“Nothing. I’m just tight.” He windmilled his right arm to loosen the joint. He was wound tight, but it didn’t have anything to do with his muscles.
Coach Andres jerked his head towards the dugout. “Go get it worked on.”
“Sure thing.” Blake grinned, enjoying this turn of events as he jogged across the field, down the dugout stairs, and through the door. The torture chamber was just down the hallway and his favorite physical therapist should be right inside. His steps slowed and his heart rate picked up. He laughed at himself. This girl had him backwards and inside out. His heart rate was low when he jogged and high when he walked towards her. He’d experienced the same phenomenon yesterday while helping her load groceries.
Grinning, he entered the PT room, his eyes finding her through the open supply closet door, stacking towels. He crossed the room, his cleats clawing the floor and alerting her to his presence. Elise turned and when their eyes met, she grinned hesitantly.
“Hey, what are you doin’ here?” She set the last of the towels on the shelf and turned towards him.
Blake leaned against the doorframe. “My throwing arm is tight. Coach said to have it looked at.”
Her eyes went to his shoulder and she bit her lip. “I think he probably meant Doc or Camden. I’m still in training, remember?”
“I remember.” He entered the closet, the small space pushing them together—something he liked quite a bit. “I want you.” The words came out all husky. Ever since the first time she’d touched him, he’d wanted that feeling back, the intimacy only she could create.
Her cheeks turned pink. Without thinking, he brushed his fingers across them.
“You want me?” she whispered.
It was Blake’s turn to blush. He hadn’t thought of the double meaning, but with the way their eyes held and the sense of electricity buzzing between them, he could understand how his words came across. While he wouldn’t mind exploring that option, he hadn’t come in here to come on to her. He’d wanted to be near her, to experience this connection that made him feel like his whole self.
Why had he come in here? Oh, yeah, his arm. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
“Oh.” The flush darkened to scarlet and she hurried through the door.
Blake wanted to bang his forehead against the wall. Somehow he kept messing up with this woman.
He easily caught up to her and hooked her elbow, turning her to face him. She stared at his chest. Normally he wouldn’t mind having her check him out, but he had the feeling that she wasn’t enjoying the view as much as she was avoiding him. He hooked his finger under her chin and tipped her face up until she met his eye.
“I meant, I want you to look at my shoulder. You get me—my body.”
She pressed her lips together, stifling a smile.
Okay, he sounded like a first-class idiot without game. Where had the smooth-talking pickup king gone? She could totally mock him and he’d deserve it.
She chuckled. “Get on the table.”
Relieved she let him off the hook, he grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”
Elise put her hand under Blake’s wrist and pulled his straight arm over his head. Touching him was one thing; she could focus on the scientific aspects of her work and distract her mind from the way her stomach flipped around. But Blake touching her was a whole other experience. She’d lost all her good sense, her wits, and her voice—barely able to whisper. Talk about loss of muscle control. The fact that she’d stayed on her feet was a miracle. She now understood the meaning of the word swoon.
“Keep your head forward,” she instructed as she rotated his arm. He didn’t need to, but she couldn’t concentrate with his eyes all over her. Their constant caresses were tangible—and distracting.
She bent his elbow and did another set of rotations. Closing her eyes, she pressed her palm to the back of his shoulder as she used the other hand to maneuver his arm. That connection, where his body spoke right to hers, was alive in an instant, only this time it was stronger and she realized he could read her too. Her heart fluttered and pounded and jumped around—electrified by his nearness.
As it had before, his body told her what she needed to know. The deltoid. She set his hand on the table to relieve the muscle and leaned in to use her thumbs to loosen the knot.
His hand didn’t stay there, though. No. Somehow, it found its way to her hip, where it rested comfortably. Elise released a breath she hadn’t known she was holding and her body moved closer to his of its own accord. Or maybe he pulled her to him. She couldn’t be sure, because her body responded to his touch without her having to think. Which was a good thing, because her ability to think was greatly hindered by the fog of attraction floating around them.
Her hands went still. “Blake,” she whispered, once again rendered unable to use her full voice.
Blake’s warm, minty breath brushed across her cheek as he cupped the back of her neck, bringing their foreheads together. “Yeah?”
Elise’s head swirled and her eyes dropped closed. She had a question, but at the moment, she’d forgotten everything except the places where their bodies touched. “Hmmm,” was all she could say.
Blake tipped her head and pressed a kiss to her mouth. Elise melted into the embrace. His lips were saying all the right things—communicating on a level she’d never known before.
He pulled back, the connection broke, and a soft whimper escaped her lips.
Blake wrapped both arms all the way around her, pulling her close. He spun around, sitting her on the table and leaning into it. Moving as one, they deepened the kiss. Elise was taken away with the intensity, words like companion, partner, lover, best friend, and soul mate went back and forth between them, amplified with each kiss, each touch. She wanted more, and then even more of Blake, her hands trembling as they clung to his arms, his neck, his chest, unable to drink enough of him in.
“What the …?”
The stranger’s voice invaded their moment. Elise’s eyes flew open and she glanced around to get her bearings. Her heart sank as the Redrocks logo came into focus. She shoved Blake away, needing to break the physical contact between them so she could be in control of her thoughts; at the same moment, she wanted to cling to him and never let go.
Her hand cupped her forehead.
Blake kept one hand on her elbow to steady her, but she could feel his need to steady himself. He hadn’t planned on that happening any more than she had—and he wanted to give her more of himself. She could feel his desire to hold her close burning into her skin—the need stronger than either of their good sense. She brushed his fingertips away, the complete separation like a thousand needles to the heart. Biting her lip, she managed to hold back another whimper.
They turned to face the man who’d interrupted. He didn’t look at all embarrassed; he looked mad. “How’s the shoulder?” he ground out.
Blake glanced at Elise. “It’s good, Coach. I’m ready to throw.”
Coach? Elise’s insides froze. Coach Wolfe—the new manager. She’d been caught kissing a player in the PT room by the new manager?! She bit back a string of words she was only allowed to use on the field. Of all the irresponsible, stupid, things to do.
Blake moved to touch her arm.
Anger like she’d never experienced before welled up inside. She couldn’t let him touch her—there was too much at stake.
Caught by the coach! She’d be lucky to keep her job—she was still in her thirty-day trial period. They’d fired that other girl, Michelle something, because of this exact thing. Her stomach, which had been running the bases with glee only moments before, sank to the floor.
She ducked away from Blake’s hand. The sadness in his eyes at her rejection was almost her undoing. But she wasn’t doing this to be mean. Didn’t he understand, couldn’t he see the trouble they were in? The contempt in Coach Wolfe’s stance? He should be as worried as she was, but his eyes only held a longing she refused to answer.
And then it hit her. Of course h
e wasn’t worried. Blake Rygs had a multimillion-dollar contract. He’d get paid sitting on the bench. He didn’t have anything to lose by messing with the new girl, but she could lose everything. Her job. Her income. Her dream of working in the MLB. If word got out that she was fired for fraternizing with the players, no other team would risk taking her on, no matter how good she was at her job. And she was awesome. She’d worked hard to get where she was, and Blake Rygs had put it all at risk and walked out to leave her to deal with the aftermath.
“Hold on.” Coach Wolfe blocked Blake’s exit. “If you two want to date or hook up—”
Elise lifted her chin. “We aren’t dating.” Juan had warned her about Blake. A ladies’ man—that’s what he’d called him. She didn’t believe him, not after Blake was so shy and nervous around her yesterday. She’d thought he was sincere, but it must have been an act. Well, he could just—
“Whatever this was—” Coach circled his finger. “—it ends. No more skipping practice.” He pointed at Blake. “If she’s a distraction, she’ll have to go. Understand?”
Her stomach cramped at the thought of losing her job. The job that paid her brothers’ graduation fees and bought gear so they could play at the college level.
Blake nodded and left.
Elise clasped her hands in front of her. She was sure her face was the same color as her hair. Curse her fair complexion. She was mad at Blake, at herself, and at her weakness where Blake was concerned. She should have stomped out every bit of that stupid crush. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know how that happened.”
“Does it happen often?” asked Coach.
She glared at the floor. “No! And it won’t happen again. I can promise you that.”
Coach nodded. “What’s your name?”
“Elise Smith.” She swallowed.
“Isaac Wolfe,” he introduced himself, and they shook hands. “And you’re a physical therapist?”
“Yes, sir.” She stood a little straighter. She may have been unprofessional kissing Blake like that—well, kissing him at all—but she was good at what she did. If anything, the last week had shown her that this is the work she was made to do.
“What brought you to the Redrocks?”
“I played softball at Western Nebraska. I took some PT classes and decided I like taking care of an athlete’s body more than I liked competing.” Her hands flew to her cheeks. “That sounds horrible! I’m not—I didn’t mean—” Her eyes darted to the door Blake had sauntered through and back to Coach Wolfe. When would she learn to filter her thoughts?
Coach laughed. He actually laughed. “Relax, I know what you meant.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve got to get back to work.” He paused, looking out the door and then back to her. “Be careful,” he admonished.
As in, I’d hate to have to fire you. “I will.” Elise glared at the massage table. She’d be as stalwart as the Green Monster. No more kissing Blake. Strike that—no more Blake Rygs at all. She’d pass him off to Camden and do everything in her power not to be caught alone with him—ever. If forced to work on him, she’d demand a chaperone. They were looking to hire two more PTs and she’d offer to help if it got the ball rolling. There had to be someone from her graduating class who still needed a job. The more people in here, the better, because if Blake looked at her with that longing, promising all the things he’d promised today with a kiss, she wasn’t sure she could hold herself back.
She waited until Coach Wolfe left the room before wrapping her arms around herself.
No more Blake.
The thought was almost painful, and yet she knew how to work through pain. A thought her coach used to yell as they ran the stadium stairs came into her head: “Pain is just weakness leaving the body.”
If that was the case, then she was awfully weak where Blake was concerned.
Chapter Seven
Blake paced the locker room. He was going to head out to practice, but he couldn’t leave without knowing what happened to Elise. Jane’s comment about Elise making enough money to feed the family scratched through his mind.
He stared at the television on the wall, not seeing the picture. A moment later, he heard movement in the hall. Poking his head out, he saw Isaac Wolfe headed towards the elevators.
“Coach!” Blake jogged down the hall, dulling his cleats on the concrete and not caring. “You didn’t fire her, did you?” Blake kept his voice low. Elise was furious—the fire in her eyes singed his pride. He hadn’t meant to kiss her—that wasn’t his purpose in seeing her. He’d just wanted to be near her. However, at her touch, something had happened between them. The connection he’d felt, where she could read him through his skin, had opened up and he’d been able to read her. What he’d discovered was beautiful, innocent, kind, tender, and alluring. So alluring he couldn’t help but want more and she’d given it. Opened herself up to him with so much trust it overwhelmed his senses.
“No. She’s still here.” Coach lifted his hand. “I meant what I said—”
“I know you did and I promise I’ll stay away. I promise. Just, she needs this job. I can’t be the reason she gets fired.” The accusation in Elise’s gaze had cut him to the quick.
Coach looked him over, seeming to consider his words. Blake begged with his eyes.
“All right.”
Blake sagged with relief. Elise was safe—that’s all that mattered. He’d made a horrible first impression on his manager, but he could overcome that. He’d follow every rule, take every scrap of advice, run fast, hit hard, and pitch with accuracy every single day.
What he couldn’t do was hurt Elise. He hadn’t meant to touch her or kiss her or put her job in jeopardy. Really. One second he’d been looking at the chart on the wall and the next he had his hands on her hip and in her hair. He’d never experienced anything like it. It was as if their bodies were created to be together and they knew it—but Blake and Elise were slow on the uptake.
“I’ll walk you back out to the field,” said Coach.
Blake didn’t need a babysitter—there was no way he’d sneak back into the PT room and he’d have to make sure he was only in there when there was another guy with him. But he’d gladly put up with the coach’s babysitting to keep Elise out of trouble. Once through the dugout, Blake left Wolfe to talk to Kimber and hustled over to the bullpen.
“All better?” asked Coach Andres.
Not even close. “I’m ready.” Blake threw a couple warm-up pitches. His arm was better. It was the ache in his chest he was worried about. Unfortunately, there was only one cure, but that was way out of his reach.
Chapter Eight
Blake leaned back against the bullpen wall and took a long pull of water. Zack Aden had pitched the first six innings against Washington and Paul Hodgson had been called in to close. They were hanging out on the bench, monitoring the game and dreading another loss.
“You wanna throw?” asked bullpen catcher Tommy Newton.
Blake checked with the bullpen manager, who gave them a nod to go ahead. Throwing a few was a good way to work off the frustration that losing a game hung on his shoulders. “Why not?”
He took up position on the practice mound. Normally, when he stepped onto the dirt, there was one thing and one thing only on his mind—the next pitch.
Today, his head was everywhere. One second he was at Costco loading enough groceries to feed a full roster, and the next he was on the massage table with his hands in her hair. Ah, that hair … and her skin—so soft against his palm. Right up until Coach walked in. Blake was having a hard time liking the guy tonight.
Isaac Wolfe had arrived in style, having first married the Redrocks’ owner. Wolfe had played respectable college ball, spent a few years in the minors, and then sequestered himself at a mediocre college back east as an assistant coach.
Talk about marrying up.
The team was holding their breath when it came to Coach Wolfe, and most were holding their opinions back. Everyone except Jackson Kimber. He had a chip the s
ize of Utah on his shoulder. Blake didn’t want to get involved in the battle of wills that brewed between the two. He just wanted to win. Win a stinking game.
Instead of focusing on the troubles with the team, which he couldn’t do anything about, he focused on an issue he could do something about: Elise.
He missed her.
Camden had taken over his regular PT work, seeing him through his daily routine while monitoring several other players. As far as Blake could tell, they were giving all the massages to Elise. No doubt she excelled in that area, but he was certain there was more she could be doing.
Vito Ramirez, standing just a few feet behind Blake, spoke. “It’s too hot for May.” He downed a cup of water.
“Aren’t you from the Dominican Republic?” asked Blake, amused.
Vito took another drink. “Why do you think I left?”
Blake chuckled. “You might as well get used to the heat—it’s only going to get worse.”
Vito made a face. “Speaking of heat, Juan says you’re into the new PT. You guys together?”
Blake growled. If it were up to him, they’d be together—close together. But it wasn’t up to him. Coach Wolfe made that perfectly clear. And there was no way he would jeopardize her spot with the team. Besides not wanting to mess up her life, she was good at what she did.
He missed her.
Vito crowed. “You chickened out—didn’t you? Man, she has you so wrapped up you’re ready for Christmas.”
Jackson Kimber happened to be walking by at that moment. His head swiveled first and then the rest of his body followed. “Who?”
“Nobody.” Blake warned Vito to keep his mouth shut with a death stare.
Vito shrugged. “Don’t know her name.”
Maybe he didn’t and maybe he did. Either way, Blake appreciated his silence.
Kimber pulled up a bucket and took a seat. “Listen. You’ve got needs, man. Just hit that and get her out of your head.”
“Dude!” Blake surged forward. Anger like he’d never experienced before blinded him to the consequences of hitting his fellow teammate, in the bullpen, during a game, in front of the new manager. Thankfully Vito saved him from himself by grabbing his arm and holding him back.
Delay of Game (Dating Mr. Baseball Book 1) Page 4
