by Caryl McAdoo
“Of course not. But I did invite him and Cate to come stay at the house when we get back from California.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Yes, I sure did. Told him we’d fly up to get ’em. Promised to get him some tickets for the game—I’ll get some killer seats he’ll love—and suggested we plan it for my next home start.”
“What did he say?”
“That he’d talk it over with Cate. No big deal. That gives you plenty of time to break it to him that you’re living at my house in your own room. All the better for you, right? What can he say if he and Cate are doing the same thing?”
“You do not know that, but anyway, I don’t want to go there. Daddy is…well, he’s….”
He patted her hand. “I know. Thinking about our parents having a sex life is…well, I understand.”
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
Gij taxied the Cessna into its hangar space then killed the engine. He unbuckled then reached across Sammi Dan and opened her door. She disentangled herself, retrieved her purse from the back then climbed out.
Once on the hangar floor, she stepped back a few feet.
He hopped down then held his arms wide. Him and his big mouth.
She ran to him and snuggled in tight.
He wrapped his arms around her. “Poor baby.”
For too long, she pressed herself hard into his chest.
Oh Lord, so soft, so vulnerable.
He’d never wanted anything more than he wanted Samantha Danielle, to keep her safe, to become one with her, make her his wife. Breathing a deep breath, he inhaled the fragrance of her.
A spring meadow of flowers, light and sweet, filled his senses.
He pressed his cheek to the top of her head. It weirded him out a bit that his heart was so intensely committed after such a short time knowing her, but then he’d thought about her—thought hard about her—a long time; ever since.…
She tilted her head back. “Gij?”
He looked into her eyes. “What, Sweetie?”
“Don’t ever let me go.”
“Wouldn’t that be wonderful? But we’re leaving in the morning.”
“I know.”
She stretched her neck and must have gone up onto her tippy toes. Her full, lush lips waited only inches from his, invited him. He resisted for a heartbeat then succumbed. She tasted so good, so supple and wet and wonderful.
Closing her eyes, she pressed harder into him. He kissed her back until from his core, a small still voice whispered.
No.
Strength flowed into his arms. Gently, he pushed her away. “Now I’m the poor baby.”
Her lips turned down. She gave him a I-can-fix-it smile.
He backed away a step. “I need to get to the ballpark.”
She nodded. “Do we have time to go home?”
“Sure.”
While he herded his oversized truck north through Grand Prairie, Sammi Dan studied her Gij. Just like the song said, it was in his kiss. He loved her, she knew it. No way he could kiss her like he just did and not love her.
And she loved him.
But how could it be in so short a time? Probably only lust. That she wanted him so bad because she couldn’t have him. Or maybe his money. His fame?
Whatever! She enjoyed a bit of that herself, trending up and all. But even that should be accounted to the pitcher. Without him what? Except Mr. Yancy had sent her to Mexico City, but.…
It hit her like a watermelon from on high. Had Gij been responsible for that, too? Called her boss and asked him to? It all swirled together.
He stopped at the front gate, clicked it open, then jumped out while the chain link sections rattled apart. “Hey, it came.”
She unbuckled her seatbelt and leaned over. “What?”
He climbed back in holding a medium sized box, grinned at her, then handed the package over.
“You liked the others so much, I figured with the road trip coming.…” He threw her a sheepish grin. “Plus I loved the fashion show.”
More clothes? Would this guy ever stop surprising her? “Hurry, I want to see what you got me.”
“Okay, but don’t try them on yet. Not enough time now.”
Waiting busted her chops, but if he could, so could she. “Oh alright. If you can stand it, so can I. You don’t know, right? Did you call the same lady?”
He nodded. “But I did, uh, well…you’ll see.” He steered around the house to the garage.
She jumped out and hurried to her room. What had he done? Sitting the box on her bed, she stared at it while undressing then carefully hung up her Hawaiian dress. He was right, and she needed to see to her job.
No matter how much she wanted to walk his private runway, she still had bills to pay.
Hey, wait! It was Saturday, and she hadn’t even paid any bills or checked her bank balance in….oh, tater tots! She hated worrying about money, trying to balance things so she’d have enough to cover all her expenses.
And she scraped to barely have leftovers for the fun stuff. But she had to be in good shape with Gij paying for everything. She hadn’t even spent a dime on groceries in…how long?
Wow, it must be nice not ever thinking about money.
It was.
Crispits, she hadn’t given it a thought since she went to Mexico. She flipped through her old and new hanging on the closet bar and settled on one of her favorite pair of slacks, then chose a blouse she hadn’t worn it in a while.
Since she wouldn’t be interviewing Gij after the game anyway, she’d save her new outfits for the California trip.
Had April arranged anything for that night?
She dug in her purse and fished out her phone. Day old donuts! Dumb cell. Deader than a vulture’s dinner. Oh well, she plugged it in then wove her arms up through her ruffled, glittered blouse.
“You ready?” His voice filled her ears with sweetness. She’d never tire of hearing that baritone. Or deep tenor or whatever; she didn’t know. All she knew for certain? She loved it, whichever.
Matter of fact, was there anything about him she didn’t love? A quick mental list produced not one little thing.
“Yes, I am, are you?” He didn’t answer. She found him in the kitchen.
“Oh. Wow.” His eyebrows shot up, and his lips thinned, but not in a smile, more a grimace.
“What’s wrong?”
“I…oh, nothing. It’s just…nevermind. Sorry, I’ve haven’t seen you in pants before.”
“Really? Uh, well. Don’t wear them too much, but it is Saturday, and I really like these slacks.”
“They look great on you, but…”
“But what?” She couldn’t believe it. Someone tell her he wasn’t one of those religions, Amish or Mennonites, maybe the Holy Rollers who didn’t allow their women to wear pants, only skirts or dresses.
Well, there’s one thing she didn’t love about him.
Should have found out more about his beliefs. Sounded to her like he might be some kind of control freak. Her face burned. “Are you saying you want me to change?” He didn’t deny it immediately. “You do, don’t you?”
“Would you mind?”
The yes didn’t make it out. She wanted to tell him that no one’d told her how to dress since she’d been big enough to dress herself, but that wouldn’t be exactly true. Her Daddy nixed more than a few outfits over the years.
He hated a couple she’d put together when all the other girls in high school wore low cut blouses. And then her old boss had tried taking her shopping, but she had wanted her to go the other direction.
Face burning, she boiled the situation down. Who was she trying to impress? No one but Gij, so if he preferred skirts and dresses, what was the big deal? After all, he’d bought her plenty of wonderful outfits to choose from.
She swallowed and smiled. “Sure, anything in particular?
“Wouldn’t that new skirt look great with that blouse?”
She decided on her full khaki skir
t since the blouse was brown hues. She wanted to save her Neiman’s stuff for when she interviewed him, not some bench guy April dug up, and no way was Banister going to pitch Gij that night.
She marched back to the kitchen then twirled, making her skirt fly out a little. “How’s this?”
“Excellent. One more ‘poor me’ moment.”
She smirked. No way could he blame her for him torturing himself. Still, she loved the look in his eyes. Mango, oh mango! His crazy was contagious. “Need a hug?”
He laughed then nodded toward the garage. “Come on. You’ve got ballplayers to interview, and who knows? I just might –”
“No sir. Don’t let him pitch you again tonight.”
“Hey girl, what’s your problem? The old timers use to pitch both ends of a double header. And I only threw twelve live pitches last night, so it’s no big deal.”
“Plus warm ups, and you could hurt your arm!”
“No way. Nolan Ryan threw over two hundred pitches a couple of times. My arm’s fine. I can go an inning or two if they need me, and I plan on saying as much.”
“And still start on Monday in LA I suppose.”
“Of course, like I said, the arm’s fine.” Irritation tainted his tone, and its volume raised a couple of decibels. He held his right arm out and flapped it like a wing. “See, I’m okay.”
Well! “Okay yourself.” Her own tone wasn’t peaches and cream. Sautéed angel food cake if she ever said another word about his stupid arm. Excuse her for caring!
He’d be the one who’d live with the regret if he messed things up. She stormed through the garage door and climbed into the truck without another word. He didn’t have to talk to her like that.
She was right. Gij shouldn’t be throwing so much, but she didn’t have any business sticking her nose in his business. If what Pappaw told him…well…he didn’t need to make anything happen, either it was or it wasn’t a true word.
A heavy sigh escaped to interrupt the silence. He glanced over. She stared out the window. Maybe he shouldn’t have been so short, especially after she went and changed for him.
Right before he pulled up to the guard shack, he touched her arm. “So, guess we had our first fight. I’m sorry, and you’re right. I don’t have any business pitching tonight.”
She smiled. “Good. I accept your apology. So are we going to kiss and make up or what?”
He wanted the kiss for sure, but wasn’t sure he could handle another one. He stuck out his hand. “How about we shake on it.”
She pulled back then shot him a you-don’t-have-any-idea-what-you’re-missing-sucker smile. “No. It’s a rule somewhere a couple can only kiss and make up. Handshakes aren’t allowed. They’re prohibited, and don’t work anyway.”
The guard waved him in, and he pulled into his new spot. “So you’re making up rules now?”
“Hey, I didn’t make it up, but I know for a fact it’s a rule. Ask anyone.”
He pulled his hand back.
Mercy Lord, give me strength.
“Fine then, guess you don’t want your new stuff.”
She grinned. “I didn’t say that.”
“Oh.” He laughed then nodded toward her door. “Go to work.”
Sammi Dan blew him a kiss then waltzed into the press room in a much better mood. Although she wasn’t entirely accepted by the real sports reporters yet, at least a few of them looked up and acknowledged her entrance.
Little by little, she was winning them over.
April rushed over. “Where have you been? I texted you at least a zillion times today.”
“We flew north to Dimple. G.H. wanted to meet my dad. And you won’t believe what I found out either.”
Her producer guided her out the door and into the hall with a firm hand on Sammi Dan’s back. “How long’s it been since you were online?”
She thought a minute and couldn’t exactly remember. Between reading her new book—which she never wanted to put down—and Gij and the new clothes, the visit to Dimple. “I don’t know. My phone’s dead, I know that. But a day or three at least. Why?”
“So you’re telling me that you have no idea you and Johnson have pretty much gone viral. You can’t login to anywhere without seeing something about the two of you. Facebook, Twitter, Instagram—YouTube is even replaying your interviews, and their ratings are off the walls.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope.” She smiled. “Me, too. They’re even talking about me, except some of them are not being very nice.”
“That’s crazy.” Sammi Dan made an all-caps mental note to remember to ask Gij why in the world he included April into his contract. She just could not figure out a logical explanation. “So what’s everyone saying?”
“A lot of speculating mostly. People want to know what’s going on. I tell you, the numbers are off the wall. Joe’s wanting all our footage for a Sunday feature on the two of you. He’s even talking about preempting America’s Funniest Home Videos.”
“I don’t think G.H. knows either.”
Her friend glanced down. “Oh, my gracious! Where did you get those mega fabulous shoes, girlfriend?”
“He bought them for me.” She moved her left foot forward and pivoted on the toe of the flat. “They’re from Neiman’s. You wouldn’t believe how soft the leather is either. They’re better than house slippers.”
The mental picture of the new box sitting on her bed flashed across her inner eye and made her crazy to know what it held inside. More awesome shoes?
“Wow, how lucky are you?”
“G. H. says there’s no such thing. According to him, I’m blessed.” She rolled her eyes and shook her head. He sure took his religion to the edge. But as long as he blessed her with such wonderful gifts, who was she to insist that he believed in luck?
Good luck, bad luck, luck of the draw, or fresh out of luck. What did it matter? She could refrain to keep him happy. And she wanted to do that…not just because he bought her things, but because he deserved to be.
“Well, anyway, Joe wants me to tag along with you and Johnson tonight to get a little more footage. Just film for a voice-over, no interview or anything. I promise you’ll hardly even know I’m there. He’s only a few minutes short.”
“On our alone time?”
“It isn’t like you’re doing anything, right? Think it’ll be okay?”
“I don’t know, but I’ll ask Gij after the game.” Blue Cheese! That would mean she had to wait even longer to open her new box of goodies. And mess up all her plans for the private fashion show.
“What did you just call him?”
Sammi Dan gasped and covered her mouth.
“That’s the secret pet name, isn’t it? What was it again—Jig?”
“Pumpernickel! Play like you paused and skipped right over that. I’m not kidding, April, I mean it. You cannot repeat that.”
“I won’t. I promise, but you have to promise to get the okay for me to shadow you two after the game.”
French toast, how could she get out of it now? She’d have to let her come. “I’ll try, but it’s his house.”
“Don’t give me that. Surely you know you can get anything you want from that man. He’s in love with you.”
In love? With her? She’d thought so, or rather hoped so, but could it be true? If April saw it, maybe she wasn’t crazy or only wishing. But she certainly wished her camera gal could be right, even though it was doubtful.
So far, Sammi Dan definitely couldn’t get him to do anything, or she’d have already… She couldn’t think about that now. But if he really loved her, wouldn’t he.…
“I have faith in you, Sam. Now come on, we’ve got an interview with Martin, and if we don’t head his direction this minute, we’ll be late. You know how I hate being late.”
The game turned into a laugher, but the wrong direction. The Rangers lost eight to one. Those who could answer the bell looked like they were sleepwalking. Good thing, she guessed. Jeff never even w
armed up Gij.
Tomorrow he’d fly out. That would give him Sunday off, too, before he had to pitch Monday night. If he refused to worry about his arm, really, didn’t she have to?
Why did he have to be so hardheaded, anyway? Thinking he had a bionic limb or something. He could pitch another seven or eight or even ten years if he’d only take care of himself. She needed to convince him to think more long term.
It didn’t take any begging at all for him to agree to April’s company, but then the ingrate spied her unopened box on the bed while Sammi Dan changed. She picked it up. “What’s this?”
“A gift.” She took it from her and headed for her closet. She had no intention of opening it until she could try everything on, and she wasn’t about to let her producer in on Gij’s personal fashion show.
Something she had in mind for her grand finale absolutely did not include a third wheel. No matter how badly she wanted to tear into the box. “And I thought you said I’d hardly know you were here?”
Needed to tell him in the future to keep any surprises for her to his own self until she could open them right then. She hated waiting. Her daddy knew it and never made her wait once he had something for her.
Finally, April turned her camera off, and trying her best not to be blatantly rude, Sammi Dan herded her through the door and to her car. She waved goodbye. “See you in the morning at DFW.”
Before the taillights went out of view, she spun, rubbing her hands together. To her room, to her surprise, and to give Gij the surprise of his life.
On her way through the living room, she pranced like a parade pony. “Be right back!”
Tearing into the box, she stopped at the tissue paper. He made her crazy, but a good kind of insanity. She peeled back the crisp layers to find three more dresses. He had way outdone himself.
One, the most gorgeous beaded after-five cocktail dress she’d ever laid eyes on, literally made her drool. It was the deepest shade of emerald green.
