The Practice Proposal

by Tracy March

  “Because he got drafted by the Nationals?” Liza asked. “I missed the details on that.” She shrugged. “I was too busy with my own drama right about then—with college, and other crushes that didn’t turn out so well.” She scrunched her face. “But I remember you guys heading down to Chapel Hill a lot during baseball season.”

  “We bought into the Orioles right before he graduated, and he was busy with the Nationals after he got drafted. It’s a shame we lost touch.” Her dad frowned ruefully. “Maybe we can make up for some of that lost time with you two hitting it off like you are.” They ate in silence for a few moments.

  Liza took a deep breath. “The Nats go on a road trip tomorrow, so I’ll be back at Camden Yards after work.”

  “We’ll always be there,” her dad said. “And we’d always love to have you. Before the end of the season, maybe we can get Cole out to an Orioles game.”

  “If both teams make the World Series, he’ll come to at least a couple of games.” Liza said what they were all probably thinking. “But he’ll be playing, and we’ll have to root against him.”

  No one said anything as Liza took a swallow of orange juice. She shrugged, then grinned wickedly. “But it’s our turn this time, right? He already won the pie war.”

  …

  Cole’s phone chirped as he stood at his locker in the Nats clubhouse, getting ready to head out for batting practice. He pushed his hair back from his forehead, put on his cap, and checked for a tweet. Liza had never responded to the one he’d sent last night, so he hoped it was from her.

  Paige Ellerbee @SweetBees

  @ColeCollins crushes in #piewar. Sorry @LizaSutherland. Rematch?

  She’d attached a photo of the article and picture in the paper today. Cole had been glad she’d gotten some good publicity for her bakery, but he hadn’t been as happy to see a picture of himself wearing an apron on the Washington Post’s home page. His teammates had ragged on him about his and Liza’s picture on their hayride and his practice proposal stunt, but they had absolutely tortured him about the apron and the pie war—even though he’d won.

  He looked up from his phone to see Frank across the room, quickly shaking hands with the shortstop. He turned and headed Cole’s way.

  Frank gave Cole a hearty pat on the back and a smile that showed most of his teeth. “It’s working, son,” he said beneath the din of noise in the locker room. He glanced around to see if anyone was within earshot. “Two days in the Post, one in the Sun. Hayrides and pies. Liza sitting in the stands. Meeting the parents.” He gestured toward the heart-shaped collage of Cole and Liza’s pictures on the locker room wall. The same smart-ass teammate had blown up a copy of the picture of Cole in an apron and written “Whipped” in big black letters across the bottom. “Word’s getting around that you’re serious about her. They’re going to be waving that contract like an SOS flag.”

  “I already knew her parents,” Cole said defensively. He was eyeball-deep in this charade that Frank was deftly managing, but he wasn’t managing it so well himself. Seeing John and Sylvia yesterday had stirred him up enough. Then there was that kiss with Liza last night.

  That mind-blowing, heart-pounding, game-changing kiss.

  He couldn’t get it out of his head, and he couldn’t afford the distraction. Today’s game was a must-win, and he needed to be focused on baseball. Why had she cried and practically run away afterward? All Liza, all the time was starting to get to him. Or maybe she was starting to get to him.

  It was definitely time for a road trip.

  Chapter Ten

  Cole had managed to focus on the game enough to hit three of four and score the winning run for the Nats in a 2-1 squeaker. The team hit the road tomorrow, so Cole had tonight to figure out what was going on with Liza. Frank’s plan might be starting to work the way he’d said, but Cole was more concerned about Liza and what had happened between them. He hated to risk scaring her off, but he was going to do it anyway.

  “Where are we headed?” Liza asked, riding shotgun in Cole’s pickup as he drove toward the outskirts of DC. He glanced over at her, taking more time than was safe to check her out. She looked pretty hot in a pair of jeans and a fine-knit butter-yellow sweater that had grabbed his attention right away. It begged for him to touch it—all clingy, but tasteful, with a deep V-neck plunging past a lace-trimmed camisole. Windblown from the game, her hair fell in a cinnamon-colored frame around her face and her lips shimmered with a hint of gloss, just waiting to be kissed.

  Cole reluctantly turned his attention back to the road. “I’m taking you home.”

  He’d arranged for Mack and Brenda to pick her up and bring her to the game, so she’d have no way to run off if she got emotional on him again. He would have her all to himself tonight. The idea excited him more than he wanted to admit—as long as there’d be no crying. He remembered the helpless feeling he’d gotten when his grandma cried, worrying about his mother and wishing she’d straighten up.

  “You’re taking me home?” she asked, looking surprised.

  “I thought we’d pick up some dinner and go to your place.” He glanced at her quickly, but long enough to see her biting her lip. He reached over, squeezed her hand, and kept hold of it. “I’d love to take you out somewhere, and we can do that, if you want. But sometimes I like a little privacy so I can relax.”

  Frank wouldn’t appreciate that Cole’s plan didn’t include a public appearance with Liza, but that was just tough crap for Frank. Cole thought she might enjoy doing something quiet. He hoped she’d be comfortable enough at her own place to clue him in on what went wrong last night, just when things had felt so right.

  “How about ribs?” she asked.

  “Ribs?”

  “Yep. Barbecue ribs.” She nodded. “There’s this little place up the road that looks like a dilapidated log cabin. It’s not much better on the inside, but they smoke some mean ribs, and whip up some crazy-good secret-recipe sauce.”

  Cole raised his eyebrows. He’d been known to drive long distances for a killer rack of ribs.

  “What?” Her eyes widened. “Don’t tell me you’re a vegetarian. I saw you eat a hot dog.”

  He shrugged.

  “Uh-uh.” She shook her head. “Those weren’t some kind of tofu dogs, were they? No wonder they exploded into flames.”

  He smiled, wondering where she got her wild ideas. “Sorry, miss. Those dogs were all beef, and the simple fact is you just scorched one.”

  She pouted playfully, then grinned. “Ribs it is, then. I promise they’ll be good, since I’m not cooking.”

  …

  Liza’s stomach swirled with nervousness as the elevator rose to her floor. The smell of spicy barbecue and fresh hush puppies filled the air quickly. Cole leaned casually against the wall, carrying two giant white paper bags that held their dinner. She couldn’t help but notice how his loose jeans hung perfectly over his long legs and narrow waist. And the man could rock a polo shirt. Cole’s was Carolina blue, and just snug enough to hint at the cut of muscles underneath. The color made his eyes look lighter. His hair swept across his collar like a field of summer wheat against a clear blue sky. Liza could hardly believe how lucky she was that he was here with her, especially after she’d run away last night. He had to wonder why she’d done that…again.

  She had mixed feelings about him coming to her place, but she understood his reasoning. The privacy issue wasn’t arguable. She’d seen the way fans acted when they came across a big-name athlete in public. Besides, a normal dating couple would want to spend time alone—right? But they weren’t a normal dating couple…even though Cole didn’t know that. He was probably just being considerate of her and trying to move things forward.

  Liza’s insides were in a knot by the time she opened the door to her condo and Cole followed her inside. He stopped a few steps in, and she took the
bags from him while he quickly checked out the place. She’d decorated it in taupe and serene blue, with an ivory accent here and there. Not ultramodern like the decorator had suggested, but cozy contemporary and comfortable. She hadn’t wanted it to be a showplace; she just wanted it to feel like home.

  His gaze settled on the harbor view. “Home sweet home.” He seemed to like the setting and the view. He stepped over to the wall of windows that flanked the balcony doors and practically pressed his nose against one of them.

  Liza set the bags on the granite countertop of the island that separated the kitchen from the living area. “We can eat on the balcony if you want.”

  He nodded like an excited little kid, even though he was an incredibly rich pro baseball player who could afford places almost anywhere with much more stunning views than hers. For a quick moment, she imagined what he must have looked like as a little blue-eyed, blond-headed boy, excited about his first baseball game.

  “And here I thought I might have been showing you something by taking you out to the storybook farm,” he said.

  “Are you kidding?” She got the food ready to serve. “I’d trade this view for the farm any day.”

  She grabbed a couple of cold beers from the fridge, and he helped her take their dinner out on the balcony. They lit several candles, sat down next to each other, facing the view, and spread their feast out on the table—mac ’n’ cheese, green beans with ham, golden-brown hush puppies, and ribs glazed with sauce. She couldn’t wait to dig in.

  He grabbed several napkins from a big pile. “This is going to be messy.”

  “That’s half the fun.” She reached for a hush puppy and took a crispy bite.

  He did the same, and they split the racks of ribs. Liza absently licked the sauce from her fingers, one-by-one.

  “I could help you with that,” he said with a sexy glint in his eyes and a seductive curve of his lips.

  Mmm…he’s irresistible. She swallowed hard.

  “I’m good,” she said lightly, and fluttered her fingers at him. But then she imagined him sensuously licking her fingers, and she considered dunking them back in the sauce.

  Cole raised one eyebrow, as if he had heard her thoughts, then tore into one of the ribs and chewed with a look of pure bliss on his face.

  “Holy Hannah, these are good.” He took another hearty bite.

  Liza chuckled. “Did you just say holy Hannah? Paige says that sometimes, but I can’t believe that’s how you talk in the dugout.”

  He shook his head, still chewing. After he swallowed, he said quietly, “My mom used to say it because my grandma didn’t allow cussing in her house.”

  The breeze off the harbor caught the corners of their napkins. “What happened to your mom?” she asked sympathetically.

  Even in the candlelight Liza could see the sadness in his eyes. He took a long time to answer. “Every one of her Mr. Rights were Mr. Wrongs. Before her drinking got too bad, she dated a decent guy or two, but they weren’t interested in anything serious with a girl who had a little kid and worked part-time stocking groceries at Piggly Wiggly. So she took up with rough guys who drank with her, then beat her.”

  Liza’s heart hitched, thinking about how difficult that had to have been for him and his grandma.

  He swiped his napkin across his mouth and gazed into the distance. Moonlight glinted on the water, and the occasional blinking lights of airplanes twinkled like moving stars. “When I was thirteen, I went after her boyfriend, but she managed to get between us before too much damage was done. She didn’t come around too much after that.”

  This was the Cole she remembered, who’d easily talked to her about almost anything, even though it was difficult. But now she could see how life had turned out for him, and why he seemed a little lonely under all that swagger. She smoothed her fingers up and down his forearm. “That had to be tough.”

  He shrugged, stretching the fabric of his shirt tightly across his broad shoulders. “As long as those guys took her to Atlantic City once in a while, she’d stay with them. She’d call sometimes to tell me and my grandma she was headed to the casinos, and she was finally going to hit it big.”

  Liza took his hand and laced her fingers between his. He looked so perfect in the candlelight with his strong jaw, high cheekbones, and that trademark mole—with a hint of vulnerability in his eyes. No one ever would have guessed he hadn’t had a perfect life to match. She brought his hand to her lips and kissed it tenderly. “Your mom had already hit it big when she had you.”

  He gave her a wan smile and shifted his gaze toward the water. “I don’t think she saw it that way,” he said quietly. “One rainy night she and her drunk boyfriend left a bar on his motorcycle. The guy took a curve too fast and slid out of control. He made it, but my mom didn’t.”

  Liza’s heart ached for him. He’d told her a bit about his background when they’d been teenagers, but she hadn’t imagined the story had turned out like this.

  She clutched his tightly muscled shoulder, trailed her hand down his arm, and hooked her fingers in the crook of his elbow, aware of the heat of his skin beneath her touch. “I’m sorry that happened to her…and you…and your grandma.”

  “My grandma was really more like a mom to me.” He twisted his napkin between his long fingers. “She packed sandwiches in my lunch that she’d cut with a biscuit cutter, and told me they were baseball PB and Js. She said if I ate them, I’d play better.” He shook his head and a lock of silky hair fell across his forehead. “I believed her. And I had round sandwiches in my lunch until I went to high school.”

  Liza smiled. “I wish I could have met your grandma. She sounds like my kind of lady.”

  “I think you two might be a lot alike.” He grinned, and popped a hush puppy into his mouth. “Only she could really cook.”

  …

  “I know how to make reservations,” Liza joked.

  Cole rolled his eyes, relieved they were back to casual conversation. Liza was so easy to talk to that he might just spill his whole life story—secrets and all—if he wasn’t careful.

  “And I know how to make Orioles pie.” She nodded as if that were some huge accomplishment. From what he had seen, it probably was. “Paige says she has orders all the way through the World Series.”

  “For Nats pies or Orioles?”

  “Both.”

  “That’ll be sad,” he said, and picked up another rib.

  “What?”

  “Orioles fans eating their fake-orange pie, watching the Nats play another team in the Series.” He raised one shoulder. “But ice cream is good comfort food, so there’s that.”

  “Just wait.” She lifted her chin. “Both of our teams might be in the Series.”

  Or neither of them.

  Cole chased the thought out of his head. He of all people knew how negative thinking could sabotage things. “That’d be good. Especially if it goes down like our pie war did.”

  “Not a humble winner, are you?”

  He skimmed his fingertips across the top of her hand. “Not when the stakes are that high.” Like they are with the Nats and me. As the end of the season drew closer, he was getting more and more worried about landing another contract. Yet the more time he spent with Liza, the guiltier he felt about using her to get it. He hated to think how hurt she would be if she found out about Frank’s plan. Cole had seen her in tears last night, and he didn’t want to upset her like that again. “Why were you crying last night?”

  Her expression tightened for a second, then a corner of her mouth turned up. “Doesn’t that always happen when you kiss girls?”

  He wouldn’t let her joke this away. He couldn’t afford for things to go wrong now…and he didn’t want them to. He was leaving for a week, and he had to know where he stood.

  “I have to admit that was a fir
st,” he said seriously. He dragged his hand down his face and searched for the right words. The last thing he wanted was to strike out here. “I don’t understand.”

  She stared at her plate for what seemed like minutes. Candlelight glowed on her face and flickered in her eyes. She looked simply gorgeous.

  “Two years ago…” Her voice wavered. “I was engaged.”

  Cole blinked rapidly as a rogue streak of envy tore through him. What kind of guy had she been engaged to? And what kind of guy would leave her?

  “His name was Wes Kelley,” she said, as if she’d read his mind. “He was a Secret Service agent.” She nervously twisted the chain of her delicate silver bracelet between her fingertips. “We were friends. Then we fell in love and he proposed. We’d planned a spring wedding.”

  Cole expected her to keep talking, but she didn’t. She just kept twisting her bracelet.

  “But you never got married,” he said.

  “No,” she whispered. “He was killed on the job. He jumped in front of a bullet that was meant for a visiting third-world dictator.”

  Cole put his arm around her and pulled her close. “I am so sorry.” She rested her head on his shoulder and he caught the fresh, flowery scent of her hair. “I had no idea.”

  They sat quietly for a little while, giving him time to enjoy the feel of her in his arms and to wrap his head around her story. Things were starting to make more sense. No wonder she’d been so guarded with him at times. The fun Liza he’d seen was the real Liza, coming back from all kinds of hell.

  Cole wondered if Frank had known about that part of her past. He couldn’t imagine the guy would intentionally put her in a position to get her heart crushed again. The scary thing was that Cole couldn’t imagine himself doing that, either.

  Man, what a mess.

  Liza pulled away, took a deep breath, and said, “I know it’s been two years, but I just wasn’t ready to date.” She shrugged weakly. “My mom is so certain there’s someone else out there…”