“Cheese,” they said in unison. He moved forward and then back again, changing a setting on his camera and then putting it back in front of his face.
“I don’t think you mean that,” said Dustin.
He was baiting her for another argument, only this time she wasn’t biting. “You can think whatever you want.”
“Dustin, less scowl, more happy.” Brush girl flashed her pearly whites. She looked like a shark ready for a snack.
Dustin mimicked her hungry smile and Clover had to bite her cheek not to laugh.
“Are you sticking around for my speech?” he asked. “The news crews will be here in a few minutes.”
“There’s more? You couldn’t pay me—oof!” Clover rubbed her ribs. Jane grinned for the camera.
Rethinking her response so she wouldn’t be bruised by her boss—who was taking this think-positive thing way too far—she said, “I’m sure your words will be inspiring for children of all ages.”
“Why do I feel insulted?” Dustin coughed. “Did you compare me to a circus?”
Clover pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. “Not intentionally.”
“So, you’re saying your subconscious insulted me.”
Her eyebrows came together. “It would seem so.” She gripped the check tighter. Up to this point, she’d thought Jane’s activity would be nice, a fun way to some self-improvement that was on the lighter side. But now, she wondered if deep down inside of her there was darkness that leaked out.
The photographer sighed heavily as if taking their picture was harder than capturing three-year-old triplets on film. Brush girl took the check out of their hands. Jane hurried to talk to a small family huddled near the front door. The children were wide-eyed, and not the excited kind.
Clover pressed her palms together. She didn’t want to be angry at Dustin anymore—didn’t want to feed the bad feelings he seemed to inspire. In the spirit of making amends and inviting good karma, she looked directly into his eyes and said the first thing that came to mind. “You’re not a horrible person.”
Dustin huffed like a bison. “Thanks. If you’ll excuse me, I have to go juggle.” He made the motion of tossing three balls into the air.
Clover hooked his elbow to stop him from leaving. She was trying to be nice. Apparently, it was more difficult than she first thought. “I didn’t say you were a clown.”
He tipped his head. “Then what am I? A trapeze artist? Because I feel like I’m walking a thin wire when I’m around you.”
She shook her head quickly.
“Lion tamer? Sword swallower? Human cannonball?” His neck was turning red.
Clover waved her arms, indicating all the craziness around them as the crew packed up and headed outside, where the press conference would be held in front of the building. “You’re a ringmaster.”
Dustin put his hand on top of hers, where it still rested on his arm. Her breath caught as a current sprinted from his hand to her hand to her lungs. His eyes danced. “Ringmaster is better than elephant pooper scooper.”
“And it’s way better than the bearded lady.”
He laughed. “Don’t disrespect that beard. My brother called it the noble fleece. He was devastated when I shaved it off.”
“Noble fleece? More like hobo fleece,” she snapped. Aw crap! That came out mean. She looked down. For one not-nice thing, she had to give an honest compliment. Dustin’s white athletic shoes didn’t have a scuff on them. “What I meant to say was, I like your shoes.”
He looked down to see what she was pointing at, and Clover took the opportunity to slip her hand out from under his and move away. She wasn’t sure, but staying away from Dustin might make it easier to say and think nice things about people. She wanted to try it out, but she really had to finish dinner.
“Where are you going?” Dustin asked.
“I have a job to do.” She pointed to the front window, where a portable podium with multiple microphones could be seen. “And so do you.”
An hour later, when the rolls were baking in the oven and filling the kitchen with the most amazing scent of fresh-baked bread with butter on top, Jane came through the swinging doors. A large section of hair had fallen out of her bun and was tucked behind her right ear. “I’m glad that’s over.” She sagged against the sink.
“Do you think it’s worth it?” Clover began loading the pots and pans into the industrial dishwasher.
“Way worth it. Oh—” She patted her pockets. “Here.” She held out a pair of tickets.
“What are those?” Clover wiped her hands on her apron and reached for them.
“Tickets to tonight’s game.”
“What?” Clover snatched them and held them too close to her face. She squealed. “I’ve been watching the Redrocks for weeks.” She jumped up and down again. All the time she’d spent glued to the television, falling in love with baseball, had finally paid off! She was going to a game. A real game where they sold hot dogs and lemonades, and little kids with baseball mitts hoped to catch fly balls.
Jane laughed. “Have fun.”
Clover paused in her celebration. “Don’t you and Pastor Paul want to go?”
Jane waved her off. “I’ve had enough excitement for one day.” Her eyes softened. “Besides, we have a friend in the hospital we planned on visiting tonight.”
Clover hugged her. “Thank you so much. I can’t wait.” She tucked the tickets safely in her back pocket. This was going to be the best night ever.
Chapter Fourteen
Dustin stepped into the dugout and took a deep, satisfying breath, drawing in joy from the scent of freshly mowed grass and dirt and leather and a clean uniform. Hopefully it wouldn’t stay that way for long.
He pivoted. The stadium lights brought out the deepest green in each blade of grass, and the night was full of possibilities. The start of a game was a chance to win. It didn’t matter that the Redrocks had the second-worst season in the division. What mattered was this game. The first pitch. A clean slate. Baseball was all about the stats, but when Dustin stepped onto the field, that all took a seat in the nosebleeds.
Taking a ball out of the bucket, he rubbed it between his palms as if he were trying to get the scent of the ball into his skin. He stepped onto the field and pointed to Joe at first base before he threw the ball. Joe caught it and tossed it to the second baseman, Devin Capiro. They threw it back and forth while Dustin jogged his way to short. With a careful glance, he checked the seats above the bullpen.
She’s here.
Wearing a generic ball cap, her hair falling down around her shoulders, Clover took in the ball field with wide, excited eyes. Her hands moved as she talked to the woman sitting next to her. Dustin thought it might be the same woman from the club the other week, but he couldn’t be sure. He hadn’t spent much time looking at Clover’s friend that night—Clover had had his full attention.
For all the brightness and beauty the stadium lights provided, they paled in comparison to how beautiful Clover was when she smiled. He hadn’t seen her honest smile since the day she stopped him on the street and gave him the stupid essentials bag. That smile had grabbed hold of his heart, playing it like a puppeteer and rendering him speechless.
“Dustin!” shouted Joe.
Dustin barely had time to raise his glove and stop the ball from hitting him in the face. He easily threw to Ricky at third, his eyes going back to Clover. She sat on the edge of the seat, her hands clasped and her eyes drinking in everything from the mow lines on the field to the images on the JumboTron. He didn’t think there was anything more attractive in the world than a woman excited to watch a game.
He dropped his head, shielding his face with his hat as he smiled. He shouldn’t be this happy to have Clover in his seats, but a sense of fun tickled the night. A couple kids sitting a few rows in front of Clover waved to him. Dustin looked down at the ball in his hand and then lifted his arm to throw. The kids screamed and waved their arms, but he wasn’t aiming for the
m. Clover was looking his direction, so he tossed the ball to her. Just as it left his hand, she turned to her friend, and to his horror, the ball hit her in the shoulder and bounced away. The kids scrambled for it.
Her mouth dropped open, and her hand covered her upper arm. She might have a bruise. He’d been excited when he threw that ball and wanted to make sure it got to her. Some guy with a beer in his hand and a Redrocks shirt came up with the ball and held it above his head. Dork. The game hadn’t even started yet.
Dustin mouthed Sorry to Clover. She glared. The umpires came out on the field, and the team lined up for the National Anthem.
“Nice,” goaded Brayden. “That’ll make the blooper real.”
Dustin punched him in the arm. “Shut it.”
Brayden shook his head and pulled his hat off and over his heart. Thankfully, Brayden didn’t notice that it was Clover in the stands. Or, if he did, he didn’t comment. Good thing, too, because Dustin had no desire to explain how she ended up in his seats. He’d given the tickets to the manager of The Pantry. He’d hoped Clover would get them, but he didn’t dare specify who he wanted to see at the game.
He wasn’t sure why he wanted Clover there. Motivation was the most likely and easiest answer. Dustin wanted Clover to see him play, wanted to show her what he could do with a bat and a low curveball.
Not much happened in the first inning. In the bottom of the second, Devin hit a fly ball into the dugout. Dustin ended up with it in his mitt. He turned to the fans above the dugout and held up the ball.
Dustin made eye contact with Clover. The stands and the fans and even the jumbotron faded away, and he had this feeling that he’d love to play catch with Clover. That they’d be able to read one another like a catcher and a pitcher should. He grinned and sent the ball flying her way.
One of the kids with a mitt jumped up and snagged it out of the air. He celebrated, showing off to his friend and his dad. Clover clapped eagerly for him, yet she hadn’t lifted her hands to even try for the ball.
Dustin groused and sat back down. Getting a ball to a woman in the stands wasn’t supposed to be this hard. After two attempts, one that was obvious he was throwing directly to her, he couldn’t make another attempt without the team realizing he had his eye on her.
The game continued with the Redrocks trading runs with Oakland. In the bottom of the seventh, a fly ball bounced and landed in Brayden’s mitt. He turned to Dustin with laughter in his eyes. “This is how it’s done, bro.” He dragged Dustin up to the top step, pointed to Clover, waved off the guys crowding around her, and underhanded the ball.
Clover caught it, barely, and jumped up and down, holding it over her head. She was laughing with her friend and smiling and doing all the things Dustin had pictured her doing when she caught his ball. They hastened to sit back down, and Dustin used his foot to shove Brayden off the bench. The guys cracked up, pointing at him. Brayden chuckled from the ground. “If I’d known you’d be this ticked, I would have done that three innings ago.”
“You suck.”
Brayden laughed harder.
Dustin took a seat on the bench and pulled his hat down low. She should have caught his ball.
Chapter Fifteen
Clover yawned as she placed heads of lettuce on the shelf. The yawn ended in a smile. She worked the night shift at the hotel five nights a week and didn’t feel this tired. Being at the baseball game last night was too much excitement, and she couldn’t fall asleep when she got home. She ended lying in bed with her phone, scanning the Redrocks website and watching YouTube videos. Some of them had her laughing into her pillow—baseball players had a sense of humor she wasn’t expecting. They did choreographed dances in the outfield and held dance-offs during rainouts. They charged the mound to protect their teammates, and they hit batters who had too much attitude. Rivalries between teams were as big as rivalries between siblings. In short, baseball was a family, and she wanted to be a part of it.
Dustin’s media circus yesterday had been good for The Pantry—much to her chagrin. They’d gotten a donation of fresh fruits and vegetables from a local grocery store this afternoon. The food chain was a major sponsor for the Redrocks. Canned goods came in fairly regularly, but the fresh stuff was always a blessing. Jane was in the office, texting some of the regulars on their government issued cells about the apples and bananas so they would know to come in before the fruit was gone.
Clover hummed along to the love song playing over the speakers. They kept the station tuned to a local oldies favorite. Music was subjective, but no one objected to Buddy Holly and Elvis Presley.
The door whooshed open, and Dustin charged in, his arms stiff. Clover found herself smiling at him. He’d looked so good in his uniform last night—even better than on television. He stopped on the other side of the produce and folded his arms over his chest. His arms bulged in the tight workout shirt, and she swallowed.
Clover jerked herself out of admiring his physique. She wasn’t that shallow. Dustin was a fine specimen of manhood. Usually, she felt threatened around a guy that big. That was part of her mother’s training—stay away from men who are bigger than you. Dustin didn’t give her that sense of danger. Even though he was glaring at her and acting like a bear protecting his cave, she still felt safe.
Her eyes didn’t get much past combing over his arms when he snapped, “Do you even know how to catch a ball?”
Clover’s defenses sped from zero to one hundred at his tone. She planted a hand on her hip. “No.”
“No?” he asked incredulously. Like it was impossible for a person to not know how to catch a ball. He needed to get out more.
“No,” she said firmly.
His arms fell to his sides and his anger melted into disappointment. She wasn’t sure what was worse. “You never played T-ball or volleyball or anything?”
“Nope.” She bent down and pulled a head of lettuce out of the box and set it on the display.
“Baseball is the all-American pastime. It’s everywhere. Kids should learn how to play catch.”
Clover shrugged. She wasn’t about to tell him they never stayed in a town long enough for her to have an address, let alone play a full season of T-ball. “We moved around a lot.”
“That’s not an excuse.” He picked up lettuce with both hands and threw it at her. “Catch.”
“Aaahhh.” She fumbled, and the lettuce ended up in the box. “Hey—you can’t waste food like that. There are people counting on this for dinner tonight.”
He grabbed another. “Then catch it.” This time he smiled before he threw.
She managed to clutch this one to her chest. “Are you insane?”
He scratched his chin. “You know, when a player throws you a ball during a game, you’re supposed to catch it.”
Her shoulder suddenly ached. She’d forgotten that he’d hit her with a baseball last night. That was rude. “Why?”
“Why? Because it’s part of the game.”
She rubbed her shoulder. “That’s stupid.”
He scowled. “I can’t talk to you if you’re going to disrespect baseball.” He stormed through the door.
Jane cleared her throat. She was standing in the doorway to her office. Clover had no idea how long she’d been there, but the disappointment on her face was clear as day.
“I know. I’m supposed to play nice with the rich guy.”
“You’re supposed to play nice. I think you owe him an apology.”
Clover nodded at the same time she sighed. “He attacked me. He threw lettuce.” She tossed her hands in the air. “He is the most unlikeable man on the planet.”
“And yet, you were drooling.”
“Was not!”
Jane lifted one eyebrow.
“Eavesdropping is as big of a sin as drooling.” Clover pointed at her in an effort to move the spotlight.
Jane pushed off from the door. “Fine, I’ll jump in next time and keep him from throwing produce if you’ll tell him you’re sorry for c
alling what he does for a living stupid.”
Clover flipped around and leaned against the display. “That’s just it—baseball isn’t stupid. In fact, I think I’m in love with baseball. But Dustin makes me so mad I say things I don’t mean.”
“Maybe it’s time you two start over.” She pinned Clover with a look. “An apology would go a long ways to making that happen. Remember, a nice word for a not-nice one.”
“Well, I can’t run faster than a Camaro, so the apology will have to wait.” Inside, she was relieved. Talking to Dustin was hard enough; eating crow in front of him would be awful.
“The Redrocks are playing at home tonight. I’m sure you could track him down.”
“I’m working.”
“The game doesn’t start until nine. You’ll be fine going over after your shift.”
“Sure.” What’s one more sleepless night?
Jane hesitated. “You know, I don’t think he came in here to throw vegetables at you.”
Well, he did. Clover opted to keep her snarky comment to herself. “Then why did he come in?”
“I think, and this is just a vibe I’m getting, but I think he came in to play.”
Clover had no idea what that meant. “Play?”
“To play. He’s looking for a friend.” Jane lifted her shoulders. “It’s just a feeling.” She headed back to the office.
Clover rubbed her sore shoulder again. When the ball hit her arm, she thought Dustin was throwing it at her, but now she wondered if he’d been throwing to her. The second time he tossed a ball to the crowd, he’d looked right at her. She hadn’t been sure because his face was partially in shadow from his hat, but she’d felt his eyes connect with hers.
Catching Brayden’s ball had been fun, like she was part of the game that happened on the field. Come to think of it, the people around her had reached for those fan balls.
Had Dustin been trying to include her in baseball? If so, then she did owe him an apology. She probably owed one to Brayden too, considering she’d handed the ball to a little kid on their way out of the stadium. Sheesh! For someone who wanted to join the baseball family, she wasn’t doing a very good job of being a good sport.
Caught Looking Page 7
