He didn’t care who the coach was as long as he got results. Results like winning games. No team could have a perfect record, but the Redrocks was perfectly awful. Unless something major happened, they were going to come in last in their division.
Blake needed to keep his head in the game—not lose it over some pretty face.
Juan walked easily into the locker room. His ankle couldn’t be hurt that bad if he was so limber. The jerk probably faked the ankle sprain so he could move in on Elise. “When’s the date?” Blake asked with bite.
Juan chuckled. “Man, she turned me down so fast I hit my butt on the floor.”
Blake paused. “Can’t say that I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Oops. I must have taken this by mistake.” Juan threw a roll of athletic tape at him and Blake caught it easily. “Someone better take it back.” Juan jerked his head towards the hallway that led to Elise. “Batter up.” He laughed before going through the single door to the dugout.
Blake stared at the roll of tape. Ask her out? On a real, honest-to-goodness date?
He shook his head. Blake Rygs met up with women or picked out a random hottie for the evening—never for the night, though. He may be far away from his middle-class upbringing in Montana, but there was a line that he didn’t cross.
Ask her out?
A date was premeditated. And it implied so much more than a chance meeting. A date suggested he was interested in Elise as a person and crap like that. He’d worked hard to create a playboy image to protect his heart. A serious relationship was not conducive to a ballplayer’s schedule, and he didn’t want to fall for a girl just to have her dump him for being on the road too much or spending his nights on the field.
While his mind rolled over the implications of putting himself out there, his feet carried him down the hallway, his body once again betraying him where the spunky redhead was concerned.
He wasn’t sure how long he stood to the right of the door, just out of sight, struggling for the courage to say a few words to the woman. He’d hardly spoken to her during his massage, more angry at himself for feeling all these stupid feelings towards her than he was at her. Then Juan had to go and hit on her, right in front of him. He flexed his hands and rolled his head around. If he didn’t calm down, he’d need another massage.
That was not an option. She’d read him like Jose Martinez read a pitch, calling him out for tensing up. She had him fumbling for thoughts—her and her curves in all the right places and this confidence in her movements that came from competing. Maybe she played soccer. But then why end up working for an MLB team? She couldn’t have played softball—that would make her the perfect woman. He’d always liked the idea of marrying a softball player. They’d put a T-ball field in their backyard for their kids instead of a playground. And they could just toss the ball and talk. He always loosened up when he had a mitt on one hand and a ball in the other. A woman that loved the sport as much as he did was too much.
“Rygs!” Coach Santacruiz yelled down the hallway. “Hit the cages.”
Blake nearly sagged with relief. He was off the hook—for now. “On my way.” He leaned into the room, keeping his feet firmly in the hallway. “Hey.”
Elise looked up from the iPad she studied. Her amber-colored eyes warmed, beckoning him closer.
“This belong to you?” He held up the tape before tossing it easily across the room.
Elise caught it, palm forward. Like a catcher behind home plate, she framed the throw, bringing the tape in front of her torso. She must have done the motion a billion times for it to look as natural as she made it appear.
Blake caught himself on the doorframe. Heaven help him, she was a catcher. The absolute perfect match for a pitcher.
Dang.
“Thanks.” She grinned.
He must have nodded, or something, because he left, jogging as quickly as he could to the batting cages. No matter how many balls he pounded with his Slugger, Elise’s smile hung with him.
A catcher.
Why’d she have to be a catcher?
Chapter Five
“Race you to the van!” Elise dug her toes into the parking lot and pushed the overloaded Costco cart as fast as she could while still maintaining control. Spilling a dozen bananas wouldn’t do them any good.
Jane, her little sister, was right next to her. The fifteen-year-old was only an inch shorter than Elise and had the same red hair. She wore her softball pants and team T-shirt since they’d gone to Costco right after her game. Her eye black smudged down her cheek and she had grass stains on her pants. The game was … rough. A few of the girls on the other team took issue with Jane’s home run during her first at bat. They spent the rest of the game roughing her up. Nothing the umps could call outright, but Jane had more than her fair share of bruises.
To add to her sister’s plight, Dad didn’t show up. It wasn’t like him to miss a game, but since he’d been elbowed out of his job as the local sportswriter by some hotshot jerk from back east, Tommy Stouvier, he’d been down. Depression down. Elise wondered if they should get him some meds, even talked to her dad about getting help, but he was too old-school and refused.
His depression was one reason her job with the Redrocks was ideal. She could live at home, help with the bills, and fill in at Jane’s and her brother’s games while Dad … struggled. Really, though, if Dad hadn’t been such a great dad, she never would have landed that full-ride at Western Nebraska and wouldn’t be where she was today. If he needed some time to get over losing “the best job in the world,” then the least she could do was give him that time.
Elise edged ahead. Sticking her tongue out at Jane, she almost didn’t see the man who stepped out from between two cars. “Aah!” She planted her feet and twisted the cart to the left, banging into Jane’s cart.
“Hey!” Jane yelled, doing her best not to run into the shiny sports car.
“Sorry!” Elise whipped her hair out of her face. She’d had it back all week at work and wanted to wear it down while she had the chance. Thankfully, the weather was still on the cool side of warm. This was the most comfortable day they’d have until next fall when the hundred-plus temps finally started to drop.
Her cart came to an abrupt halt as the man blocked it from running into his shins. “Elise?” Blake Rygs stared at her, his jaw hanging down.
Elise’s grip on the cart slipped, and Jane grabbed on. “Hey!”
“Blake.” She rubbed her palms on her jeans. Man, he looked good in a pair of jeans and a polo shirt that fit perfectly over his definition—his arms—his chest—his shoulders. She hadn’t gotten her hands on those shoulders yet, but she’d like to.
That sounded bad.
“Hey! You’re Blake Rygs.” Jane bounced next to Elise, the carts behaving for the moment. “Oh my gosh! Elise—it’s Blake Rygs.”
Elise laughed. “I know.” She almost said something about having worked on him, but for once her filter caught her tongue before she made a fool of herself.
“Hi. I mean, hey.” Jane grinned like a fool.
Blake looked back and forth between the two of them, obviously seeing the family resemblance. It was kind of hard to miss with the red hair, brown eyes, and light skin. Her cheeks flushed and she wished—not for the first time—her cheeks weren’t so light.
“’Sup.” He smiled at Jane. “What’s your name?”
Elise was thankful Blake handled Jane’s excitement well. He was probably used to dealing with crazed fans, most of them female. The thought made her want to spit nails.
“Jane Smith.” Jane held out her hand and made direct eye contact with Blake.
Well, look who grew up while I was away. Before Elise left for college, Jane was the little thing that hugged her legs and ducked when introduced to strangers.
Blake shook her hand. “Are you a Redrocks fan?”
Elise held her breath. From the time she could speak, Jane was all about the San Diego Padres. The family joked that Jane’s first cru
sh was on twenty-five guys and they’d better watch out when she was older.
Jane looked Blake over and giggled. “Yep, huge Redrocks fan.”
It was Elise’s turn to drop her jaw. That little scallywag. Not that Elise could blame her for changing her loyalty in the face of all of Blake’s wonderfulness. He certainly was fun to look at. And his kindness to Jane was making him all the more attractive in her eyes. Those butterflies pounded at the door, demanding to be let out.
Shush! she told them. They settled into a disgruntled flapping.
Elise may have worked on Blake—twice—but he’d hardly spoken to her. Of course, if Juan was correct, there was a reason for that. If the reason for Blake’s silence was what Juan implied, then it was probably the same reason Blake’s eyes would dart away any time they made eye contact. Like that. Elise’s neck warmed. Was Blake shy?
“You’ll have to come to a couple games,” Blake told Jane.
“I’d love that. Elise said she could get us some tickets once her probation is over.”
“You’re on probation?” Blake asked. A tiny muscle in his jaw bounced.
“Just the normal thirty-day training period. My benefits don’t kick in until after that.”
“Oh.” He looked around and shifted his weight.
Elise wondered if he’d used up his word allotment for the day.
“Let me help you load up.” He grabbed a box of canned green beans and looked around. “Where’s your car?”
“That’s okay,” said Elise at the same time Jane said, “Over there.” Elise shot her sister a look that said zip it before turning to Blake. “You’re probably really busy, and we don’t want to bother you.”
He shrugged, looking at the ground. “I don’t mind.”
Elise bit her cheek. The guy couldn’t wait to get off her table at the stadium and hardly said a word to her while she worked on his hammie, but he would help load groceries?
“Great! This way.” Jane pushed her cart across the aisle, lining it up at the back door to their ancient van. Blake winked at Elise and followed. Elise clasped the grocery cart handle, the plastic warm in the afternoon sun. Not as warm as her neck.
“Are we really going to let Blake Rygs load our groceries?” Elise whispered to Jane, mortified.
“I’d let the commissioner of Major League Baseball load our groceries if he wanted to,” Jane whispered back before opening the back door.
Jane laid down the back-row seats so they’d have enough room for all the food. She grinned, watching Blake place the box in the bottom of the van and grab the sports drinks.
Elise cringed at the popcorn, dry cereal, and dirt scattered across the carpet. She should have vacuumed out the van. But that was a chore that rarely happened. She glanced at Blake out of the corner of her eye. He probably had a spotless sports car—the one they’d almost run into, no doubt.
“You guys could almost feed me,” commented Blake. “Are you having a party?”
Jane laughed. “Yeah, right.”
Elise hurried to explain the mountains of food. “I have three seventeen-year-old brothers.”
“Triplets,” threw in Jane.
Elise nodded towards the overstuffed van. “This might last a week.”
Blake let out a low whistle.
Jane elbowed Elise away from the cart. “Good thing you make good money.” She pushed off, riding the carts to the cart return.
Blake cleared his throat. He touched her arm and spoke quietly. “Are you supporting your siblings?”
“No.” Her face burned. The situation was complicated, even in her head. She was home, temporarily. Paying “rent,” which she knew was just a way for her mom to take money for bills and not feel guilty about it. “Just helping out for a while.” She took a deep breath, feeling the need to distance herself from Blake and the way his touch awakened desires inside of her. Desires that should be left sleeping, since she had no outlet for them. How long had it been since she’d snuggled into a man’s embrace? Much too long, if her heady sensation at Blake’s simple touch was any indication. “Thanks for your help,” she said brightly.
“No problem.” Blake shuffled his feet.
Elise tucked her hair behind her ear.
His eyes following her movement. “I like your hair,” he said. Blinking, as if he couldn’t believe he’d said that out loud, Blake held up a hand. “I mean, you usually have it back. It looks nice … down … like that.” His eyes grew wide. “It looks nice up too. I didn’t mean to say you don’t look good at work. Because you do. Not that I’m looking. I mean, of course I’m looking, because I see you.” He took a step back, ready to go.
Jane returned, patting him on the back as she went by. “Thanks again, Blake.”
Blake deflated slightly. “Anytime. It was nice to meet you, Jane.”
Elise wasn’t sure what to say or where to put her hands. She knew where she wanted to put them, and her eyes drifted to Blake’s round shoulders. She tucked them into her back pockets instead.
Blake pulled the van door down. “So I’ll see you later?”
Elise worked to keep a straight face. “I’ll see you tomorrow for that hammie.”
“Right.” He blinked several times. “At work.”
“Yep—work.” She rocked on her heels.
“Bye!” Jane waved as she climbed into the passenger seat.
“See ya.” Blake took two steps back.
“Tomorrow,” added Elise. This time, a small laugh escaped. She couldn’t help it; he was so cute when he was nervous. And she could see it now, the muscle in the jaw that twitched when Blake worked to keep his cool.
Blake grinned, flipped around, and all but ran into the store.
Elise stared after him, enjoying watching a body that great in motion. Okay, not just any body—Blake’s body. There was more to this guy than just a firm set of muscles and she was having a hard time looking away.
Jane honked the van horn—jolting her out of her daze.
And people thought football had the franchise on fantasies.
She fished the keys out of her pocket and climbed behind the wheel. Jane poked her in the ribs. “You like him.”
Elise poked her back. “Says the girl who switched teams.”
Jane opened her mouth, aghast. “If I said I love the Padres, he wouldn’t have loaded our groceries.”
Elise checked her rearview mirror only to see boxes of toilet paper and mandarin oranges. “Let’s hope the boys are just as helpful when we get home.”
“They have to be—I hit a home run.”
Elise pulled onto I-15 and headed towards Dammeron Valley, where their home was tucked in alongside horse owners and cacti. Standing rule in the Smith home: anyone who hits a home run doesn’t have to unload groceries. For as long as Elise could remember, Saturdays were full of games and grocery shopping. Even when she was away, she did her shopping on Saturday. Being with her family again was great, but there was something missing. She was ready to start a few of her own traditions and wanted someone to start them with.
Blake, a pitcher, who was anything but shy on the mound, looked at her like she was more than just the girl next door. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Being an athlete, she’d always been in shape. But being a girl, she worried that her straight red hair, often pulled back into a ponytail, and her minimum makeup weren’t enough. She was happy with who she was, but couldn’t help but notice that the girls on the team—the ones who went all out—were asked out and whistled at much more often than the girl in the catcher’s mask.
Well, she wasn’t wearing that mask anymore. And when she’d caught Blake’s eye, he’d had a look that smoldered and simmered right down to her lower belly. The whole situation was nuts! A woman wasn’t supposed to meet her crush and he wasn’t supposed to help her load groceries like they were a couple or something. And he for sure wasn’t supposed to look at her like he had other things on his mind besides how to fit toilet paper in the back of a van.
/> The triplets were ready and willing when she pulled up, but Elise could have unloaded the van by herself since her feet and her head were floating.
Chapter Six
Blake left Doc’s feeling pretty low. Doc had checked his hamstring, pronounced him cured, and told him to come back if he had any issues. He had issues, all right. He could not stop thinking about her.
Running into Elise outside of work had only made him think about her more. Up to that point, he’d only seen her in the black scrubs and T-shirts the PTs wore. But her jeans hugged all the right places and her wrap-shirt-thing had wrapped her up nicely. And that hair! He could imagine it splayed across a blanket in the sunshine or tickling his arm as he held her close. Those thoughts were the most distracting, so he worked to focus on the other things he’d learned about the newest member of the Redrocks family.
He hadn’t missed the uniform Jane wore, the red dirt stain down her belly because she’d slid into a base, and the mussed hair. They’d just come from a game and he couldn’t help but wish he’d been sitting next to Elise as she cheered for her sister. Elise treated Jane like a friend and an equal, and he could bet they had a great relationship—just like he and his brothers.
And triplets! How cool was that? Did they all have red hair? Play ball? Did multiples run in their family? So many questions flew through his head like wild pitches.
He smiled. He bet Elise could catch those pitches.
He needed to get his head into practice. The new manager, Isaac Wolfe, started today. He’d given a nice little welcome speech this morning. At least, Blake assumed it was nice. He’d zoned through the whole thing, coming to in time to jog out with the team. Not a great way to make a first impression on the manager.
Neither was throwing balls in the dirt, which was all he seemed to be able to do today. “What’s going on, Rygs?” asked Brad Andres, the pitching coach.
Delay of Game (Dating Mr. Baseball Book 1) Page 3
