"I remember the movie," Jordyn said. "Do you think the comparison between yourself and the main character is fair?"
"A drunk is a drunk, Jordyn." Murphy refused to paint himself as better than he was. "Don't fool yourself into thinking otherwise."
Jordyn stood. Her back to him, she snapped the suitcase closed.
"Do you want to scare me away, Murphy?"
"I told you the truth. What you do now, is your decision."
"The truth," Jordyn took a deep breath as she turned to face him. "However, only part of the story."
"Too many chapters. Too little energy."
Murphy was done. Shot. He couldn't summon the motivation to crawl under the covers let alone tell Jordyn what she thought she wanted to know.
"Another time." Jordyn let out a mirthless chuckle. "Seems to be our motto."
"Keep the t-shirt for yourself."
"I don't think so." Jordyn didn't try to rearrange the sheet. Instead, she pulled the blanket over him, tucking in the edges. "Your body needs rest."
"Thank you."
"Sleep."
Murphy thought he felt Jordyn brush a kiss across his forehead, but he wasn't sure.
"Jordyn?" he called out when she was almost out the door. "The puppy? I named her Casey."
"At the bat," Jordyn said. "Very appropriate."
The door clicked shut, and Murphy was alone. The woman was so damn smart, he thought. And kind. And beautiful.
Maybe Jordyn would decide he wasn't worth her time. Maybe she would open her heart and give him a chance to prove he deserved her. Maybe.
Murphy cleared his mind of every doubt and maybe. As he drifted off, only one thing remained. One thought. One Jordyn.
CHAPTER TWELVE
● ≈ ● ≈ ●
JORDYN HAD LOST track of how many baseball games she'd attended over the course of her life. Her father claimed when she was a baby, she spat up all over a future hall of fame pitcher during a player/fan meet and greet. Since she had been less than a year old at the time, she couldn't confirm or deny the facts. But the story was a good one, easy to picture, and never failed to amuse her family. Jordyn included.
Though her parents were season ticket holders, these days they often gave away their seats to friends. And why not? They'd earned the right to watch their superstar son from the luxury of the owner's personal suite.
An open invitation issued personally by Ross Burton to the entire Kraig clan, Jordyn would stop by to say hello—and raid the always lavish buffet. However, when the first pitch sailed over home plate, she preferred to be in the crowd, surrounded by enthusiastic fans.
"Did you try the sweet and sour chicken?" Rowan Cartwright asked. She licked her lips, shimmying her jean-covered hips. "Like tender little pieces of sesame-covered heaven."
Jordyn laughed. Rowan was a bundle of energy with the long, slender body of a supermodel, the face of the girl next door, and the brains to build a successful landscaping business from scratch. Twice. Engaged to the Cyclones second baseman, Nick Sanders, she was a welcome change in a sea of familiar faces.
"I'll eat later," Jordyn said.
With any luck, the platoon of butterflies in her stomach would settle down by the third or fourth inning. If not, she would skip the food and stick to herbal iced tea.
"Nervous?" Rowan asked, her blue eyes sympathetic.
Jordyn sipped at her tea and nodded. "Whether I have the right to be, is another matter altogether."
"Together or apart, you'll always care about him. Am I right?"
"Yes."
"I didn't want to fall in love with Nick. In fact, I—"
"Whoa. Who said anything about love?" Jordyn stepped back as if she could distance herself from the idea. "I like Murphy. Anything else is… No. Just no."
"What's just no?" Delaney Pope asked, coming in on the back end of the conversation.
Delaney plucked a piece of chicken from Rowan's plate. Jordyn and Blue had welcomed the women with open arms, and they had become a close-knit group. Off-season acquisitions, Delaney and Rowan laughingly called themselves, though they would have torn their men a new one if either had dared to make such a suggestion.
"Jordyn isn't in love with Murphy."
Rowan made the announcement with a bald honesty Jordyn almost admired. Almost. At least the other woman kept her voice low so nobody else could overhear.
"Too soon." A statement, not a question, Delaney nodded. "I understand. I didn't fall for Travis when we first met."
Like Rowan, Delaney was a newly engaged woman. Travis Forsythe was at the top of his game, considered by most to be the best shortstop in the league, and one of the kindest men Jordyn had ever known. The leggy brunette with the winning smile was a lucky woman. And Travis, a lucky man.
"You can't compare your situation to Jordyn's," Rowan insisted. "Few people take eleven years to fall in love."
"True," Delaney conceded, her unusual purple eyes sparkling. "But take my word, the result is worth the wait."
"I'm not waiting," Jordyn declared before her new friends had Murphy down on one knee and a ring on her finger. The very idea made her heart race. And not out of happy anticipation. "I'm not ready to fall in love. And even if I were, Murphy and I simply don't suit."
"Why not?" Rowan asked. "Though I can only go by my first impression, I think he's a sweetheart. And sexy."
"I agree. On both counts." Laughing, Delaney fanned herself. "I met Murphy before he had his hair cut and his beard trimmed. Wow."
"I miss the beard," Jordyn muttered. "And the hair."
"You have to admit, Murphy is just as hot now. Only in a different, less caveman kind of way."
"Twenty-first-century mountain man chic," Jordyn corrected Delaney. "According to Blue."
"Perfect description," Delaney agreed.
Rowan sighed, a slight, disgruntled frown marring her brow. "I didn't get to see the mountain man. Maybe Murphy will go native again after the season ends."
"Here." Jordyn handed Rowan her phone with the picture of Murphy.
Rowan's eyes grew wide with admiration. "Oh, my." Unknowingly she echoed Blue's initial reaction to the same photo. "I've always liked my men neatly groomed, but Murphy is a spectacular exception to the rules."
Blue, slightly out of breath, joined them. Dressed in wide-legged linen pants the color of a ripe peach and a short-sleeved silk blouse in a contrasting pale yellow, she made the rest of them look like bums.
However, to be fair, Jordyn knew Blue would have changed into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt in a flash if she could have. But unlike the rest of them, she was on the job. A pair of flats, as opposed to her usual spiked heels, was as casual as she would allow herself to get until she was off the Cyclones' clock.
"I have time for a quick break." Blue put a friendly arm around Jordyn's waist. "What are we talking about?"
"The same as everybody else, I assume," Rowan chuckled. "But we have graphics."
"Ah, yes. Murphy's before picture. And shirtless." Blue let out a whistle of appreciation. "Right now, you could make a pretty penny if you wanted to sell his wild-man image. I predict after the game, you could make a fortune."
"You really think Murphy will do well?"
Blue squeezed Jordyn closer. "No guarantees. But everybody I've spoken to in the organization is over the moon happy with what they've seen so far. Murphy came through his minor league stint with flying colors. And according to Spencer, his frame of mind is even better than his performance on the field."
Jordyn had to take Blue's word. She hadn't seen or spoken with Murphy since her visit to his motel room. Not counting a two-word text he'd sent her the next morning. Thank you. Always polite, Jordyn had texted back. You're welcome. Then, nothing but silence—on both ends.
"Whatever you did for him worked miracles," Rowan said, her gaze speculative. "A massage for his stiff muscles. And…?"
"A massage for his…?" Delan
ey urged with a teasing question.
One thing about her friends, Jordyn could always count on them to bring a smile to her lips just when she needed one the most.
"Use your imagination," she said.
"I will. Then, I'll try your technique on Travis and find out for myself where a massage can lead."
Rowan's grin widened. "Sounds like fun. Nick is always up for anything. Pun intended. How about Spencer, Blue? Are you going to give him a little hands-on attention?"
"Maybe," Blue said. "Seems you've started a trend, Jordyn."
A petite, dark-haired woman dressed in Cyclones' blue touched Jordyn's arm, drawing her attention.
"I don't mean to intrude. But your name isn't one I hear every day. By any chance are you Jordyn Kraig?"
"Yes," Jordyn answered. With a famous brother, she was used to strangers knowing her name. "May I help you?"
"Oh." The woman's eyes filled with tears before she practically collapsed into Jordyn's arms.
"Are you okay? Let me find you a place to sit."
On the ball, Blue grabbed a chair. Carefully, Jordyn lowered the sobbing woman.
"I'll get her some water." Rowan headed for the open bar.
Concerned, Jordyn patted the woman's hand.
"All these people packed in like sardines. The air can get a bit thin."
"No. I'm fine. Really." The woman sent Jordyn an embarrassed smile. "I feel like such a fool. But today has been a bit overwhelming. And—"
"Zelda? Honey? What happened?" A man knelt, worry written on his handsome face.
"I'm fine." Zelda smiled as she hiccupped. "Bob. This is Jordyn."
"The Jordyn?"
Jordyn and Blue exchanged bemused looks.
"You must think my wife and I are slightly touched in the head," Bob said as he helped Zelda to her feet.
"Of course not," Jordyn assured him. But he'd pretty much hit the nail on the head.
"Perhaps if we introduced ourselves, our behavior will make more sense. We're Bob and Zelda Baldwin. Murphy is our son."
Jordyn said a silent thank you to her mother for all the times she'd drilled home the importance of good manners. Rather than stare in stupefied surprise, she pulled herself together long enough to introduce Blue and Delaney.
"Here's the water." Rowan handed over the bottle. "I'm Rowan. And, if you don't mind me saying, neither of you looks old enough to have a son Murphy's age. Though I can see where he got his good looks."
"Thank you," Bob said. "On both counts."
"He's blushing," Zelda laughed. "My husband never has been able to take a compliment. Especially from a pretty young woman."
"Zelda," Bob chided while his blush deepened.
"When Mr. Ross offered to fly us here for the game as a surprise for Murphy, we didn't expect to meet so many of our son's friends."
One question answered, Jordyn thought. Like so many wealthy people, Ross Burton was a paradox. Hardnosed with a will of iron, he didn't think twice about crushing a business rival. Yet, he never failed to do the right thing for his employees. Making certain Murphy's parents were at the game was a perfect example.
"Murphy was ready to send us plane tickets," Zelda said. "But we didn't want to distract him."
"We'll surprise him after the game," Bob nodded.
"I'm sure Murphy will be thrilled to see you," Blue told the proud parents. "But if you don't mind me asking, how do you know Jordyn?"
Jordyn could have hugged Blue for asking the question since she couldn't think of a polite way to break the flow of the couple's excited chatter.
"Didn't we say?" Zelda rolled her dark eyes. "I swear my head has been in the clouds all day."
"Murphy mentioned you," Bob jumped in. "Several times, if memory serves."
"He told us what you did for him."
Jordyn almost swallowed her tongue. Luckily, Blue was good at reading her mind. And reining in her wayward thoughts.
"They mean the massage," Blue whispered for Jordyn's ears only. "Not the other thing."
Jordyn relaxed. Murphy wouldn't tell his parents about something so personal. So intimate. However, she was surprised he mentioned her at all. What had he been thinking?
"I didn't know what to think when Murphy told us his plans. Baseball wasn't the reason for his problems. But the fame and adulation didn't help." Zelda reached for her husband's hand as she took a ragged breath. "I know a lot of people want to see him fail."
"Even more are rooting for him to succeed," Jordyn assured her.
Zelda nodded. "Murphy mentioned how supportive you've been. How you helped him. I wanted to thank you."
"We wanted to thank you," Bob added.
"I helped a friend. Anybody would have done the same."
"Just like Murphy. He can't take a compliment either." Smiling, Zelda shook her head. "You did a good thing. Understood?"
"Yes, ma'am."
Despite Jordyn's first impression of the woman, Zelda Baldwin had an inner strength and resolve. Qualities Jordyn admired and aspired to.
"Good. Now, please excuse me. If I don't want to miss the first pitch, I better use the ladies' room." Zelda laughed. "Again."
● ≈ ● ≈ ●
THE GAME TURNED out to be routine. The Cyclones won behind solid pitching and a couple of timely hits by Drake Langford, the team's reigning rookie of the year who had picked up right where he left off from the season before. No sophomore slump for him.
As for the man who, at least for one night, was the center of the baseball world's attention? Unspectacular.
"Not hits. But no errors. And I didn't trip over my feet when I ran onto the field. Otherwise?" Murphy shrugged as he sat in front of his locker buttoning his shirt. "Much ado about nothing."
"What did you expect for your first game back?" Spencer asked.
"Oh, I don't know. I thought I might hit for the cycle—with a game-winning home run. Throw out a couple of runners. Maybe steal a base or two. Just to prove the old man still has some speed."
Spencer nodded as if Murphy's expectations had been entirely reasonable. "And between innings, you could have found a cure for cancer."
"Don't be ridiculous. I would have settled for the common cold."
When Spencer chuckled, Murphy turned his head, grinning. And received a wet towel to the face. His grin widened. Damn, he was glad to be back.
The camaraderie was what Murphy had missed most. Twenty-five men from different backgrounds and cultures. With different beliefs, both politically and spiritually. In any other situation, they probably wouldn't talk, let alone fall into any sort of friendship. Yet here they were. A team. On the field, they worked toward one goal. Off, they might not always get along. Or even like each other. But if one was pushed, to a man, the others had his back.
Today had illustrated the fact to perfection. Murphy knew some of his teammates weren't thrilled to have him around. However, Spencer was in his corner. Joined by Nick and Travis. The rest of the team fell in line because they respected the three men. Trusted their judgment. And basically, had no other choice.
"I don't have any margin for error."
"Question or fact?" Spencer asked.
"Fact. As we both know. I can't figure out if half the guys in this locker room want me to succeed or fail. But either way, if I put a foot wrong by even an inch, my teammates will be the first to call for my head."
"True."
Spencer's tone was so neutral, Murphy would have nodded off if he weren't so invested in the conversation. In contrast, his words dripped with heated sarcasm.
"Thanks for the pep talk, Yoda."
Spencer adjusted the collar of his jacket, one eyebrow cocked over his sharp-eyed gaze.
"Do you want to hear the rest of what I have to say? Or would you rather sit and wallow in a pool of self-pity?"
"I don't wallow," Murphy muttered. Then realized he was damn close. "Go ahead."
"Deep down, you
r teammates want you to succeed because the better you do, the better for all of us." Spencer brushed an imaginary piece of lint from his sleeve. His body language exuded Yoda-like cool. The words he shared were like a wake-up call to Murphy's flagging psyche. "The best way to shut the doubters down is to show up every day and prove them wrong."
When Murphy winced, rubbing the back of his head, Spencer instantly grew concerned.
"Are you okay?"
"I will be. But whatever you just used to knock some sense into me packed quite a wallop."
Relieved, Spencer fell back into his banter mode.
"I only pull the big guns out when absolutely necessary. Otherwise, they lose their impact."
"Thanks, man," Murphy said with complete sincerity.
"You guys about ready to head out?" Nick joined them, Travis by his side.
"You guys go ahead," Murphy said. "Skip asked to see me in his office for a quick review of tomorrow's pitching matchup."
"Do you think he can still handle such a young bunch of guys?" Travis asked when Murphy was out of earshot. "If the pitching staff doesn't respect him, there could be a mutiny."
"Murphy's size and reputation help." Nick frowned. "But, I have the same worries as Travis. We're already two months into the season. Murphy doesn't have time to pussyfoot around. He needs to make sure all those young brains are as sharp as their arms."
A disturbance from across the locker room caught their attention. The ruckus came from the same group of pitchers they were just talking about. Intrigued, Spencer watched as Murphy put himself right in the middle.
"Listen up. I won't tolerate foul language when children are present." Arms folded across his barrel-like chest, the blue of his eyes like chips of ice, Murphy nodded toward a toddler who played near one of the lockers. "Keep your mouth shut or your words G-rated. Do I make myself clear?"
"Sorry, Murphy. We didn't see the kid."
Only one of the young players spoke, but they all nodded in unison.
"Always be aware of your surroundings, boys. Now, go over and apologize."
"But she won't know the difference."
For the First Time (One Strike Away #$) Page 13
