by Faith O'Shea
Will anyone take a risk on me? Or will I have wasted all that time and money, all those long hours in the lab, burning the midnight oil, writing my dissertation.
She looked deep into his eyes, saw pampered, privileged, spoiled. She tried to look past those traits to see the kindness that prompted him to befriend Mateo, the winces that told her he’d given it all he had today. It didn’t work.
“I don’t think you’d know anything about those kinds of thoughts.”
More quietly he said, “Walking dogs will not make you rich.”
Duh.
Problem was, the career she’d chosen wouldn’t, either, not until she was an established scientific celebrity, like her mother. Not that it mattered. She wasn’t in it for the glamor, success, or money.
She glared at him. “Some people don’t need to be rich to be happy.”
He shook his hair off his face, took the last gulp of his beer, and said, “It certainly doesn’t hurt.”
His grimace suggested it hurt to move in any way. It shouldn’t have made her feel this light and happy.
“Says someone who can’t walk right.”
“There’s a price you have to pay to get what you want.”
“I’m finding that out.”
She wanted things that seemed beyond her reach and, fuck her, he was becoming one of them.
After they’d finished cleaning up, packing away the leftovers, Rique said, “I think there’s a hockey game on. You want to watch or get back?”
“If you don’t mind, I will stay a bit longer. I should get familiar with the home team. But you? Do you need to soak?”
“I’m good. I can do that later. It might help me sleep.”
Hoover had behaved well while they ate, but now she was whining for some attention.
Fiona had gone to get her coat when Rique said, “You going out?”
“With my friend here.”
“Oh, okay. Your car is still outside so I thought—”
“Shit. Thanks for reminding me.”
As she shrugged into her coat, he said, “We’ll be in the family room.”
She freed her hair from beneath the collar, zipped up, and moved to slider. “Enjoy your game.”
“Aren’t you going to join us?”
She stopped short of her destination and looked back at him. “Nope. I don’t only have an aversion to baseball, I have one to all sports.”
She slipped outside after Hoover and watched her race around the fenced-in yard, seemingly happy to be free. The sky was clear, and the stars were out and visible. There had to be hundreds of them, all twinkling so very far away. She breathed in the clean air, thinking about Mateo and how far he’d come to do what he loved. Would she have to do the same? Leave home, move to an unfamiliar place where she didn’t know anyone? Assimilate into a different culture?
Her specialty was the next big thing in genetics. There had to be someplace on the East Coast where she could set up her lab, some university or hospital willing to fund that kind of research. With the advancement in mass spectrometry technology, the field had been expanding to the point where scientists could now fractionate the complex protein samples for analysis. Because proteins did the heavy lifting in the human body, carried out every command issued by the genes along the DNA spiral, any mutation that occurred, happened at the proteome level. She thought they could be decoded but categorizing them all wouldn’t be easy. That’s why the research lab was so important. It could take years to gain any ground, but if successful, it would not only enhance scientists’ understanding of the relationships between gene, cell, and protein, but it would enable doctors to prescribe the best medication and treatment for an individual system.
She closed her eyes, visualized what she wanted. A room that didn’t have to be big, that housed her and a couple of doctoral students, a refrigerator for storing solutions, chemicals, and kits, a deep freezer where she could store cells, tissues, and proteins, an auto-clave for sterilization, an electrophoresis system for profiling her DNA fragments, and a gel documentation system, which she’d use to display those fragments after the profiling run. Okay, maybe the room had to be bigger than small, but she’d be willing to work in a closet if it fit the necessary equipment.
She saw it as clearly as she saw the stars overhead. She just wondered if her dream was also a million miles away.
When she returned to the warmth of the house, she could hear muted voices coming from a room down the hall. It didn’t sound like the guys were watching hockey. The announcer was yelling something about the ball being out of there, and the talk in the family room was animated. The two things she knew about hockey: there were skates and pucks involved. Making as little noise as she could she walked to the edge of the room to listen in on the discussion and to take one more look at a bruised and battered athlete. Rique glanced back at the doorway as if he somehow knew she was there and his eyes all but lit up.
“Come here. You’ve got to see this.”
He picked up the remote and rewound the play, making room on the couch for her. Nestled between the two men, she paid close attention as Rique described what she was going to see. It was one of the Greenliner games at the end of last season, when some guy Ovitz, hit a ball four hundred and thirty feet to win the semi-finals game for the team. She watched the first baseman take a couple of swings, balls flying in every direction but forward, and several balls he let go by before slamming it out toward the harbor. Then there was a lot of running by the team in green, and a lot of standing and watching by the team in white.
Rique asserted, “That guy is clutch.”
“I thought you were going to watch hockey?”
“We found this when we were surfing and decided to dissect the second Greenie game of the World Series, instead.”
“You do realize I have no idea what you just showed me or why it was important.”
He met here eyes. He looked disappointed by her lack of enthusiasm.
“It’s important because Ovitz is one of the best in the game. He always gets a hit in clutch situations and almost single-handedly got the Greenies to the Series last year. He’s learned how to take advantage of the wind coming off the water.”
“I thought it was a team sport.”
“It is. That’s why Mattie and I are watching this. We’re part of the team now and intend to make a contribution. Mattie will probably bat third, with Ovitz as clean-up. That one-two punch should be enough to take us all the way.”
Her eyes grew wide. Clean-up? One-two punch?
Not knowing what to say, not wanting to further prove her ignorance, she asked, “Where will you bat?”
“Mattie’s going to work with me. He made a couple of good suggestions during batting practice today that helped. I’ve got speed but have lost my eye for the ball, so I’m not sure.”
“What does speed have to do with it?”
“If I can get on base, and if the men who come after me get a hit, I can round the bases quickly and hopefully score. If I can’t get my batting average up, though, I’ll be at the bottom.
That makes sense.
Mattie said, “He’ll probably lead off. It’s the smartest place to put him.”
“Because of his speed.”
“Yeah.”
She suddenly had a burning desire to see him play. Wanted to see him running, pivoting, doing the things Terry had talked about. Sitting next to him wasn’t helping, the heat emanating from his body inching hers to boil.
“I’ll let you two keep dissecting. I’ve got to get my car in the garage and then I’ll take Hoover with me, but if you get back late, she’ll probably nag you to go out one last time.”
“No problem but I won’t be late. We’ll just watch the rest of the game and then I’ll take Mattie back. I’m beginning to see the benefits of a good night’s sleep and I’ll have to soak first.”
His eyes met hers, and for a second, she got lost in them.
She doubted she’d get to enjoy those be
nefits, because her body was coiled and ready to spring.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Rique watched her go, feeling her absence as soon as she was out of sight.
What was it that made him feel different when he was with her? He’d have to put her on the list of women he liked, even though she knew next to nothing about baseball. There’d been a lot of women on the list who didn’t like the sport, they just tried to hide the fact because of who he was. Fifi was honest and direct. He always knew where he stood with her and it meant he could trust her. He liked that and was beginning to suspect that it was important in a relationship.
His mind wandered as the game continued, paying only the briefest attention to Mattie’s attempt at conversation. When he said, “It’s time for me to get back,” Rique looked up to find the game over.
Mattie leaned back, his arm resting on the back of the couch, as if he’d changed his mind and decided to stay a while.
“You like her.”
Had he been so transparent that Mattie had picked up on his thoughts? After hesitating for a moment, he admitted the truth.
“I do.”
“Are you going to do anything about it?”
He chewed on his bottom lip and then shook his head.
“I can’t. Wouldn’t be fair. I’m heading to Rio to find a wife, so it would be only a temporary diversion.” Although he was beginning to feel that diversion would be a road well taken.
Mattie asked, “You want a hometown girl?”
“Yeah.”
The why was starting to wriggle itself into consciousness. Why did he think the highest standard for beauty lived there? He’d met many gorgeous women in the States, had bedded his fair share, so what was it that was pulling him back for the most important date of his life? The one at the altar. He had to consider that it was something other than beauty. The women there were more direct, less coy. If they wanted to talk, they would make eye contact. The people were more affectionate, kissed for the fun of it, and touched more. The women there also expected compliments, to be coddled, they handed out endearments like candy, and sarcasm was lost on them, an art the Americans excelled in. Was he merely seeking the familiar?
After finding his way back from his thoughts, he came right out and asked, “Did you leave someone behind?”
Mattie dipped his head, then looked around, making sure not to make eye contact when he said,
“No. I don’t date seriously. I put too much energy into baseball to have anything left over for someone else.”
He got the impression Mattie was not telling him everything, but he figured he had the right to do so. They still didn’t know each other well enough yet to be confidants. His curiosity prompted him to ask, “Do you think you’ll marry someone from Cuba when you’re ready to settle down?”
Again, he avoided eye contact.
“That would be impossible because I can’t go back.”
Rique felt mildly curious. He threw his leg over his knee and asked, “What are the women like there?”
Mateo looked over and met his eyes, a downward turn on his lips. “Proud and temperamental. And some a bit free-spirited for my taste.”
He joked, “That could be a good thing.”
“If that’s what you want. I would prefer a woman I could trust.”
Rique felt his mouth dip into a frown. He’d prefer that as well. If he was to marry a stranger, would he find out too late that he couldn’t? Shaking the doubt off, he asked, “What’s it like there?”
“I’ll tell you all about it while we drive. I’ve got to get some sleep if the coaches have another day like today planned.”
Rique managed to maneuver himself back into the car, his body finally understanding what he’d done to it. It was in major revolt.
Mattie filled him in on some of the finer points on what life was like in Cuba that he’d skipped while in Brazil. He told him about his mother and the sacrifices she’d made for him, the house he’d lived in that had been passed down through the generations, real estate up until just recently unable to be bought and sold. It was certainly a different way to live, a culture that put the state before the individual.
When Rique pulled into the circular drop-off in front of the hotel, Mattie looked up at it, his hand on the door latch.
“It gets lonely here sometimes. I’m anxious to get to Florida.”
“You’re welcome to come back to Izabella’s with me anytime. I’ll be looking for a place as soon as my sister gets back, and then I can invite you to stay until you find a place of your own.”
“I’m hoping Alicia finds me something soon. This weekend would be good.”
“If you want company, I’m available.”
“That is good to know. At least I’ll be busy over the next few days. I like that I’m working out again.”
“Do you want me to pick you up tomorrow?”
Rique knew he’d taken a cab to the field this morning.
“I would. Thank you. See you then.”
As he drove away, Rique believed he had his first real friend on the team. They were men from different countries, who spoke a different language, but who were looking for the same thing. A World Series ring. He should have spent more time getting to know him while he was staying with his parents. He was a good guy and if today was any indication, they were going to work well together.
The highway was empty, the darkness encompassing, but it lent itself to meditation. He thought about all Mattie had told him. Would the Cuban come to like life here? He had. For as much as he loved his homeland, he didn’t want to live there anymore. His family was moving to America, one member at a time. First it was Jaco and Izabella, through no intention of their own, but they had become completely Americanized. He was next, with his move to Trenton. His sister Leia had met her fiancé in New York and was planning on moving there when they married. His parents had bought the house in the Hamptons to be close by. He wouldn’t be surprised if they moved there permanently. His father was at retirement age and had done quite well for himself, although he couldn’t see his father doing nothing. He could fly back and forth, consult, or get a green card and work here. Izabella and Jaco could bring them all here, being citizens. He was going to look into what it took to become one.
So why are you going to Brazil to look for a wife?
He knew the answer. He knew what he needed in a mate and he wasn’t sure he could find her here.
When the image of a woman with dove-gray eyes and springy curls came into focus, he pushed her out. He was glad she was no where to be found when he got back to the house.
Finally alone, the house quiet around him, Rique stood in front of the bathroom mirror. Having discarded his shirt, he touched the bruised and tender skin around his rib cage. He had forgotten how much he hated that flat paddle. How many balls had bounced away from him until he got his rhythm back? And every one of them had bounced off his body as he tried to keep it close.
When he heard the gasp just outside the door, he knew it looked as bad as it felt.
“What the hell happened to you? Did they use you for target practice?”
He made the mistake of glancing over at her. She was dressed in flannel night pants and a tee, a robe thrown carelessly over it. He could see her nipples poking the material, and the tenderness in his muscles got commandeered by the look of her.
He sighed, not only at her concern but at his inability to reach out.
“This is what happens when you have let yourself become lax.”
She made a move to step inside, her arm extended as if to touch one of the imprints, then stopped.
“Do you want me to rub ointment on you or something?”
He felt a prickling sensation at the thought of her hands on his chest. Her fingers weren’t long, but they were feminine. She wouldn’t be able to scrape long nails down his back, because they were short, but they were manicured. His pulse had quickened, and need was beginning to throb.
He shook his head,
knowing danger when he saw it.
“I will be fine. These are signs that I am working hard again.”
“War wounds?”
He nodded and asked, “What are you doing up?”
He wouldn’t have disrobed if he’d known she was prowling around.
“I was hungry, thought I’d grab something to eat. What are you doing in this bathroom? You have an en suite, don’t you?”
“I didn’t want to climb the stairs just yet.”
A smile slipped over her face, but she quickly apologized.
“Sorry. I shouldn’t find humor in your suffering.”
“After my telling you that I’m the best, and seeing evidence that suggests otherwise, I don’t blame you for mocking me.”
“I’m not mocking, honest. It looks like you’ve done what you promised. Although I didn’t realize that new leaf you were turning over came in blue and purple.”
He could do nothing but chuckle. “Mind if I join your raid? I’m kind of hungry myself.”
Not only for food.
“Don’t mind at all. I’m hankering for some of that chicken. I didn’t eat much of the meat for fear the carnivores around me would cast their sights in my direction if there wasn’t enough to satisfy them.”
She was right to worry. Appeasing his physical hunger would be easy. It was the sexual craving that was becoming a problem.
When she met his eyes, she skittered away as if she read what was in them. It was desire, pure and simple.
“I’m sure Reid has a balm for bruises. Look in the cabinet, see if you can find something. I’ll make our assault on the refrigerator.”
She’d already made an assault on his senses, and it took him more than a moment to modify his penile discomfort before he could begin the search. He found a jar and was ready to bypass it thinking it was one of Izabella’s moisturizers, but noticed the words muscle pain relief written in scroll across the front. He unscrewed the top and inhaled, then read the ingredients. He’d planned on soaking in the tub to loosen the knots that seemed to have taken refuge in every muscle in his body, but he couldn’t pass up the other option of sitting and eating with Fifi, so he’d changed his mind. He slathered the balm all over his arms, chest, and thighs with deep tissue massage. He groaned as he did, believing he could have orgasmed, he was so tightly wound. He stopped just short of that goal and put his shirt back on. He left the jar on the counter, knowing he’d need it again before practice tomorrow.
