For the First Time (One Strike Away #$)

by Mary J. Williams

  THE POUNDING IN Murphy's head had finally settled into a dull ping. Like a bent knuckle tapping on his brain as opposed to the earlier sledgehammer. If he were at home, he'd head out for a swim in his clear mountain lake. Or take the puppy for a walk in the seemingly endless woods.

  Instead, Murphy had made a conscious choice to leave his peaceful solitude for the city and a shitload of self-imposed chaos. The tie and jacket slung carelessly over a nearby chair and the Italian leather shoes, polished to a high shine, toed off the second he entered the house, were the kind of trappings he'd left behind without a backward glance.

  At one time, Murphy obsessed over his appearance. Today, other than a haircut and trim for his beard, he hadn't given his wardrobe a second thought. Cyclones management had sent the suit with a tailor to make sure the fit was just so. As he stood for the fitting, wishing he was anyplace else, Murphy knew without question that if the man he was today ever ran into his former self? The meeting would not end well.

  "I was a raging asshole." Hardly a revelation. Murphy turned his gaze toward the window. "At least we have water to look at, girl. Though Lake Washington is a damn sight bigger than our little pond."

  Fast asleep in Murphy's lap, the puppy sniffled, yawned, before she settled deeper into her favorite spot in the entire world. Casey—she finally had a name—well-fed and loved, had grown by leaps and bounds in the past six weeks. But she would never get too big for a happy snuggle. Casey had become his constant companion. An earnest and understanding confidant. And a ray of sunshine he hadn't realized he needed. And, now, couldn't imagine his life without.

  "I could have left you with Zeke," Murphy said as he absently scratched behind her ear. "The general offered to keep you while I was away. And the two of you get along like two peas in a pod."

  Casey raised her head, her eyes sleepy but solemn. Murphy interpreted the look to say she was right where she wanted to be. Where he went, she would gladly follow. Or, maybe she simply needed to go outside.

  "I'll take her."

  Blue O'Hara—a ray of sunshine with her fire-lit red hair and bright silvery eyes—lifted thirty pounds of dog as easily as if she weighed less than a bag of feathers. Casey sighed with contentment as she nuzzled Blue's neck. Murphy didn't blame her. Spencer Kraig's fiancée was a beautiful woman with a friendly smile and a warm personality. She didn't smell bad either.

  Murphy protested. "Spencer dropped us on you. Without a lot of notice, I might add. We don't want to be any bother."

  "Don't be silly." Smiling, Blue patted his shoulder. "My help—whatever you need—is part of the package."

  Tired, on edge, and sorry for the first time in months he couldn't swap out water for a tall beer, Murphy felt a twist in his stomach as a wave of resentment washed through his blood.

  "I know I fucked up in the past, but are the Cyclones so worried about their investment that their head of PR has to play babysitter? Don't you have a better way to earn your paycheck than keeping tabs on me?"

  The warmth in Blue's distinctive gray eyes turned icy. As quickly as he'd overreacted, Murphy regretted his words. He had the feeling he'd put his oversized foot in his mouth, but he couldn't pull the size thirteen appendage out fast enough to stem the damage.

  "Blue, I—"

  "Spencer considers you his close friend," Blue interrupted, her chin jutting out. "I meant to offer the same. My friendship. However, if you'd rather keep our relationship on a strictly professional plane, I can accommodate you. Now, if you'll excuse us. This little girl needs some fresh air. As do I."

  "Blue…"

  Spencer chuckled as he took the chair opposite Murphy. Together, they watched as Blue and the puppy disappeared out the French doors.

  "Pretty spectacular, isn't she?" He handed Murphy a bottle of water, then opened one of his own. "Knows how to shrivel a man's balls with one look." Spencer chuckled. "Damn, I love that woman."

  "I jumped to the wrong conclusion." Head first. "I'll apologize when she returns."

  Spencer dismissed Murphy's concern with a wave of his hand.

  "Blue understands the strain today put on you."

  Murphy nodded slowly. "I suppose strain is as good a word as any. The problem is, I didn't have to stand in front of a room full of bloodthirsty sports writers. Or let them and every talking head in the country gleefully stir up the past. The life I made for myself away from baseball and the public eye was a good one. Smooth and easy. Drama and bump free. I could have stayed where I was. Perfectly content."

  "If you were so content and happy, why did you jump at the chance to play ball again?"

  An excellent question with more answers than Murphy had yet to figure out. Partly, his old competitive spirit had kicked in. He hated to lose. Passionately. A trait he was certain he'd outgrown. Apparently, he was wrong.

  No matter how many accolades or awards had come before, the way Murphy left the game was a big fat red check in the loss column. Loser wasn't a word he wanted attached to his name. When Spencer came to him with maybe the craziest idea he'd ever heard, he should have said no.

  Yet here he was, ready to suit up again for the chance to wash the bitter taste from his mouth that, try as he might, he'd never been able to entirely wash away.

  "What if I fail?"

  "You knew the risk when you signed your contract."

  Good old Spencer. Yoda to his teammates. They first met when they played for the St. Louis Cardinals. Murphy, a few years older, but not half as wise. Spencer, the upstart rookie who would soon take the league by storm.

  A born leader even then, Spencer was the man everybody turned to for guidance. Murphy, on the other hand, had loved to party, happy to coast on his natural, God-given talents.

  The team bad boy and the whiz kid. Why they'd become fast friends was a mystery. But for some reason, they clicked, the bond strong. When Spencer left St. Louis to sign with the Cyclones, they stayed close. When Murphy hit rock bottom, Spencer was the first one there with a hand up.

  "You've put your ass on the line for me."

  Spencer took a long, thoughtful drink of water. When he lowered the bottle, a smile formed on his lips. One that didn't quite reach his eyes.

  "If you asked a favor of me, you know I would do my best to help you out."

  "I do."

  "Friends to the end."

  "Get to the point, Yoda."

  Spencer didn't rile easily, but when somebody pushed far enough, the man—much like his fiancée—could take his opponent down with a single look. Or a right cross to the chin if need be.

  "I'm convinced you can still play the game. The Cyclones' pitching staff is young and inexperienced. A veteran catcher is exactly what they need. However, if you can't hack the day-to-day grind, I won't think less of you."

  Murphy knew another shoe was about to drop. Any second.

  "But?" he prodded. Like with a Band-Aid, he preferred Spencer expose the wound with one quick, clean pull.

  "If you do anything to fuck with my team, I will be the first in line to kick your ass out the door. Have I made myself clear?"

  "As glass."

  Murphy looked at Spencer, his gaze unwavering. Spencer looked back. Thirty seconds passed. Then as if on cue, they grinned. The subject was closed. For now. Murphy was on probation and nobody, not even his best friend, was about to give him an inch of leeway.

  "You weren't quite so in my way or the highway emphatic when you first suggested I attempt a comeback," Murphy said, chuckling.

  Spencer shrugged. "I didn't want to say anything that might discourage you. But you knew without me telling you."

  Of all the baseball people Murphy knew, Spencer wasn't the most fanatical. Keep the game pure. Don't mess with tradition. And all that crap. What singled his friend out was his belief in team first. Not that he was a saint. Spencer was one of the best—if not the best—players in the game. And he didn't play for free by any means. However, he cared about more tha
n just winning. He looked out for his teammates with an unheard of and unwavering ferocity. Murphy included.

  "About my living arrangements." Murphy didn't want to sound ungrateful. Nor did he want to get in Spencer and Blue's way. Nobody appreciated a third wheel. "I need to find my own place. After all, I'm hardly a charity case."

  The creative ways Murphy had found to screw up his life read like a graphic novel. Vividly drawn but schizophrenic. Part slapstick. Part horror. However, he'd been smart about one thing. Money. With the eagle eye of an excellent business manager, the generous paychecks he'd earned during his playing days—and continued to pocket because of a guaranteed contract—had grown. And grown. And grown. To be honest, the amount was a bit mindboggling.

  "A place of your own would be impractical," Spencer said with a dismissive shake of his head.

  "But—"

  "A baseball season has a unique rhythm and routine. Remember? For the next few weeks, you'll be too busy to think about anything else," Spencer reasoned. "Even after you get your footing, we'll be on the road half the time. You might as well hang your hat where you're around friends instead of strangers. Nick and Travis are within shouting distance. If you get sick of us, one of them will be happy to take you in."

  "Nick and Travis are great guys. But they're in the same situation as you." When Spencer raised a questioning brow, Murphy wiggled his ring finger. "Each has a new fiancée."

  "Love is in the air." Spencer gaze softened as Blue entered, a tail-wagging puppy at her heels.

  "She did her business like a good girl," Blue placed her hand on Spencer's. Love indeed, Murphy thought as he witnessed the look that passed between the happy couple. "I think I'll turn in."

  "Give me a few minutes, I'll be right behind."

  "Good night, Murphy. And…" She leaned over to kiss his cheek. "Welcome to our home."

  Surprised, Murphy wondered—not for the first time—why he had been blessed with such amazing friends. After the crap he'd pulled and the bridges he'd burned, he shouldn't have anything left but ashes. Yet, here he was. Surrounded by second chances and some of the best people he'd ever known.

  "I told you," Spencer said with an air of justified smugness. "Our home is yours, Murphy. Besides, your wing of the house is practically in another zip code. Privacy won't be an issue."

  "Fine." Murphy held up his hands in surrender. "You win."

  "I usually do, my friend. I usually do." Spencer rose to his feet. "Two more things. First? Blue is a forgiving soul. Lucky for me. However, the apology you mentioned earlier would be a nice touch. For good measure, send a couple dozen roses to her office."

  "Flowers? Aren't they a bit of a cliché?"

  "If you'd done something really bad, Blue would shove them down your throat. Petal by petal. In your case? Trust me. Send the flowers. Now, I have a gorgeous fiancée waiting for me so, I'll say good night."

  "Wait," Murphy called out. "You said you had two more things to say. What was the other?"

  Without turning, Spencer answered as he continued up the staircase.

  "After you get settled. In a week or so. You and I need to have a talk."

  "About?"

  "You, my sister, what went on while she was at your cabin. And whether or not I need to kick the shit out of you."

  With a look over his shoulder, Spencer paused at the top, his green eyes so like Jordyn's, the realization was like a punch in Murphy's gut. Certain his point had been made, he disappeared down the hall.

  "Son of a bitch." Murphy rested his elbows on his knees. Rubbing his face, he sighed, "Jordyn."

  From where she had collapsed near his feet, Casey raised her head with a hopeful look in her big, brown eyes.

  "I know, girl." He patted her head. "I want to see her as much as you. More, if truth be told. However—"

  Casey whined as if she knew his destination and didn't approve.

  "How do you think Spencer would react if I pulled Jordyn into the chaos that surrounds me? I know." Murphy nodded to his silent yet perceptive friend. "Jordyn is an adult. She makes her own decisions. Runs her own life. If I go to her, I'll break the promise I made her father. And myself."

  If Casey could have rolled her eyes, Murphy was certain she would have chosen right then to show off her new skill.

  "Sorry, girl. Talking to you is one thing. You're a great sounding board. But the day I let a dog become the arbiter of my conscience is the day I head to the nearest mental health facility and ask them to throw away the key."

  As he stared out the window, watching the lights from the nearby houses play over the water, Murphy settled deeper into the chair. Before the summer ended, his path was bound to cross with Jordyn's. He hoped by the time they met again, her sweet taste would have faded from his memory. But he had his doubts.

  With a touch of the sadist, Murphy closed his eyes, licking his lips. Mmm, he sighed. Sweet. As if he'd just brushed his mouth over Jordyn's soft, smooth skin.

  The signs were there. Murphy knew how an addiction could grab hold with a vice-like grip, determined to never let go. However, as surely as he breathed in and out, unlike alcohol and drugs, Jordyn would never try to drag him down into a miasma of destruction and regret.

  The old Murphy, filled with too much ego and too little self-awareness, wouldn't have hesitated to rush forward without a second thought about the consequences. But not this time.

  "Jordyn isn't an addiction." Murphy let out a humorless chuckle. "Though she's damn potent. And lingers in the blood longer than any drug."

  The first time Murphy saw Jordyn, he'd pegged her as dangerous. He'd been wrong. She could be the best thing to ever happen to him. The problem? He knew for her sake, he should stay away. Because he didn't want to turn out to be the worst thing to ever happen to her.

  ● ≈ ● ≈ ●

  SUNDAY DINNER WAS a Kraig family tradition. Some of Jordyn's fondest memories involved sitting around the big mahogany table her mother pridefully kept polished to a high gleam. As she and her brothers grew from childhood to adolescence, their lives became busy with friends and afterschool activities. Full schedules meant crazy hours and meals were eaten at whatever hour they wandered in.

  However, one night a week, Dorothy Kraig had insisted they sit down together. No excuses allowed. The tradition continued long after the nest was empty. If physically possible, they gathered together every week. Not out of obligation or maternal dictate. They came out of respect for the parents who raised them. But most of all, they came out of love.

  As Jordyn took plates from the antique sideboard, she thought about the tales the dining room walls could tell. Stories of laughter and tears. Arguments never left to fester for long. She and her brothers had forged an unbreakable bond over big meals while they recounted their weekly adventures in the outside world.

  A safe haven. A nurturing, happy environment. And—big bonus—Jordyn could honestly say she liked her family as well as loved them. She didn't know a lot of her contemporaries who could claim the same.

  "Humming and smiling. You must have had a good day," Spencer said as he entered the room.

  Without a second thought, he drew Jordyn in for a hug. Just as naturally, she hugged him back. She loved all her brothers, but she'd always had a special connection with Spencer.

  "Not as good as yours." Jordyn handed him a stack of napkins. "An extra-inning win? Very nice."

  "I'll take the W," Spencer acknowledged as he placed a napkin next to each plate. "However, if Broadbent hadn't blown the lead in the seventh, I would have been here an hour earlier."

  "If the catcher had blocked the ball in the dirt, the Rangers wouldn't have scored the tying run."

  Jordyn refused to mention Murphy by name. However, she'd opened the door, all Spencer had to do was cooperate and step through.

  "As catchers go, Wilt Pearson is at best a backup for a backup." Spencer executed a perfect what will be, will be shrug. "Hopefully, he can hold the p
itching staff together until Friday."

  Frustrated, Jordyn almost growled until she saw the familiar teasing light in her brother's eyes. Damn him. He wanted her to ask about Murphy. Usually, in a battle of wills, they were evenly matched. But, tonight, Jordyn was afraid she would be the first one to blink.

  "The Cyclones sent Murphy down to the triple-A club in Tacoma," Blue said, just in time to save the day. Normally, she didn't take sides between her best friend and her fiancé. But tonight, she stood firmly with Jordyn. "He needs to knock off the cobwebs and get back his rhythm. A few games, then he'll join the big club."

  Jordyn nodded. A short stint in the minors was routine for anybody who hadn't played in a while. She should have remembered. The look Spencer gave her said he agreed. And that he knew why she wasn't as quick on the uptake as usual.

  "About Murphy—"

  "No." Blue jumped in. "You don't get to go there, Spencer."

  Spencer crossed his arms, a stubborn glint in his green eyes. "My friend. My sister. My business."

  "He really believes what he said," Blue laughed, turning to Jordyn. "You didn't interfere when your best friend started dating your brother."

  "Jordyn and Murphy are different from you and me."

  "Because…?" Blue's raised brow dared Spencer.

  "Fine. You want the truth? Jordyn is a girl. There. Are you happy?"

  "On so many levels, the last thing I am is happy. First?" Blue waved a finger in Spencer's face. "Jordyn is a woman."

  "Stuff the P.C. crap, Blue. Girl. Woman. You know what I meant."

  "I know exactly what you meant, fella."

  Quietly, Jordyn backed from the room. She would have stepped in if she didn't have the feeling Blue and Spencer got a charge out of arguing. They obviously enjoyed the chance for a little verbal sparring. Far be it for her to interrupt.

  In the kitchen, Dorothy Kraig gave her husband a piece of cheese stuffed celery, followed by a kiss. Such a handsome couple, Jordyn thought with pride. Nearing sixty, they looked a good decade younger. We take care of each other, her mother once said. They watched their diets. Took long walks. Loved. And laughed. A lot. They had found the perfect prescription for a long, happy, healthy life.