Strike (Completion Series)

by Holly S. Roberts

His left eyebrow arched as he read the title aloud. “Analytical Concepts in Accounting.”

  Again, my pride got the better of me and my voice sounded stiff. “I don’t plan to work at Tasty Burger my entire life.”

  “How many classes are you taking?”

  He needed to leave, but I went ahead and answered. “Two each semester.”

  He turned to my brother. “What are your grades like, Jon?”

  “Decent.”

  Reed didn’t seem put off by Jon’s monosyllable answers. “What subjects do you like?”

  My brother surprisingly said, “English, literature, and history.”

  I heard a slight rustle of material and was first to notice my sister; her little hands rubbed her eyes as she looked questioningly at everyone in the room. In two steps, I picked her up, pressing her head to my shoulder. “Hey, sugar, you should be sleeping.”

  She pushed her upper body away from me, her big eyes going to the strange man in our trailer. “Who are you?”

  I saw Reed’s reaction. Almost everyone had a warm fuzzy moment when my sister gave the big-eyed stare. She was as adorable as they came. It’s the reason Jon and I were so protective; Bitsy was our world.

  Reed gave her a soft, calming smile and lowered his voice. “I’m Reed. Sorry about waking you up.”

  “Sokay. Don Gato wanted his belly scratched.”

  I rubbed her hair. “I’m putting you back to bed, sugar.” I quickly turned and headed to the back.

  I could feel her little hand lift from my shoulder, and from the corner of my eye, I saw her wave to Reed. Laying her on the bed, I pulled the covers up. “I promise to be in soon. Go back to sleep and I’ll make your favorite pancakes in the morning.”

  “He’s pretty.”

  Out of the mouths of babes. “Yes, he is.”

  “Is he your boyfriend?”

  I knew Reed could hear every word through the walls. “No. He’s just a nice man who gave me a ride home. That’s enough—sleep or no pancakes.”

  “I love you, Jaycee.”

  My heart melted. “Love you too, sugar. Goodnight.”

  I slid the accordion door so only an inch remained open. I turned and looked at Reed.

  His deep voice remained low. “I need to grab something from my car and then I’ll let you all go to sleep. I’ll be back in just a minute.” He opened the door and walked outside.

  My brother’s huge eyes met mine. “You brought Reed Tyler here. Did you know it was Reed Tyler?”

  “Shh. We’ll talk after he’s gone.”

  Reed stepped back in holding the shoebox with his balls. He placed them on the table on top of my accounting book before turning to my brother and shaking his hand.

  “It was nice to meet you, Jon.”

  Jon just nodded.

  Reed’s blue eyes turned and drilled into mine. “I hope those give you what you need. I’ll make sure the media knows I no longer own them.”

  I couldn’t speak past the lump in my throat. I wanted to cry, and, more than anything, I no longer wanted Reed Tyler’s balls.

  Chapter Five

  His car roared away while I stood in stunned silence.

  “What the hell’s in the box, sis?”

  I walked to the table and lifted the lid, handing one of the Plexiglas-encased balls to my brother. It was marked with a small plaque showing the name and date.

  “Holy shit, it’s a Babe Ruth.”

  At least it was someone I’d heard of and I didn’t feel stupid. I picked up another, lifting it to the dim light. Mickey Mantle, someone else I’d heard of, so I knew these balls were worth some money.

  When word went out on the street that Big Jim, the local fence, would pay ten grand for Reed Tyler’s autographed baseball collection, I had no idea exactly which balls I was after. I just figured that some dumbass rich jock could afford to lose them. I didn’t know Reed’s father gave them to him. I looked down. There was one more in the box. I peeked inside with my brother peering over my shoulder.

  I picked it up.

  Jon whispered, reverence dripping from his voice. “Joe Jackson. Holy shit, that’s Shoeless Joe’s signature.”

  “Shoeless Joe?”

  He rolled his eyes, turning the Plexiglas around and around, his mouth slightly open. I hadn’t seen that kind of animation on Jon’s face for years. It made him look much younger than our hard life made him act.

  Our life sucked.

  ***

  Sleeping next to my sister on the soft, lumpy bed didn’t keep me from tossing and turning. Baseball’s Holy Grail collection was stashed under the box holding up the mattress. Jon helped lift the mattress to hide it, while Bitsy slept through the tilting of her bed. I’d told Jon almost the entire story, leaving out only that Mr. Tyler cut away my shirt and bra.

  He’d turned away from me, clearly fighting anger. “Why would you do that?”

  “We need the money, Jon.”

  “So you tried to steal it by breaking into a house. What if he’d called the police?”

  “He didn’t.”

  Jon knew our situation. I think he even understood, but he had a right to be angry. If I’d been caught, he and Bitsy would be back in foster care. I lay in bed unable to escape the guilt I felt. Even if my brother didn’t blame me, I’d let him down. I tossed and turned slowly, trying not to wake Bitsy. Knowing what I had to do and doing it were two different things.

  Numbers ran through my head. I would cut out one of my classes next semester and look for a second job. We could survive until Jon graduated from high school. He had an excellent chance of getting an academic scholarship to a decent college. He’d lied to Reed. Against all odds, Jon was an excellent student. If I had another job, I could stash some money so I would be home at night with Bitsy after Jon went away to school.

  All but one possibility passed through my mind while I tried to sleep. Reed Tyler would get his balls back. I could never sell them.

  ***

  I gazed in the small bathroom mirror at my bruised face. It was better than I thought it would look. I’d put my brown hair up in a tight bun in preparation for work. My mom, before she got sick, peered back at me. My nose was a little pointier, but my cheekbones were the same and so were my lips. Stupidly, I wondered if I looked like my father too because I didn’t have my mom’s green eyes; mine were hazel. My mom would never tell me who my father was, and knowing the amount of men who went in and out of her bed, I wasn’t sure she knew.

  I worked the morning shift then went back to the trailer and changed out of my ugly orange uniform before removing the shoebox from under the bed. I felt conspicuous with it in my arms, but no one had a clue what it actually held.

  I took the bus then walked the same path I had taken the evening before. In daylight, I noticed more opulence—the homes and yards, a dream of perfection that would never happen for me. I’d told Jon my plans and he wasn’t happy, though he wanted the balls returned too. I told him I might be late and he needed to take care of Bitsy.

  “What’s new,” was his belligerent reply. Jon never acted like that and I knew my desperate act made him feel impotent. Even at his age, he took it hard that he couldn’t care for us.

  Jon had no life but school, homework, and caring for Bitsy while I was at work. Our neighborhood wasn’t a place you made friends unless you were into drugs.

  I knocked on the door, but Reed didn’t answer. I looked at the front of the huge house then turned my eyes to a separate garage much bigger than our travel trailer. I couldn’t fathom this kind of life. No worries. Play a ball game to make your money, travel, and come home to a beautiful house. Life wasn’t fair and that was made clear to me from an early age.

  I peeked around the corner of the house and saw the window I’d broken was fixed. I don’t know why it made me feel worse, but it did. Sitting down on the porch steps, I waited.

  Over an hour passed. The sun started to go down and a slight chill made me shiver. Reed had cut off my only hoodie
jacket and the long sleeved t-shirt I wore did little to protect me from the cold. I heard his car long before he pulled into the driveway. He didn’t drive the car around to the garage, just stopped in front of me. The door opened and his long legs swung out, his feet hitting the cement. I kept my head down.

  “Should I be worried?” His voice was gruff, but held an edge of humor.

  I looked up. His sweatpants and tight shirt had me thinking he’d been at the gym. Maybe it wasn’t humor I heard in his voice, because he wasn’t smiling.

  “You got the window fixed.” It was kind of a stupid thing to say.

  “That’s what worries me. It didn’t stop you last night.”

  I needed to get out of here as soon as possible, so I jumped up, leaving the closed box on the porch. “I don’t know why you gave me the baseballs, but I can’t take them. What I did was stupid and I don’t have an excuse. I won’t come back here or bother you again. Thank you for being kind to my brother after what I did. I told him the truth.” Heat rushed into my cheeks. “Most of the truth.”

  Reed’s blue eyes remained on mine, but he didn’t say anything. I hadn’t expected him to accept my apology. Putting my head down, I walked away. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. I hoped I didn’t need to wait long for a bus. It had become a little more than chilly.

  “Where’s your jacket?”

  I turned and gave Reed a small smile. “I’m thinking it’s in your garbage.”

  “You don’t have another jacket?”

  Different worlds, totally. “Unlike you, who probably owns several, no, I don’t have another jacket.”

  “What about a coat?”

  He would never understand. Shaking my head, I walked away.

  The pull on my sleeve surprised me.

  “I’m driving you home.”

  For some reason this made me angry and I turned my toughest, don’t-mess-with-me look on Mr. Baseball. “I am not your little feel-good project. I’m sorry I broke into your house and someday, I’ll send you a check for the window. I also don’t need your charity, so thank you very much, but I’ll get myself home.”

  It was my damn pride talking, but, really, he was just too sexy, rich, and, God, the worst part—nice. I was the last person who deserved his goodwill.

  “You’re such a pistol…get in the damn car.”

  He was out of his mind. I tugged my sleeve away, but he only took ahold of my arm. My gaze traveled from his fingers to his eyes. The intense blue sheen made me groan in frustration.

  “Please, I have just a little pride left,” I pleaded.

  It didn’t discourage him. “Freezing to death and leaving your sister and brother to fend for themselves helps no one.”

  It was hard to leave my stubbornness behind. I couldn’t help myself and gave him the nastiest look I could manage. Neither of us budged.

  “I’ll pick you up and put you in my car,” he challenged.

  I actually stomped my foot, but held my unsecured hand up, stopping him when his shoulder dipped to lift me.

  “Fine.” I slapped his hand away and marched around his car. He walked over, scooped up the box from his porch, and placed it in the trunk of his car. I was fuming and I’m sure if he looked closely, he would see steam coming out of my ears.

  Damn egotistical jerk.

  He cranked up the car heater before adjusting the music volume so it blasted my eardrums. It was a heavy metal band I wasn’t familiar with, not that my knowledge of heavy metal was very large. I preferred Top 40 and I would have also preferred a nice long walk and bus ride home.

  I wasn’t scared like I’d been the night before, and sitting so close to him only made me aware of how gorgeous he was. I could also smell the slight musky scent of his sweat. I’d never thought sweat could smell good, but Reed managed the athletic jock thing too well. I glimpsed his strong arms and hands out of the corner of my eye as he turned the steering wheel. Then my mind went to other things, his giant cock to be exact. I pinched my arm, hard, so I would stop thinking about the part of his body I had no business thinking of.

  He didn’t speak the entire trip. I let my anger over his insistence on giving me a ride home build. I didn’t want my brother seeing Reed’s car again. I wanted my brother to forget the mess I’d made and forgive me for being so stupid.

  Reed pulled to the front of my trailer. I reached for the door handle, but he stopped me. “I won’t go inside, but there’s something in the trunk I want you to have.”

  The man was exasperating.

  “I will not take your balls.”

  His husky laughter rang out, drowning me in the sexy sound. Why couldn’t he snort like a pig or something just as ridiculous when he laughed?

  “You’re very concerned about my balls,” he said when his laughter died away.

  My smartass mouth took front and center. “If you remember… I’ve seen your balls and it would be unsporting of me not to be concerned.”

  Oh, God, his eyes sparkled and I would do anything to take back my words and the thoughts they conjured.

  Reed wouldn’t let it pass. “I’ve seen a fair amount of you and that also causes me concern. So much concern that I didn’t sleep well last night.”

  Mortification anyone?

  “A gentleman wouldn’t bring that up.”

  This time, his laugh was plain evil. “A gentleman wouldn’t have cut away your shirt and bra. A gentleman wouldn’t have admired your tits. A gentleman wouldn’t do this…”

  I had no time to prepare for what happened next. His warm lips took mine at the same time his hands closed around my upper arms, trapping me. My entire body reacted to the kiss. I grew light-headed, my breasts ached, and my heart almost exploded out of my chest. But it was the taste of his mouth that had me squeezing my thighs together. I never knew anyone could taste this good. There was no description on earth that did it justice. I wanted to eat him whole.

  Chapter Six

  I thought I’d been kissed before, but I was so wrong. Those boys made weak bumbling attempts compared to what Reed did with his mouth. He explored mine, his tongue dodging, licking, and seeking. The kiss went on and on, his hand threaded through my hair, his other smoothed over my ear then across my jaw. When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against mine, his heavy breath warm with the delicious smell that matched his taste.

  “That wasn’t a very good idea,” he said without pulling away.

  “Then why did you do it?” A low breathy whisper had replaced my real voice.

  He leaned back, the intensity in his eyes captivated me. “Honestly, I don’t know. You’re still too young for fuck’s sake.”

  “For two more months and since you’re such an old man at twenty-five, I’m sure you’ll be arrested for cradle robbing.” Jon had told me Reed’s age and other interesting tidbits about Mr. Baseball Man.

  He released my hair, moving his hands up my arms until both rested against my throat, his thumbs running along my jaw. “I would have been arrested if I’d done what I wanted to last night. Seeing you taped to the chair was sexy as hell.”

  My heart fluttered and a tiny smile curved my lips. “You’re kinky.”

  He groaned. “You’re impossible.”

  “What if I’m kinky?”

  “What if you get out of the car and walk inside your trailer without looking back? I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

  It hurt, even if I knew he was right. I wasn’t one of the raving beauties he was accustomed to, but I could hold my own. Where our worlds separated was my trailer and his mansion. His career and my dead-end job. His goodness and my burglarizing his home. I opened the car door and got out, walking quickly to my front door without looking back. He didn’t stop me or give me whatever it was in the trunk he’d mentioned. That was okay, because I didn’t want anything to remind me of what I couldn’t have.

  ***

  Jon leveled me with a stare; I knew he’d heard Reed’s car, but he didn’t mention it. “You did the right th
ing, sis.”

  He was such a great kid, who happened to be a man because of circumstances. He acted nothing like his age and that was sad in itself. I cooked a special dinner of mac-n-cheese and meatballs. Jon’s and Bitsy’s favorite. It was something our mother fed us when she’d taken time to cook. My meatballs were the frozen variety, unlike her homemade ones, but it worked.

  “Don Gato has a belly ache and doesn’t feel good tonight.” Bitsy’s eyes beseeched me to do something.

  I knew the old Tomcat had nine lives and had probably used up eight of them, but he’d been with us since we moved into our dilapidated tin box.

  “He’ll be fine, Bitsy. I’m sure he ate a sour mouse or something.”

  Her eyes lit up. “Are mice sour?”

  Jon laughed and ruffled her hair. “You tell us. I think Jaycee put one in our dinner.”

  “She did not.”

  “Did so.”

  Was I just thinking Jon was growing up? “Okay, let’s get the table cleared off and get our homework and studying finished. I think we’re on a really good chapter of Harry Potter and it’s your turn to read, Jon.”

  “Sure, but I need help with my geometry. How come polygons come so easy to you?”

  “It’s all about the formulas you never take the time to learn.” We’d had this discussion many times.

  “Why should I when I have you to help me out?”

  “You won’t have me in college. Let’s get started. He who should not be named awaits us.” I ignored the tightening of Jon’s expression after my mention of college. We weren’t going there tonight. He was getting out of this life if it killed me and then he would get Bitsy out.

  We performed our nightly rituals—cleaned the dishes, finished our homework, and sat down on the couch with a book. I had given up my longing for a television years ago. Reading gave us everything we needed and the library provided free entertainment. It also reminded us of our mother. When she wasn’t out tramping around looking for the perfect man to solve all her problems, she loved to read to us at night. Her soft voice wrapped us into the world of history, adventure, and fantasy. Mom was so far from perfect, but we had good memories and I was a poor substitute for her. But even with my failed attempt at giving us a small amount of financial stability, we would make it.