Dan Alexander, Pitcher

by Jean C. Joachim

  “Oh, Dan, you’re here,” Nancy said, rushing forward to greet him, wiping her hands on her apron. He gave her a big hug and kissed the top of her head. Bud greeted him with a handshake.

  Holly appeared, wearing an uncertain smile. His eyes grew wide as they took her in from top to her luscious bottom. Her hair curled softly around her shoulders. The pink top that matched the flush in her cheeks dipped, enticing him to stare a moment too long at her cleavage. The snug jeans outlined her hips and her incredible ass. He wanted to squeeze it. His hands opened and closed once at his sides. He was speechless.

  “I think we already met. I’m Holly,” she said, extending her hand.

  His closed both of his around hers. “Yes. That’s right.”

  Their gazes connected. He picked up on the uncertainty in her face and stepped back, letting her go. Don’t crowd her. He’d never seen a woman shy away from him before. Most were eager for his attention, falling all over each other to get noticed. Holly appeared to be trying to blend into the background. No way could she go unnoticed with her looks and that outfit. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her.

  “I’d better check the potatoes,” Holly said, backing toward the kitchen.

  “How about a beer?” Bud asked.

  When Dan turned to reply, he saw a smug look on Nancy’s face.

  She wore a satisfied smile and raised her eyebrows at him. “Gorgeous, isn’t she?”

  Not easily embarrassed, nevertheless, Dan sensed heat rising to his face. He’d never thought of Nancy as a matchmaker before. Guess he’d been wrong. He reached for the brew Bud was offering and sat down on the sofa. This wasn’t going the way he’d expected at all.

  “Where’s Lisa?” he asked.

  As if on cue, the teen made her appearance. “Hi, Dan,” she mumbled, texting away madly on her phone.

  “Hi, Tweenie Bird.” He was proud of inventing that silly nickname. Will she still like it?

  She looked up and smiled at him. At least there was one female happy for some attention from him.

  Voices drifted out from the kitchen.

  “What are you doing in here?”

  “Turning the potatoes.”

  “Shoo! Go on. Get out there. Dan’s all alone on the sofa,” Nancy said.

  “But the potatoes,” Holly said.

  “The potatoes are fine. Go on, now.”

  Dan shifted in his seat, wondering why he was there if no one wanted to talk to him. Bud relaxed into his easy chair and brought the bottle to his mouth. Well, not exactly no one, simply not the right one.

  Holly joined them. The only seat available, as Lisa and Bud had taken the chairs, was the couch, next to Dan. She eased down and stared at her hands.

  “Glass of wine, Holly?” Bud asked.

  She nodded. He pushed up from his chair and poured her a merlot.

  “Thank you,” she said, taking the glass.

  “So, tell me. Where are you from?” Dan asked.

  “Nowhere,” she said, not glancing up at him.

  “Come on. Everyone’s from somewhere.”

  “New York City.”

  “A native?” He raised his eyebrows. “Not often you run into someone born and bred here.”

  She smiled.

  “Are you going to be a Hot Dog Girl for the rest of your life? Or do you have another career in mind?”

  Her head snapped up. “Hot Dog Girl?”

  “You know, a girl who sells hot dogs?”

  Her chin jutted out. “It’s an honorable profession.”

  “What did you do before you came to work for Bud?”

  Her face paled, and she swallowed.

  “I’m sorry, am I prying? I don’t think of these as personal questions, but if you’d rather not answer, I understand.”

  “Do you? You probably think I was a hooker. I wasn’t. Just want to make that clear.”

  “No, no, no. That thought never entered my mind,” he lied.

  “I’ll bet,” she muttered.

  Things weren’t going the way he had planned. Not that he’d expected to hit a home run, but he hadn’t imagined he’d strike out, either.

  “Where are you from?” she asked.

  “Indiana.”

  “Oh. Never been there.”

  “Lots of farmland.”

  “So, you’re a farmer?”

  “My family is. Third generation.”

  “Just a hayseed, then.”

  He grinned. “Maybe I was, but not anymore.”

  “The Hot Dog Girl and the Hayseed. Sounds like a country song.”

  He laughed along with her. Light came into her eyes, and her smile widened, revealing perfect teeth. He wanted to kiss her soft, pink lips. “Good one.”

  “What made you take up baseball?” She took a sip of her drink.

  As quickly as the clouds had gathered, shutting him out, they cleared. He told the story of his escape into baseball and finding that his talent propelled him into the major leagues and success. She hung on every word, never taking her gaze from his face. She asked intelligent questions too. He’d never been so mesmerized by a woman, simply because she was a good listener.

  Obviously, she’d rather listen to him than talk about herself. Unusual, he thought. Not a bad trait, for a chatty guy like him. Still, she intrigued him. A bit mysterious—made him want to know more about her. She might be cagey, but he wasn’t going to drop the ball. He had to know who she was and why she didn’t want to talk about her past. Obviously, he needed to find a better angle than the direct approach, which hadn’t worked worth spit.

  “Dinner’s ready. Please come to the table,” Nancy announced.

  Dan stood up and offered Holly his hand. She took it. Her grip on him was firm and strong, as she pushed to her feet. The skin under his thumb was soft and silky. He wanted to stroke it, but controlled the urge.

  * * * *

  Listening to Dan talk about his life gave Holly the chance to study his features. The straight lines of his nose and jaw were decisive, masculine. High cheekbones sculpted his face. When he finished, his eyes locked with hers and a chill stole up her spine. His stare was questioning and penetrating.

  When his gaze slid down to her lips, an overwhelming desire to kiss him gripped her. She tightened her fingers on the arm of the couch. Her breathing sped up for a moment before she could corral it. A spicy scent teased her nose. Mixed with the smell of a freshly ironed shirt, it acted like an aphrodisiac, raising heat in her.

  Horrified at her body’s reaction to this attractive man, she swallowed and prayed for an excuse to get away. When the call for dinner came, she exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She couldn’t refuse his help for standing. He pulled her up as if she were a feather. He was so strong that she had to arch away to keep from ending up in his arms.

  Sure, it had been a long time since she’d been with a man, but this wasn’t an ideal time to get involved with anyone. And what would happen when he found out she had been sleeping with a gangster, even though she hadn’t known know what Flash was at the time? A brief shudder ran through her. No, it wouldn’t be pretty, and she’d have a broken heart.

  But there was something so clean cut, so regular, and wholesome about Dan. He seemed like one of the good guys. Fearing to trust her own instincts, she hadn’t gotten close to anyone other than Jory and a few friends in Pine Grove. Nancy and Bud liked Dan, even Lisa did. He drew Holly like a magnet drew metal. Resisting wouldn’t be easy, but she had to try…didn’t she?

  Of course, Nancy sat Dan next to Holly. Her friend was so transparent in her attempt to get them together that the young woman could feel a blush climb into her cheeks every time she glanced at Nancy’s beaming face. Jory had told Bud the bare bones of Holly’s story. She was sure Nancy had no idea what scandal and bad press would rain down on Dan if they got involved and she was discovered.

  He didn’t deserve to be dragged through the mud with Holly. It was her mistake, her bad judgment, and she needed
to face it alone—when she was ready. She resolved then and there not to involve him. Her heart ached for a hug, just a hug, from him. Loneliness had seeped deep into her bones, and his attention drew her. The idea of physical affection from him warmed her, creating a need, long denied, that refused to take a backseat. She sighed, dreading bad days looming in her future.

  “You okay?” Dan looked over at her, giving her hand a squeeze.

  “Fine.”

  “Doesn’t sound like it.” His brows knit.

  “Thank you. Things are complicated for me. Life is, well, kind of messed up now. I can’t explain. Best to stay away from me.” She faced him.

  “I’ve never run from a challenge, and I don’t intend to start now,” he muttered, for her ears only. He stopped for a second then spoke again. “You don’t have a boyfriend, do you?”

  She grinned. “Nope. Wish it were that easy.”

  Nancy brought out the lamb and roasted potatoes. Holly’s stomach rumbled. She was starving and hadn’t seen or smelled anything that mouth-watering in ages. Well, except maybe for Dan Alexander.

  Bud had carved the tender, succulent meat in the kitchen. Well-browned potatoes rimmed the platter. Lisa carried a bowl of creamed spinach. Bud brought up the rear with Nancy’s special, cinnamon acorn squash.

  “This is a feast. Single guys like me never get to eat like this,” Dan said.

  “Pass me your plate,” Nancy said to the pitcher.

  The older woman doled out the food to her drooling fans. Everything was quiet for a while, except for the sound of forks and knives scraping against each other.

  Holly chewed slowly, savoring the richness of the flavor. Her mother never cooked. They always had a cook, a maid, a housekeeper, and a party planner—the list went on. The cook was talented, but meals were formal, never casual, like the Magee’s.

  She spied Dan cutting into his fourth piece of meat. He had a hearty appetite and put away more than twice the food she did. Watching him eat turned her on. He even chewed sexy. Holly wiped her mouth, put down her utensils, and stared at Dan.

  “What?” he asked, shoveling a piece of potato into his mouth.

  “I guess this really is your favorite meal.”

  “Yep. Don’t you like lamb?”

  “I love it. But I’ve had enough. I don’t want to get fat.”

  Dan’s gaze rolled over her. “No danger of that. You look perfect to me.”

  Pleasure flowed through her. When was the last time she’d gotten a compliment from a man? She couldn’t remember.

  “Tomorrow is Playland Day at the stadium,” Bud said, filling his fork with spinach.

  “What does that mean?” Holly asked.

  “Playland, the amusement park in Rye? They give out some free tickets and stuff, to the first hundred kids,” Bud answered.

  She nodded.

  “So, the stands will be full of kids. More work for you, Holly. They make a mess,” Bud continued.

  “That’s okay.”

  “I got a gold pass. Free admission and rides for four. Wanna go, Lisa?” her father asked.

  “Sure! Can I take three friends?”

  “No. You’re too young. You can go with your mom.”

  “No thanks. I’d rather stay home.”

  Silence floated over the room. Nancy pushed away from the table and excused herself.

  “Now look what you’ve done!” Bud said. “You’ve hurt your mother’s feelings.”

  “Dad, no one my age goes to Playland with their mom.”

  In a few minutes, Nancy returned. Her eyes were a bit bloodshot.

  Lisa stared at her plate. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

  Nancy waved her hand. “I get it. Teenagers. But you’re too young to go without an adult.”

  “Can I take her?” Holly asked.

  “On a day with no game, sure,” Bud said.

  Lisa jumped up and ran to the calendar. “Look. Next Tuesday. Staff development day. No school.”

  Nancy joined her daughter and checked out the date. “She’s right.”

  “I suppose I could get a replacement for you,” Bud said.

  “I’m not pitching. Can I come too?” Dan asked.

  Holly turned sharply to stare at him.

  “Why not? Then Lisa can bring a friend too,” Nancy said.

  “I’ll drive. Pick you guys up at noon?” Dan wiped his mouth and sat back.

  “Works for me,” Nancy said. “Holly?”

  “Sure. Why not?” She tried to smile. Is that a date?

  Dan grinned at her.

  “Can I be excused? I need to call Sarah,” Lisa said, her eyes shining, her smile wide.

  “Sure, honey, go ahead,” Bud said.

  “Thanks, Dad. Thanks, Mom.” Lisa stopped to hug her parents.

  “Yeah, thanks,” Dan said, eyeing Holly. “What’s your favorite ride?”

  “Dunno. Never been. What’s yours?”

  “The Tunnel of Love. AKA, The Olde Mill.”

  Chapter Five

  Holly strapped on her cart. She was selling enough now to pay for her own food. Bud loaded it up with hot dogs in buns, and she made her way to the stands. The Nighthawks were finishing up a three-game series with the Miami Sharks. The score was split, with each team winning one game. This was the rubber game of the match, and Dan Alexander was pitching.

  She smiled when Bud gave her a great location behind home plate. Secretly, she thought he was throwing them together just like Nancy had. If he was or he wasn’t, she’d have a great spot to check on the game when sales were slow. She put her hand over her heart as the national anthem played. It was easy to spot Dan on the field, as he was taller than the rest. Of course, the fact that his last name was plastered across the back of his uniform didn’t hurt either. He stood straight and tall, showing respect for the song.

  She’d gotten her hands on a copy of a Dummy’s book about baseball. She’d been reading every night since the leg of lamb dinner. Holly had never followed baseball and didn’t know much. But she knew a heckuva lot more now than she had four days ago.

  After all, the date for Playland was only two days away. She didn’t want to look stupid, asking a lot of ignorant questions about the sport. So, she’d read. Feeling confident she’d know a ball from a strike and a hit-and-run from a bunt play, Holly hawked her wares as she strolled up and down the steps.

  “Hot dogs! Get your hot dogs!”

  Dan took the mound and threw some warm-up pitches with Matt Jackson before the first batter showed up. She remembered that the home team had “last licks,” as it was called when she had been in elementary school.

  Her heart raced as she watched the big man take his wind-up. Caught between the desire to shut her eyes, afraid it would be a ball, and the wish to see him at work, she cracked one eye open. Bam! Strike one. She clapped once. When people around her turned to stare, she put her head down and rushed down the stairs to a man signaling for food.

  A cool breeze gave some relief from the hot, June sun as the teams battled it out on the field. The score was tied—nothing to nothing. She recognized this from her book as being “a pitcher’s duel.”

  Grim determination on Dan’s face made her stop walking to watch for a moment.

  “Lucky Larry Caterson’s batting, lady. He always gets a run off Alexander,” a man sitting in the stands said.

  Holly nodded. “Maybe not today,” she replied, crossing her fingers under the cart.

  A loud crack. Caterson had connected with the ball. It sailed up, up, speeding toward the warning track. Chet Candeleria in right field was running back, keeping his eye on the ball. The trajectory changed, and the ball started to drop as the fielder leaped into the air, arm stretched out all the way, glove open. The mitt closed on it as he fell to his knees, knocked down by the power of the hit and being off balance. He got up, waving his catch, and loped in toward second to throw the ball back to Dan. The fans went wild.

  Holly didn’t realize she had been holding her breat
h. A smile stretched her lips as she released air.

  “Definitely not today, lady,” the man said, grinning.

  She beamed at the pitcher. As if by telepathy, he turned and glanced up. Mortified, Holly jumped up and nestled her cart against her belly. “Hot dogs! Get yer hot dogs!” she called out, moving up the stairs.

  Dan continued to outfox the next two batters, and the Hawks came to bat. Nat Owens struck out, but Skip Quincy drew a walk. Bobby Hernandez sacrificed to right field, moving Skip to second base. Then, Jake Lawrence put one in the bleachers, and the Nighthawks moved ahead, two to nothing.

  Holly cheered, though it was hard to jump up and down wearing the cart. The top of the next inning was time for the seventh inning stretch. Dan strode out to the mound. After handing three hot dogs to a customer, she stood still, watching him. As the Miami fans sat down, he looked up, his gaze connecting with hers. He doffed his hat and smiled.

  She giggled as a tingle shot through her body.

  Fans turned to look at who he was signaling.

  “Can’t be her. She’s the hot dog lady,” one woman said to a man beside her.

  “She’s as hot as the dogs she’s selling,” he replied.

  “It’s her. It’s her. Hey, lady, can you get his autograph for me?” Another man held out a piece of paper.

  Holly glared at him then at Dan, who grinned. She headed back up the stairs. The camera zoomed in on her, flashing her image on the screen. Fortunately, she had her back turned as she marched up to the tier.

  “Hot dogs, get yer hot dogs!”

  She stole every minute she could to watch the game, hoping Bud wouldn’t see. Dan was masterful, appearing cool as ice on the mound, and totally focused. He and Matt Jackson functioned like a well-oiled machine. One time, when the count was two balls and one strike, Matt went out to have a conference with the pitcher. After a brief talk, Dan threw a sinker that produced a strike.

  Holly couldn’t help but be impressed. He allowed one home run and got the other eight batters to strike out or ground out. The Nighthawks won, two to one. When he looked into the stands on his way back to the dugout, she shot him a thumbs up. He doffed his cap again then disappeared into the congratulatory slaps, bumps, and high-fives of his teammates.