her without letting herself fall for him. She was teetering on the edge, held back by the knowledge of his unresolved pain, but also inching forward to think about the possibility of a future. And if she were to let go, what if the landing hurt too much?
Her stomach fluttered. Just her luck that the nerves always hit there first. But she had to know. She had to ask him before this momentum between them pushed her off the cliff. “Bryce,” she said quietly enough to get his full attention.
“Yeah?” He bounced his gaze between her and the road. “What is it? Are you in pain?”
She shook her head, her hands gripping her knees. Forcing herself to look at him, she inhaled and held her breath until she felt strong enough to ask. “Are you still in love with Yvonne?”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. A familiar expression of guilt tightened his lips. He stared straight out the windshield, hands gripping the wheel tightly, steering to follow the curve of the road.
She turned away from him and gazed out the window, but the trees and the lovely Victorian houses that lined the highway all blurred together. “I shouldn’t have asked you that. I’m sorry,” she said. And she was. Sorry for both of them.
He’d shut down again, and that was the only answer she needed.
*
Bryce eased off the gas and let the truck crawl across the parking lot, but that still didn’t give him enough time to figure out how to answer Avery’s question.
Why’d she have to ask?
He silently cursed himself. He knew good and well why she had to ask. Because for the last half hour, he’d been treating her like they were on a date. He couldn’t help himself, not when it came to her.
She did things to him. Things no one else had ever done, not even Yvonne. There. He’
d said it. Guilt rose up in that familiar way, tightening his chest, making it hard to breathe.
He looked over at Avery and got a perfect view of the back of her head. Like the scenery in the parking lot was really fascinating. Damn it. What did she want him to say? He didn’t know. That was the truth. He just didn’t know. For as long as he could remember, it had been Yvonne. She was his best friend, his first love, so much a part of him that he still hardly recognized himself without her.
How could he say he wasn’t in love with her?
He pulled into a parking spot at the edge of the lot, but let the truck run.
Avery didn’t look at him. “I’ll see you down there,” she said like she was talking to one of her colleagues. Then she scooted out of the truck and slammed the door.
He cut the engine, but instead of getting out he sat and watched her walk away. He wanted to say yes. God, he wanted to say yes. She was worth a yes…
Outside his door, Moose barked and turned in circles. The dog couldn’t wait to tear down to the field to greet everyone, but Moose would never go without him. Guess that meant he’d have to get down there and face Avery.
He took his time unpacking the bat bags and extra water bottles for the yahoos who’d inevitably forgotten theirs, then schlepped it all down the hill. Avery already had a crowd of his best friends gathered around her. As he neared the bench, he caught snippets of their conversation.
“O.M.G., Avery!” Paige exclaimed. “What happened to your face? It looks horrible!”
He shook his head. Paige was always so subtle.
“Horseback riding accident,” Avery said and waved it off like it was nothing.
His fist clenched around the handle of the bag he was carrying. How could she be so flippant? Didn’t she understand the potential dangers of a head injury?
“That sucks.” Paige slumped on the bench next to her.
Avery wouldn’t look at him, but that was fine. Someone had to watch out for her. What if she got beaned in the head? Or what if she collided with someone again? He dug out his glove and snatched a ball, then trotted to the outfield to warm up.
“You acted like you knew nothing about her.” Shooter’s coarse voice trailed behind him.
He stopped and turned around, faking ignorance. “What?”
“Don’t play dumb, Walker. You expect me to believe you don’t know her that well? You were out riding with her this morning.”
Instead of answering, he jogged backward and tossed the ball at Shooter. “We should warm up.”
“But I can’t see her legs from here,” Shooter complained.
Bryce fought the urge to deck him. “We’re not here to stare at her legs.” His gaze wandered over to her. He couldn’t deny that it was a nice view, especially in those tight black pants…
“See?” Shooter jogged over to him and nudged his shoulder. “You can’t take your eyes off of her.”
“Sure I can.” He looked toward the outfield where Yates was trying to flirt with some woman on the other team, the poor jerk. He must’ve said something stupid because she flipped him off.
“Come on, Walker,” Shooter persisted. “I’ve seen that look before. You want her.”
His face started that burning flush, so he backed away and tossed the ball to Shooter again.
“Wait a minute.” His friend cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. “You already had her, didn’t you?”
“Had who?” Sawyer chimed in, jogging over. “Avery?” He didn’t wait for a response. “You and Avery, huh?” His cousin’s sly grin heckled him. “She’s way too good for you, bro.” Yep. Typical Sawyer. Since they’d grown up two miles away from each other, Sawyer had always felt like a brother. Most days he felt like an older brother who made fun of Bryce whenever he got the chance.
He shook his head. “You guys are nuts. You know that?” He held up his glove. “And you throw like a bunch of pansies.”
Even an insult didn’t distract them.
“You’re holding out on us.” Shooter stomped over and stabbed a pointer finger into Bryce’s chest. “You don’t look at a woman like that unless—”
“Unless you’ve done the deed,” Sawyer cut in with a solid shot to his shoulder. “What’d you do, Walker? Seduce her in the hospital?”
“You’re sick.” And alarmingly observant. He swiped the sweat from his forehead. Was it humid out tonight?
“So you wouldn’t care if I walked over there and grabbed her ass, then.” Shooter took a threatening step toward the bench. “Is that what you’re telling me?”
Sawyer’s eyes widened into a warning. They both knew Shooter did stupid shit like that every day.
Bryce dodged in front of him. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. She’s tougher than she looks.” And he might have to throw a punch if Shooter made good on that threat.
“I’m willing to chance it.” He took a few more steps.
Bryce chased him while Sawyer laughed his ass off.
“Fine. I like her. Is that what you want to hear?”
“Like her or want to hook up with her?” Shooter demanded.
He pounded the ball into his glove. These two were the last ones he wanted to discuss this with. Sawyer, who was madly in love with his new wife and Shooter, who was madly in love with every woman who walked past him. But it wasn’t like they were giving him much of a choice. “I like her. I’m interested, okay?”
“No offense, man.” Sawyer clapped a hand on his shoulder. “But she doesn’t seem too interested in you.”
“Yeah, well it’s been awhile since I’ve played the game.” He’d blown her off in the truck. That definitely didn’t score him any points. But before that, she’d gotten all red and flushed whenever he’d touched her…
“You should go for it, Walker.” Shooter’s smug expression relaxed into thoughtfulness.
His cousin glanced over at Avery and grinned at him. “Shooter’s right. It’s time. This is your chance to get back in the game, buddy.”
If only it was that easy.
Chapter Fifteen
Avery slipped the Minuzo Classic baseball glove on her hand, inhaling the musty scent of oiled leather. It fit her perfectly, snug and soft against her skin.
Squinting into the late afternoon sun, she analyzed the team’s lineup for the field. Paige stood on the pitcher’s mound again, right where she belonged. The woman threw quite the impressive curveball for someone who’d never played on a real team.
Shooter had been exiled to the outfield along with the other two maintenance workers. In her humble opinion, he belonged on first. For being such an oaf, he had quick reflexes. Instead, Sawyer stood near first base ogling his wife, who’d been assigned to second, which was actually pretty sweet, even if Sawyer seemed better suited to catcher.
Not that Bryce had asked her opinion on the team lineup. Hard to ask when someone won’t talk to you. Her question had shut him down faster than a hard-drive crash. Since he’d sauntered down to the field, he’d looked over her, past her, and through her. Never right at her. That didn’t stop her from looking at him, though. Her eyes had followed him around all night. At present, he stood between second and third base, playing one of the most important positions on the field: shortstop.
And she was stuck on the bench.
Leaning over, she snatched a ball off the ground and stuffed it into the glove. Wow. What a grip. With that glove on her hand, she’d be able to make any catch—high, low, wild… She pulled off the glove and ran her fingers over the soft leather. Not like she’d even get a chance to use it. After tonight, she wouldn’t go to any more of the Walker Mountain Ranch baseball games. She wouldn’t hang out with Bryce. She couldn’t. He messed with her head too much, which was bad enough, but he’d also started to mess with her heart…touching her, kissing her, being so protective. But Bryce could never be with anyone. Not really. His heart belonged to someone else, and she wanted more than being someone’s second best.
A beefy man from the other te
am—some insurance agency, judging by the sound of their name—strutted up to the plate.
Out on the mound, Paige wedged her toe into the dirt and assumed the pitcher’s stance. Avery couldn’t help but smile. She could relate to that competitive streak.
“You ready for this, Collins?” Paige called. “I’d hate to embarrass you like I did last year.”
“Shut up, Harper,” the man shot back. “Just toss the damn ball.”
“You got it.” She wound up and hurled it in fast and hard, so that it curved slightly just as it sailed over home plate.
Collins swung low but still connected, launching a pop fly that headed straight for Bryce. An easy jog toward third, and Bryce raised his glove to snag the ball, giving the team their first out. Everyone gathered around to congratulate him, give him a good whack on the back, while Bryce’s face lit with the wry smile she’d only seen when he hung out with his friends.
A heavy sigh welled up as she watched them out there. It reminded her of a scene out of one of those quaint Hallmark movies she’d secretly watched after a tough day at the office. The small-town community knit together by a connection to each other and to the place they called home. They obviously had a history, a bond.
And she was stuck on the bench.
Everyone jogged back to their zones and Paige struck out another man, who stomped back to his team’s dugout.
The team cheered again. Shooter plowed over and lifted Paige off the ground, hoisting her onto his shoulders and parading in a circle around the mound while she beat him with her fists and demanded he put her down.
Avery mustered a smile to cover up a yawning hollow feeling. Watching them only amplified the emptiness of her own life. She lived on the fringes of relationships, working nonstop—for what? For her father?
Sure, she had friends. People liked her. She was good at her job. And she’d dated some great guys, but it never went anywhere because she never let it. She preferred things less complicated, especially after watching Dad’s heart slowly die over the years.
No Better Man Page 15
