by Joanne Rock
Now, it seemed as if he was facing defeat on every front, including his relationship with Amber.
What if today was the end of everything for him? Would she really fly back to Boston alone?
Around them, a few early-morning risers were whispering and pointing at the father-son baseball pair and while he didn’t ever mind meeting with fans, it might have been nice if his dad had skipped the team jersey for their impromptu family breakfast.
“Any manager needs more time than that.” Heath’s father sipped his latte thoughtfully.
“It’s not a one-man show in the owner’s office anymore. Bob has to answer to a board.” There didn’t seem to be any way around that.
Mark nodded, his face a fast-forwarded version of what Heath would see in the mirror in twenty more years.
“How are you going into the game?” he asked, rubbing his hands together as if he were getting down to work. “What’s your plan?”
Heath cleaned off the rest of the espresso and wondered if there was any statute of limitations on how long you had to explain yourself to a parent.
Although to be fair, the question might not bug him so much if Heath had a better strategy.
“I’ve gone into every game like it’s just a game and it’s served me well so far. I played the World Series the same way I played rec ball or a Triple A matchup during spring training.” He’d been quoted on it before because his perspective was unique, but it had worked for him. “It keeps the nerves down, and it helps me focus on fundamentals.”
Because at the end of the day, that was what baseball was about. Bat on the ball for offense. Glove on the ball for defense.
“Son.” His father hunkered down in his chair and leaned closer. “You can’t coach like you played. That mentality worked for you personally on the field as a player. That doesn’t mean it’s going to work for all your guys. See the big picture and think about what they need to hear. Think about each and every one of those guys in the locker room and ask yourself, what does this kid need to know before he goes out there?”
For a second, the message buzzed around Heath’s head as if it might make some sense.
“You never coached.” He didn’t mean it as a slam. But it made him curious why his father would offer the advice. “How do you know what I should be doing?”
His father leaned back from the table.
“I don’t.” Picking up his Stars’ cap, he put it back on his head. “In fact, I think coaching isn’t all that different from raising kids, and I effed that up, too. But there are lessons to be learned from mistakes, Heath. And I can tell you right now that sometimes you need to open your damn eyes and see what’s in front of you. Before you lose it, you ought to ask yourself, what does that person need? Or, in your case, what does each member of the team need?”
Standing, Mark took his latte and slapped Heath on the back before Heath could begin to untangle what his father had just said.
“You’re leaving?” Obviously he’d ticked off his dad, but he had too much on his mind today to figure out what he’d done wrong now.
“I’ll let you get back to what you were doing.” His cagey look said he knew that had been exactly nothing. “I’ll see you at the game, son. Good luck out there.”
Shit.
Another strikeout with the people around him. And Heath wasn’t any closer to answers now than he had been before. He still felt edgy and uneasy. Off.
He could go back up to the hotel room and look through Amber’s notes to get some ideas for what he’d say to the guys before what could easily be the last game of his life. But something told Heath the discontent brewing inside him didn’t have jack to do with his plans for the team or lack thereof, no matter what his father said.
He had his head on sideways today, and the reason had to do with the woman lying in his bed. A woman he wanted, even though he’d told himself she would be better off without the upheaval, the travel and the scrutiny that came with his life. He had good reasons for sending her safely back to Boston. For once, he wasn’t being selfish and was thinking about what was best for someone else.
He just hadn’t gotten used to how it felt to make the altruistic decision. Judging by the ache in his chest and the cluttered thoughts in his brain, he damn well didn’t like it.
It was a hell of a way to go into the most important game of his career, and he couldn’t help feeling a little superstitious, as if he’d somehow jinxed the outcome already.
“SO YOU’RE DATING the manager.”
The catcher’s wife, Naomi Benoit Davis, asked a simple enough question as she helped herself to the continental breakfast in a private room reserved for the Aces and their families.
Amber followed along behind the petite redhead, filling a plate with fresh fruit and carbs. The private suite was large, so even though there were ten other people having breakfast—coaches and travel staff, mostly—they weren’t close enough to anyone else to be overheard.
Naomi had approached her in the hall outside the breakfast room, having apparently been briefed by her husband about Amber’s relationship with Heath. Amber remembered they’d ridden up in the elevator with Brody Davis when they first arrived at the hotel. He’d been the one who joked about usually having his wife glued to his side when they traveled.
“It’s complicated,” Amber answered finally, unwilling to compromise Heath’s privacy by kissing and telling.
The redhead stopped in the middle of slathering jelly on her toast. A heart-shaped amethyst barrette winked in the overhead lights as she turned.
“Isn’t it always?” Naomi nodded toward a vacant table near a window overlooking the shopping district nearby. “Want to have a seat?”
For a moment, Amber considered making excuses. She wanted to e-mail Rochelle, and she was curious if her editor had sent her any news about her department even though she was on vacation. But hadn’t she committed to not overthinking? That ought to apply to hanging out with a potential new friend and not just her relationships with men. This week, she’d proven she could take risks.
Besides, she wasn’t so sure she’d be returning to the book reviewing job when this vacation was over. Watching Heath’s frustrations with his career made her think about her own. Was it worth sacrificing all her free time for the sake of job security? Maybe she could find another productive outlet for her skills that wouldn’t make her feel so anxious all the time and rob her of a social life.
“That would be nice.” Amber followed the other woman to the table and set down her dish and a cup of tea. “I’m keeping an eye out for Diego Estes’s girlfriend, though. She should be easy to spot since she’ll be with a baby.”
Diego had called the hotel room this morning after Heath had left her to wake up alone. While she’d had half a mind to hop a plane back home since he had already checked out on her emotionally, Amber hadn’t wanted to abandon the team, crazy as that sounded.
She wanted to see Diego hit one out of the park for his son. And she had to admit she was a little curious how Heath would handle the team today. Would he think about any of the research she’d done?
When the young third baseman had asked her to help his girlfriend, Jasmine, find her way to the ballpark, of course she’d said yes. As it turned out, she’d been more invested in Heath’s player than Heath had been in her. And that hurt.
“I’m so glad you’re doing this.” Naomi reached across the table and squeezed Amber’s wrist. “I’ve been telling Brody all season that the team would be a happier place for the guys if there was some more feminine influence. A manager’s wife to coordinate some events for the players’ wives every now and then.”
Amber’s spoon clattered into her dish, the word wife catching her off guard.
“We’re not—that is, Heath and I just barely started dating.” And from what she could tell, they were also just barely broken up.
The ache in her chest returned with a vengeance.
“Of course! Sorry to stick my foot in it so
fast,” Naomi hurried to reassure her. “Don’t mind me. I don’t mean to have you married already. I just think it’s great that you’re looking after Diego’s girlfriend.”
Naomi broke off in the middle of her sentence; her silver Celtic bracelets jingling as she suddenly lifted her hand to point. “This must be her.”
Amber turned to see a young, dark-haired woman enter the room, cradling a sleeping infant in one arm. The woman wore jeans and a black blazer with a series of skinny gold chains to fill in the neckline. The baby’s blanket was blue and gray, covered with the Aces’ logo.
“Jasmine?” Amber rose at the same time as Naomi, the two of them descending on Diego’s girlfriend to ooh and ahh over the tiny baby born just six weeks earlier.
Introductions were made over the child’s sleeping head as Amber quizzed her about her flight and whether she’d had any rest.
“Come and sit with us,” she urged, pointing out their table. “I can hold Alex if you’d like to grab a plate.”
In no time, the infant was handed off to her and the new mom went with Naomi to secure some breakfast. As Amber stood there, holding the smallest baby anyone had ever entrusted her with, she felt her heart knot up in her chest. What would it be like to be part of a family like this, where women handed you their babies and trusted you to care for them? Where players looked to her for help with their personal lives so they could do what they did best out on the field?
Her book knowledge had served a bunch of strange purposes this week. Right now, she had the oddest sensation that she’d been studying up for a position she could have been perfect for if only things had been different between her and Heath. “Amber?”
Behind her, a few more players had entered the breakfast room with Heath among them. He paused near the entrance, his eyes inscrutable as he studied her.
“Is that Diego’s kid?” He peered down into the blanket at Alex’s tawny skin and dark hair that formed a V in the middle of his forehead, a handsome carbon copy of his father.
“Yes. Diego talked Jasmine into flying up last night and I told him I’d help look after her today until she gets settled with the other players’ wives and girlfriends.” She gestured toward Brody’s wife as she steered Jasmine to the coffee bar. “I considered leaving this morning after what you said about going our separate ways once the team lost. But I realized I really wanted to be here to cheer on the team.”
Frowning, Heath tugged on her sleeve, urging her deeper into the recesses of the room.
“You thought about taking off today? Before the game?” His brows knitted together, his forehead wrinkling in concern. “I told you I’d take care of everything. For that matter, if we win tonight, we can go out and celebrate anywhere you choose.”
“No.” She put her answer out there before she let herself think about how nice it would be to languish in Heath’s arms, savoring all the feelings he inspired inside her. Logic told her that the longer she spent with him, the more painful it would be to walk away.
That wasn’t overthinking. That was a truth it had come time to face.
“Why not?” At least he sounded as frustrated as she felt.
“Because relationships aren’t just about being together when things are good—only if you win. That’s not how it works.”
Behind her, a few more players who called greetings to Heath as they entered and he nodded at them in return. Then, lowering his voice, he focused on her again.
“You promised me three days. Maybe it’s a mistake to quit this—” he struggled for the right words “—relationship until we at least give it that much time.”
Alex made a sleepy sigh and flexed a tiny fist, his warm body snuggled against her giving her courage to fight for the kind of happiness she deserved. Hadn’t she entreated Diego to fight for Jasmine? She’d read enough of The Mating Season to know when a relationship was real and worth the effort.
“My feelings for you have changed.” She found it difficult to admit, knowing her emotions were not returned. “I got into this thinking I could gain back some self-confidence and start taking a few chances in life. And I’ve had so much fun—”
“So have I.” He reached for her, taking his shoulders in his hands and pouring all of that Heath-intensity into her as he met her gaze. “This week should have sucked, given the way my career is falling apart, but our time together in Nantucket and even here has been…incredible.”
Her heart melted and she felt herself swaying. Thankfully, Naomi was marching into her range of vision, waving a cell phone to snag her attention.
“Excuse me.” Brody’s wife grinned at Heath and then turned to Amber. “I just wanted to see if you’d like to ride over to the game with all the players’ wives?”
Another reminder of what she would have to leave behind tonight.
“That would be great. Thank you.”
“And you’re okay with the baby?” Naomi peeked into the blanket once more, an expression of maternal longing evident.
“I’m fine, unless you want to take him—”
Naomi had him scooped up and nestled under one arm before she finished the sentence.
“I’ll take good care of the little guy,” she assured Amber before she backed up a step. “Sorry to interrupt!”
Amber waited until she was certain they wouldn’t be overheard.
“I know you’re already making plans for what happens when you leave the team. But they need you right now and you’re still in charge.” She knew it wasn’t her business, but damn it, she was making it her business. “And when I said that these past few days have been fun, I was only just beginning. It’s been more than fun for me.”
Her voice cracked and she knew that any attempt at maintaining her aloof and studious bookworm facade was long gone. The sensitive soul inside had broken through.
She had no idea if Heath could see that, however. He’d admired her for being forthright with him in the past, but maybe he only liked the side of her that could give as good as she got—a side that was more of a protective coating over the tenderhearted romantic she hid inside.
“I don’t understand.” Heath shook his head. “Isn’t that a good thing? Doesn’t that prove my point that we should spend more time together?”
“I don’t want to spend more time running away from the team or the past or real life.” What had started out as a way to thumb her nose at Brent had snowballed into something so much more profound. “I’m falling for you, Heath. And I can’t pretend that it’s just been a few days of fun.”
He rocked back on his heels, so visibly surprised she would have had to laugh if she hadn’t been utterly mortified.
“Yo, Skip!” One of Heath’s players jogged over to them, his heavy necklace swinging around his neck. “The bench coach is looking for you, and one of the trainers said to let you know we can take some swings before the home team starts batting practice if we get to the field early enough.”
“I’ll be right there,” Heath said without even looking up.
The player rubbed tired eyes. “Sure thing, Skip.”
“I know you have to get ready.” Amber was glad for the interruption, not sure she could have handled Heath’s stunned silence any longer. “I just wanted you to know why it’s best for me to make my own way home after the game.”
“Amber, wait.” He gripped her wrist to hold her in place.
“I’m sorry.” She cut him off, knowing she’d put him in an awkward position. “You’ve got too much on your mind to deal with this now. Good luck today.”
She flexed up on her toes to kiss him on the cheek, an awkward goodbye that wasn’t helped by the many pairs of eyes studiously not looking their way.
It was the presence of all those eyes that saved her before she could cave to some compromise of a relationship that would leave her lonely and heartbroken in the end.
Determined to salvage what she could of this day, she hurried toward the gathering throng of players’ wives and girlfriends and prepared to ch
eer on the team for the last time.
15
I’M FALLING FOR YOU.
Amber’s words were all Heath could think about as game time neared. He’d had ten guys in his face after the end of his conversation with her at the team breakfast, all wanting a piece of him. Refusing to shove his foot any further in his mouth than he had after revealing his plan to cut and run if he got axed, Heath had let Amber go.
Now, sitting in a courtesy office outside the visiting team locker room an hour before the first pitch, he tried to figure out how to get through this game. His third baseman hadn’t slept all night, his twelve-million-dollar-a-year reliever had been in the strip clubs until dawn, and the team as a whole was wired from tension Heath himself had undoubtedly passed along to them.
It wouldn’t be news to anyone on the team that they were all underperforming—Heath included. But he didn’t have a clue what to say to fire them up.
I’m falling for you.
Heath pounded the empty desk with his fist, knowing he was missing something here, but damned if he could figure out what. Amber told him she was falling for him and in the same breath she’d accused him of running out on the team. If that was the case, how could she fall for someone like that?
Out in the locker room, he could hear the guys talking and laughing. He had no doubt Chase Montoya was holding court in one corner, telling the rookies how many bottles of Veuve Clicquot and Cristal he’d wasted on exotic dancers who would have no doubt appreciated cash more than the alcohol.
Other than that predictable patter, the locker room was actually kind of quiet. Heath knew he’d been tagged as more of a “players’ coach” since coming on board in Boston, letting the veteran guys take a leading role to help shape the team. Once a veteran himself, Heath had appreciated managers who weren’t hard-asses about mindless hours of infield practice or forcing big hitters to bunt around a run in some pea-brained excuse for strategy.
But hearing Montoya’s guffaws in the other room made him wonder if he’d been too lenient. Too much of a player when he should have been more of a leader.
