CHAPTER FOURTEEN
A TEAM CAN'T win a championship in April. But they can lose one.
Spencer knew the truth of these words. As did his teammates. A great record to begin a baseball season was no guarantee of a great ending.
One month down. Five to go. Nobody except their fans was handing the Cyclones the World Series trophy just yet.
However, a fast start felt a hell of a lot better than a slow one. The vibe in the locker room of a winning team was so much better than in a losing one.
The success of April carried over into May. And June. By July, Seattle was in first place sporting the best record in baseball. As a team, they were running on all cylinders. Hitting. Fielding. The atmosphere in the dugout was loose and easy.
On the field and off, the chemistry was the best Spencer could remember.
Ten Cyclones were voted onto the annual All-Star Game roster. Spencer led in the voting with their rookie phenom, Drake Langston, right behind.
"I wish I was going with you guys."
Spencer slapped Travis on the back. The fans had punched his friend's ticket to the game, but a nagging injury would keep him in Seattle.
The three men were enjoying an after-game drink at their favorite out-of-the-way watering hole. The bar was dark. The beer cold. And most of the time, their fellow patrons left them in peace.
"No point in aggravating that sore elbow. We need you in August and September. I kind of wish I could stay here with you. A few days off would be nice."
Though he'd never missed a game, getting voted onto the all-star team still meant a lot to Spencer. Some called the mid-summer classic obsolete. A popularity contest whose time had passed.
At one time, fans enjoyed watching the American League face off against their National League counterparts. Other than the World Series, the two leagues never mingled. That changed with the advent of interleague play. A whole generation couldn't remember the game any other way.
Sorry haters. They could grouse all they wanted. Like night games. Or the designated hitter. The All-Star Game wasn't going anywhere.
"Of course, you want a few days off," Nick said. "If I had a woman like yours to keep me company, I'd blow off this game in a heartbeat. Nobody is making you go."
"I owe the fans."
"Bullshit." Nick wasn't as sentimental about baseball as Spencer. He was grateful to everything the game had given him. And he loved playing. But he didn't hold the history in awe. "The fans want us to win. What do they care if you blow off a trip to Tampa Bay?"
"You're going," Spencer pointed out.
"What else am I going to do? I'm a sad son of a bitch who has no reason to go home at night."
"Boo hoo." Travis made an exaggerated pouty face. "Your stable of women is bigger than any I know."
"True." Nick looked pleased with the thought. "But none of them has anything on Blue."
"Too right," Travis nodded. "She's a keeper."
"Can't argue."
"I knew something wrong." Letting out a sigh, Nick turned to Travis. "Have you ever seen such a hang-dog expression? Our man is on the top of the world. He's in the middle of another MVP-caliber season. That pretty face of his is plastered on every other bus and billboard in the city."
"And," Travis jumped in. "A gorgeous, funny, smart, sexy woman has welcomed him back into her life. When, let's face it, she had every reason to kick his sorry ass to the curb."
"I get the point, assholes," Spencer muttered into his beer.
"Does he?" Nick asked Travis, ignoring Spencer. "A month ago, our friend was happy as a clam. Grinning like a fool for no apparent reason."
"Except we knew the reason," Travis interjected.
"We did. But now? Why has the finish dulled on our good buddy's shiny new penny? Why—"
"For Christ's sake," Spencer slapped his hand onto the table. "Give it a rest, Oprah."
"I think he meant to insult me. But I like Oprah."
"Me, too." Travis clinked his bottle against Nick's. "Smart women with their own money make me hot."
Rubbing his face, Spencer's head fell back, his eyes closed in exasperation.
"Did you practice this routine? Because it could use some work."
"Pure improv." Nick signaled the barmaid to bring another round.
"Well, you suck."
"Just Nick? I thought I delivered my part with a certain finesse."
"Hey. I resent the implication."
Tuning out Travis and Nick's easy banter, Spencer paid for the drinks. He ignored the barmaid and her bright, encouraging smile. A pretty blonde with nice curves and an impressive cleavage, six months ago, she might have gained the attention she sought.
B.B. Before Blue.
Spencer didn't notice when the invitation on their server's face slipped. Or morphed into a disappointed frown. He wasn't immune. Simply not interested.
Blue had all his attention. Outside of baseball, she was the center of his universe.
When the Cyclones were at home, Spencer and Blue spent every night together. She had her job. He had his. But the only thing he wanted to do during his down time, was have Blue as near as possible.
Without a doubt, Spencer knew Blue felt the same. Her smile. The way she walked into his arms without hesitation. Snuggling close.
And the sex. Spencer felt himself harden just at the thought. They couldn't keep their hands off each other. If they weren't touching, the look in Blue's eyes felt like a caress. A promise of things to come.
Everything was perfect. Except…
One thing. Minor. Yet, like a tiny sliver left unattended, the problem had worked under Spencer's skin. An annoyance to start. Slowly, it was growing into something he couldn't ignore.
Spencer wouldn't verbally acknowledge Travis and Nick's jabs. But they were right. He wasn't as happy as he should've been and the reason was simple. He wanted to go public with their relationship, Blue wasn't ready.
Was Spencer's request so unreasonable? He didn't want to take out an ad. Or write the announcement in the sky. No fanfare. Just a dinner. In a restaurant. Or coffee at their favorite café.
Hell, at this point, Spencer would settle for a walk in the park. Something—anything—that took them into the light.
Sue him. Spencer was sick and tired of the shadows.
Unfortunately, Blue wasn't.
The dilemma had Spencer stymied. More and more, he felt Blue's reluctance stemmed from the fact that she still didn't trust him. Not completely. He wondered if she ever would. Though she said she was all in, he couldn't be certain.
Reasonable or not, telling the world that they were together would symbolize that Blue believed in him. In them.
Spencer pushed. Blue resisted. He was scared as hell of issuing an ultimatum. What if she gave a flat-out no? He couldn't lose Blue. Not again.
"Whatever is eating at you, Yoda? Fix it. Soon. Before the problem spills over onto the field."
"That will never happen," Spencer assured Nick.
Unbreakable, irrefutable rule number one. Personal issues stayed at home. Or—in an emergency—in the locker room. Once between the chalk, nothing messed with Spencer Kraig's head.
Not even a certain beautiful, stubborn, redhead.
"You better be right."
Spencer met Travis' gaze. His friend seemed easy going. The laconic way he draped his long body in a chair. The slight Southern drawl. The way his lids hooded his dark blue eyes. But when something mattered, Travis could be the hardest of hardasses.
Baseball? Winning? They mattered.
A sliver of doubt crept into Spencer's mind. And he didn't like the feeling. Damn Blue. Life was so much easier when he didn't care about anything more than baseball. Easier. And, though he hadn't realized until recently, a lot lonelier.
There had to be a solution. Baseball wasn't going anywhere. Neither was Blue. He had to find a way to blend the two.
Holding up his drink,
Spencer looked at his friends. His teammates. His brothers.
"When have I ever let you down?"
"Never," Nick said without hesitation.
"Not once," Travis echoed the sentiment.
Damn straight, Spencer thought, the sliver of doubt dissolving as quickly as it appeared. He had their backs. And he had Blue.
Now. Always. And come hell or high water. Forever.
"TAKE LAST MONTH'S figures and compare them to the last few years at this time. I want a broader outlook before I present the findings at tomorrow's meeting."
"Will do." Blue's new assistant nodded, jotting down notes.
Peri Winslow guarded Blue's office like a well-coiffed guard dog. Unlike Ernie—the young man who occupied the desk when she first arrived—Peri was neither sweet nor befuddled. She was efficient, bordering on obsessive.
In other words, exactly what Blue needed.
Without needing extensive details, Peri only had to observe the lay of the land for a few days to understand Blue's situation. And dealt with Vance Sutter accordingly.
Always respectful, Peri's arrival had changed the office dynamic. She didn't allow Vance's assistant to bulldoze past without an appointment. Phone calls were carefully screened. Nothing business related reached Blue unless Peri vetted it first.
Since the arrival of Peri—at Riley Preston's recommendation—Blue could finally breathe freely during work hours. Not that things were perfect. As long as Vance Sutter was in charge, perfections weren't possible. There were still the daily meetings that fluctuated between passive/aggressive bullshit and mumbled hostility.
Blue had come to terms with the fact that Vance pretty much hated everything about her. Even her red hair seemed to piss him. Now and then, he'd stare at the top of her head for several seconds before letting out a sigh, his lip curling into a sneer.
Whatever his problem—and there were many of them—Blue never reacted. Or commented. The meeting would continue. And if she were lucky, she wouldn't have to deal with him for the rest of the day.
"Your schedule is pretty light this afternoon. If you want to take an extra-long lunch, that shouldn't be a problem."
Blue smiled at the older woman. Except for the steely set of her eyes, Peri looked like the stereotypical grandmother. If grandma dressed in designer suits and wore heels that were the envy of every woman in the building.
Nearing sixty, Peri wasn't energetic as much as steady. As she put it, she was in for the long haul. Unflagging stamina and a sharp, nimble mind. Blue didn't know how she'd ever survived without her.
"A few glasses of wine wouldn't hurt," Peri added.
"Am I that obvious?"
"I know man trouble when I see it."
Blue frowned. "I thought you were happily married."
"Almost forty years." Smiling, Peri automatically straightened Blue's desk. "Which makes me an expert at dealing with a man and the trouble he can't help bringing with him."
Peri didn't strike Blue as a woman who would put up with a lot of nonsense. Not unless the man was worth it.
"Bart must be a good man."
"He is." The light in Peri's eyes was unmistakable. "He's the love of my life. And a pain in my backside. The little dear."
Peri's closed the door behind her. The woman was observant. Blue had trouble, the man variety. For weeks, she tried to figure out what to do before Spencer lost what little patience he had left.
The last thing Blue wanted was a blow-up. How was she supposed to avoid the unavoidable?
Grabbing her purse, Blue took out her phone. Sitting in her office wasn't getting her anywhere. As usual, Peri was right. Time for lunch. Extra-long sounded good. A glass or two of wine. But most of all, she needed advice.
Luckily, Blue knew just the person for the job.
"I'M GLAD YOU called."
"I'm glad you could get away at such short notice."
Riley Preston handed her menu to the waiter, having placed her order. A steak sandwich—medium rare. French fries—extra crispy. And a glass of wine—red.
Blue admired a woman who knew what she wanted. And since every bit sounded good, she ordered the same.
"Thank God you aren't one of those, I only want a salad, women."
Blue shrugged. "I like a salad. With bacon and hardboiled eggs. And croutons. And black olives."
"In other words, a little lettuce and a lot everything else," Riley laughed. "Amen and pass the dressing."
Riley's laughter drew attention from a nearby table of men out for a business lunch. Whether they recognized her or not, they certainly liked what they saw. Not that Blue blamed them.
Dressed in light blue, Riley's belted silk dress showed off her slender figure. Emphasizing her curves. Her skin glowed with health and happiness. A woman who was comfortable in her own skin.
"Is there a secret to oozing confidence?" Blue was ready to take notes.
"A good question. Not so long ago, I wanted the answer."
Blue couldn't imagine Riley as anything but the most together person she'd ever met.
"Really?"
Hearing the skeptical tone in Blue's voice, Riley nodded.
"I grew up here never thinking I'd ever leave. But something happened. A broken heart, to be exact." Riley said it casually as if broken hearts happened every day. Which, of course, they did. "After that, I didn't want to stay."
"But you came back."
"I grew up. And, I had the Knights. A football team is a pretty big incentive."
"May I ask who broke your heart?" When Riley didn't answer, Blue wanted to give herself a swift kick. They were easing into friendship. Some text. A few e-mails. A couple of phone calls. They weren't at the point where unsolicited personal questions were welcome. "Tell me to go to hell. I won't mind."
"Believe me, if your question bothered me I would. Without hesitation. I paused because it's been awhile since I've thought about that part of my past."
"You're smiling? About a broken heart?"
"Am I smiling?" Riley raised a hand to her mouth. "Well, what do you know? I suppose a happy ending has a way of smoothing away the bad memories."
"Happy?" Blue frowned. Then the light dawned. "You mean Sean?"
Nodding, Riley sighed. "Sean was clueless. When he stomped on my heart—and make no mistake, that is what he did—he had no idea how I felt."
"Now he's your husband."
"True. We found our way. But there were a lot of highs and lows in between." Riley gave Blue a long, thoughtful look. "Do you want to tell me about yours?"
"My?"
"Broken heart."
"No longer broken," Blue said.
"That's good. But something is bothering you. Same man?"
Leaning closer, Blue lowered her voice. "Spencer Kraig."
"There's something about a man in uniform." Riley picked up her glass, taking an appreciative sip.
"Spencer didn't set out to break my heart."
"But…?"
"It's a long story."
Eyes sparkling with interest, Riley relaxed in her chair.
"I have all afternoon."
Blue began slowly. But once she found her rhythm—and Riley showed herself to be an interested, compassionate audience—her story poured out.
"I like Spencer. But he was an ass."
Blue couldn't argue. "You know Spencer?"
"The sports world is surprisingly small. We've met at several charity functions. Sean knows him better than I do." Taking another sip of wine, Riley sent Blue a thoughtful look. "If I understand your problem, Spencer wants to take your relationship public. You don't."
"In a nutshell."
"Because…?"
"Right now, we're pressure free. Once the world knows about us, that's bound to change."
Riley nodded. "The first wave of publicity will be a shock. But like anything, that dies down."
"I know."
"You don't think your
relationship is strong enough to handle a few prying eyes?"
"I think it is. But," Blue took a deep breath, ready to admit for the first time something that terrified her. "I'm afraid to find out. I don't want to lose Spencer again."
"I understand. Even now. And Sean and I are about as solid as two people can get."
When Blue and Spencer were alone. Laughing. Making love. Or simply sitting watching television, she'd have sworn that nothing could separate them. Doubt only trickled in when Spencer was on the road, and she let her imagination take over.
Placing a hand on hers, Riley drew back Blue's attention. "If you want a guarantee, I'm afraid you're out of luck."
Blue already knew that. But talking to somebody who came at her and Spencer with fresh, unbiased eyes helped.
"How have you managed?" Riley shared some of Blue's experiences. Not asking for advice would've been foolish.
"I can only tell you what works for me. Every time we hit a rough patch. Either from external forces or one of our own making. I let myself vent. Then I take a step back and ask myself one question."
Eager, Blue waited.
"What would my life be like without Sean?"
"Unthinkable," Blue answered. For Riley. And for herself.
Riley nodded. "There's your answer. Feel better?"
"Yes? No? Maybe?"
Picking up a fry slathered in ketchup, Riley grinned. "That sounds about right."
"Enough about men!" Blue gave herself a mental shake. "Pre-season games are about to start. Ready to bring another Super Bowl title back to Seattle?"
The Knights won their third championship last February. The first since Riley started running the team. If they won again next year, that would be two in her brief tenure. Impressive for anybody. But for a young woman navigating a male-dominated world? Freaking spectacular.
"Personally? I hate this time of year."
Surprised, Blue paused, her sandwich halfway to her mouth.
"Really? Why?"
"Pre-season games are nothing but a way for the rich to become richer." Obviously, a subject she felt passionate about, she frowned into her wine. "We pack fans into the stadiums to watch meaningless battles. And why? Because they're willing to shell out their hard-earned money, and we're greedy. We risk the welfare of young men whose shelf life is short to start with."
For a Little While (One Strike Away Book 1) Page 14
