Delay of Game (Dating Mr. Baseball Book 1)

by Lucy McConnell

  Kimber laughed at Blake. “See. She’s all up in here.” He tapped his temple. “You gotta get her out of there. And there’s only one way to do that.”

  “Are we gonna throw or what?” called Tommy.

  Blake was still glaring at Kimber when Vito shoved his mitt into his gut. “Forget him. You pitch.”

  Blake stomped over to the board. There was no hotter spot on the field than the pitcher’s mound. The pile of red dirt drew the sun, and every eye in the stadium waited for his first pitch. Of course, the bullpen wasn’t as heated, but springtime in Southern Utah was plenty warm.

  Blake took off his ball hat, swiped the sweat off his forehead, and set the hat back in place. Rolling his shoulders back, he thought about what Elise said—about how people store memories in their muscles. If so, Jackson Kimber’s comment was in a knot under his shoulder blade. Elise would know how to work it out. Man, Vito was right—she had him all wrapped up.

  Tommy signaled a fastball. Blake nodded, set the ball in his hand, kicked out his leg, and let it fly.

  “Strike one!” called Vito.

  Tommy tossed the ball back. Blake shuffled his feet and readjusted his hat. Tommy signaled another fastball. Blake shook his head. He signaled a curve. Blake shook his head. He signaled a changeup. Blake nodded. After the heat he’d just thrown, a changeup would have a batter swinging like a kid on the playground.

  Blake wound up and threw. The pitch shaved the outside of the plate. Blake rolled his shoulders. He just couldn’t get loose.

  Elise could help. What was she doing right now? The PTs were there for pregame and postgame, so maybe she was in the stands. He glanced up at the seats he could see from his low vantage point and didn’t find her.

  Tommy signaled a curve. Sure, why not? Blake adjusted his grip, placing his middle finger on the inside of the seam, and settled into the windup. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of red hair. He threw, not twisting his hand like he should on release, and the ball hit the dirt in front of the plate. Tommy dropped to his knees and saved the ball. He threw it back.

  Blake rubbed his thumb across the stitches. Kimber was only partly right. Elise was all over in his head, but she was in his skin too. That was the hard part, the craving for her touch. There was no getting Elise out of his system. If anything, their kiss had imprinted her into his system for good.

  And he’d screwed it up.

  Without reading the signal, he threw his fastball. It crushed Tommy’s mitt and he glared. Blake cringed. “Sorry.”

  Tommy shook out his glove hand. “Little warning next time.”

  “Yeah.” Blake tossed the ball to Vito. “You’re up.”

  Vito grinned. “You ready for this?” he asked Tommy.

  Tommy crooked his finger. “Bring it.”

  The guys bantered back and forth as they threw. They kept one eye on the game in case coach wanted to call one of them in. The Redrocks were tanking fast.

  After the game—another loss—Blake ignored reporters and trudged home, hating the bare walls, the sparse furniture and the lack of Elise more than anything else.

  Chapter Nine

  Elise managed to avoid Blake before and after the games by running to the ladies’ room when he was due for PT work. Anywhere else in the stadium and there’d be a line snaking out of the women’s restroom, but down here the sound of ripping paper towels bounced off the walls. The bottom floor was a guys’ club, but she was used to that at home with three brothers.

  Thoughts of home had her thinking about her dad. He’d taught her to play ball before the triplets were born. If anything could get him out of this funk, it would be his love of the game.

  The red tiles announced her footsteps, so she just leaned against the counter, waiting out the last five minutes it would take Blake to leave the PT room.

  She didn’t hide because she didn’t want to see Blake. She hid because she wanted to see him. Wanted very much to be close to him. But she was afraid that if she allowed herself even a small sampling, she’d end up binging. Binging was bad. Binging meant she was out of control, like she’d been when she allowed him to lift her onto the massage table and kiss her senseless.

  She buried her face in her hands. She was so out of control when it came to Blake. That was the only explanation for what happened between them. Despite the wonderfulness and heat of the moment, she was still angry with him for coming in when he should have been at practice. He should know better; especially with a new coach.

  She checked her watch, washed her hands for good measure, and headed back to the PT room. Camden was at the whiteboard, adjusting the schedule for after the game. Blake was the relief pitcher behind Jackson Kimber tonight so both men would get a full workup. They were on Camden’s side of the board. She got Juan’s ankle again. He’d re-sprained it sliding into second last night. She also had Dustin Colt, the shortstop, who had a sore back but played like he was in the best shape of his life. And Joe Lemke Jr., the first baseman, who had complained of a tight neck. Other guys would filter in for ice baths and such. Everyone had a recovery routine.

  Camden smiled over his shoulder. “I’m going to go grab some sushi. You want anything?”

  She shook her head. “I brown-bagged it today. Thanks, though.” She pulled her lunch bag out of the mini fridge. “What’s with you and sushi?” She’d only worked there a week and this was the fourth time Camden mentioned the Japanese dish.

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “There’s this hostess …”

  “Ah.” Elise broke into a grin. “Have you asked her out?”

  “Not really. She takes her break and sits with me while I eat, though. That’s a good sign, right?”

  “It’s a good sign.” She put her bag on the counter and took the cleaner from his hands. “I’ll finish up here—you have a date.”

  “She might not even be there,” he protested.

  Elise pulled the cleaner out of his reach. “But she might.”

  He backed towards the door. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes! Go.” She sprayed the exercise ball with cleaner and began to wipe it dry.

  “Thanks, Elise.” He was gone before she could reply.

  Shaking her head, she went to the television and turned up the volume so she could hear the announcer while she worked. Kimber was struggling and it wasn’t long before Coach Wolfe headed out to the mound. Oh man, that wasn’t a good sign. Her hands stilled as she watched the confrontation unfold. The two went back and forth before Wolfe finally stormed back to the dugout.

  Elise went back to cleaning until the announcer said, “Looks like Coach Wolfe is calling in right-hander Blake Rygs.” Her eyes glued themselves to the screen as Blake jogged in from the bullpen. He looked good, strong, confident. They went to commercial while he warmed up on the mound. Elise chewed her lip, anxious to get back to the game. She could wander upstairs and watch from the upper deck, but she liked seeing Blake up close without him seeing her.

  She tucked the cleaner away and threw the rag in the dirty clothes basket in the corner. Pulling the exercise ball underneath her, she settled in to watch the game. Blake did great for three pitches, and then he had one go wide. Rex was able to grab it, but not before the runners advanced. She cringed. A mistake like that could shake a guy.

  Blake needed to focus. This was his first game in front of Coach Wolfe and she’d bet season tickets Coach was taking mental notes.

  “Come on,” she muttered.

  Camden returned, a whistle on his lips and bounce in his step.

  Elise straightened up and sent him a knowing smile. “How was dinner?”

  “So good.” He grinned. “How’s the game?”

  “Not so good.”

  Camden pulled up a stool and they turned their attention back to the screen.

  The next batter read Blake’s sinker like a picture book and smacked it out to left field. Brian Tuttle made an easy catch and Elise released her breath. She chewed her thumbnail, pouring her will i
nto the television and wishing Blake could feel how much she wanted him to succeed.

  For the rest of the game, she bounced up and down on the ball, her adrenaline surging each time Blake threw.

  By the time the game was over and the players trickled in, she was the one who needed a massage. Of course, the loss was hard on all of them. As professional athletes, they had an inner drive to win, win, win. Their DNA wasn’t programmed to take losing well.

  Blake was held back by reporters, so she managed to get her work done, her area clean, and head over to Doc’s office before he entered the PT room. She and Doc discussed her first week and the players she’d worked on today. The team had one more home game against Seattle and then a couple days of practice before leaving for a four-game series against Colorado. Elise had practically lived at the stadium for the last few days but would have time off while the team was away.

  The break was appreciated. Her brothers were graduating soon and there was always something that needed to be done around the house. Her laundry pile alone would take a half day to summit.

  Summer was seeping into the cracks and the sun still had a few hours before it got to hit the sack. Elise approached her little Honda, noting the way the front end tipped wonky. Walking around, she groaned—flat tire. She glanced around to see if anyone was near. There were a few cars left and plenty of light, but no people. Pulling out her phone, she stared at the screen. Jane wasn’t old enough to drive and her brothers and mom were at graduation practice. She was about to try her dad when a shiny black convertible pulled to a stop behind her car.

  Her heart flipped as Blake pulled off his sunglasses. Every bit as gorgeous as any model, he filled out that car as beautifully as he filled out his uniform. Thinking about what filled out his uniform brought to mind the image of him shirtless on her massage table. Which was exactly where her mind should not travel.

  She glared.

  Blake lifted his eyebrows at her open hostility. She didn’t care. Anger was her only tool in keeping those butterflies under control. She’d be mad all day long and take it into extra innings if that’s what it took to stay on top of her Blake issues. Besides, she hadn’t forgiven him for tempting her in the first place. He should know how alluring he was. He did know. And he’d flaunted all that right in front of her as if she had the willpower of Samson. Wait, that wasn’t right.

  Blake got out of the car and approached her tire.

  Where’s my Sunday school teacher when I need her? “What are you doing?”

  Ignoring her, he ran his hands over the tread and around the side of the tire. After a moment, he stopped and smiled. “Screw.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “There’s a screw in your tire. Right here.”

  Elise leaned around him, catching his fresh showered scent and going to noodles in the process. Digging her fingers into her leg, she refocused on the car. Sure enough, there was a gold screw head embedded in her tire. “I’ll call my dad—he has some of that foam inflater stuff.”

  “Won’t work.” Blake rose to his full six-foot-two height. Elise stared up at him, the early summer sun lighting him from behind like some Avenger. He quite literally took her breath away. “The puncture is in the sidewall. You need a new tire.”

  Elise bit back her on-field words as she got to her feet. “Of course I do.”

  Blake’s hand found her lower back. The butterflies she’d battled each time the camera zoomed in on him during the game turned into softballs. Fast ones with spin. He nudged her towards the back of her car and she let him, relishing the feel of his warm hand on her back.

  “Do you have a spare?” he asked.

  “No.” Her spare was on the triplets’ car.

  “I’ll drive you to the tire shop.” Blake maneuvered her towards the passenger side of his convertible and she let him—right up until she remember that she was mad at him.

  “I can’t go with you.” Elise spun away. “Coach Wolfe will fire me.”

  Blake looked around, selling innocence that she wasn’t buying. “He’s not here.”

  Yeah, why should he care? She gritted her teeth. “Doesn’t matter if he’s here or not. I’ll call my dad—thanks.”

  Blake leaned against the front of his car, looking every bit the baseball calendar pinup—except he had a shirt on.

  Although, she could easily picture what he’d look like with it off.

  Except she wasn’t going to do that because she was mad at him!

  She growled.

  Blake lifted one eyebrow. “I’ll wait until he gets here.”

  “Suit yourself.” She dialed, turning her back on the stunning vista and staring at the red cliffs instead. Pick up. Pick up. Oh, please pick up. No one answered. She hung her head.

  “How about a neighbor?” Blake offered.

  Elise thumbed through her contacts list. The phone was pretty new and she hadn’t programmed many numbers into it since she moved home. She shook her head as she turned back around.

  “A friend?”

  She could call Doc’s office, but she’d left their meeting feeling as if he saw her as competent and doing well. Not that a flat tire was her fault per se. She just didn’t want her new boss to have to take care of her.

  Camden was probably eating leftover sushi with his cute hostess right now.

  Even though she’d grown up in St. George, she’d lost touch with her high school friends when she went to college. “You’re making me feel like a loser here,” she said with a hint of lightness she didn’t feel. Nothing sucked more than being stranded with no one to call. Okay, there were worse things in the world, but right now nothing in her life sucked more.

  “You’re a loser?” Blake pointed her direction. “You just went through every contact you have before choosing me. I’m literally the last person you want to be with right now.”

  He wasn’t, but she couldn’t tell him that.

  His shoulders dropped. “Come on. You can duck down so no one sees you with me.”

  The idea that she would be embarrassed by Blake was kind of funny. She bit back a smile. “If you’re my only option, I guess I don’t have a choice.”

  “Thanks. Thank you ever so much.” Blake held her door open and she slid in.

  Elise didn’t duck down in the seat, but she did keep her face turned away from the window and stared at her hands for most of the ride. No sense giving anyone on I-15 the chance to recognize her. Of course, with her red hair and the top down she was pretty hard to miss. One of the triplets or her mom could have picked her out without a problem.

  Blake eased into a parking spot at a tire store. The kind of place Elise didn’t usually shop for tires. Costco was more her speed and budget, but there was no way she was asking him to head to the other side of town. The sooner she got out of his periphery vision, the better.

  “I’ll just be a minute.” She put her hand on the door handle.

  “I can get that for you.” Blake turned off the car and unbuckled his seat belt.

  “No thanks.” Elise hopped out of the car and was halfway to the entrance when she heard, “Wait up.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You don’t need to come in. I can take care of this.”

  “Psh, yeah you can!” He lifted a shoulder. “I want to check out the tires.”

  She folded her arms. “Seriously?” That was the lamest excuse she had ever heard. Why not just tell her that she was a girl and girls obviously know nothing about tires so he was going to come in and go all macho on her?

  “Yeah.” He looked at her like she was crazy for not wanting to browse the newest radials.

  “Whatever.” She marched in, opening the door for herself. Weak little woman? I don’t think so.

  “How can I help you folks?” asked a man with a name badge that read Chris. He was a little overweight and had hair on the sides but not the top of his head. The sides were cut close and his smile was quick.

  “We’re not together.” Elise waved her hand towards Blake. />
  “I’ve got this one,” said a younger version of Chris as he came around the counter to talk to Blake.

  “Sorry ’bout that.” Chris set aside a stack of grease-smeared papers. “What can I help you with?”

  Elise explained about the tire.

  “Is the hole in the tread or on the side?” Chris asked.

  She paused, not because she didn’t know the answer but because Blake had taken the time to point it out to her in the parking lot. Like he’d known she would need to know where the hole was or something. “The side.”

  “That means you’ll need a new one.”

  She bit her lip and nodded. Blake had already told her that. “Do you have a used one?”

  He asked for the make and model of her car, typing the info into the computer. After a moment, he said. “I’ve got one out back that you can take with you for thirty-five bucks.”

  “Okay, I guess that will have to do.” And it would too, at least until she had a couple paychecks under her belt. She paid with a debit card.

  Chris nodded and disappeared behind a blue metal door with a window. Through the window she could see a red car on a jack, the mechanic loosening the bolts around the tire. Once the noise from the shop died away, she turned to find Blake deep in conversation with Chris Jr.

  “They have the Variable Contact Patch 2.0.”

  “What’s the belt?” asked Blake.

  “Twaron,” said Chris Jr.

  Blake bobbed his head. “Sweet.”

  “I can have them next week.”

  “Thanks. I’ll come by after we get back from Colorado.”

  “Great. It was nice meeting you, Mr. Rygs.”

  “Call me Blake.” Blake stuck out his hand. He didn’t pay one bit of attention to the grease as black as night around Junior’s nails and in the cracks of his skin as they shook hands. Elise pressed her lips together, considering his friendliness and open way of talking to strangers. He seemed like such a good guy …

  The shop noise filled the showroom and Elise spun to see Chris rolling out a tire. “Do you need help putting this on?”