Diva In The Dugout (All Is Fair In Love And Baseball)
Page 17
Mamma threw back her head and laughed so loud that everyone in the diner turned to stare. When she wiped the tears from her eyes, she patted Mel’s hand. “Your daddy and I argue plenty—just not with an audience. We agreed years ago never to fight in front of you kids, even though I tried to convince him that’d give you a warped view.” She laughed again, the dimples coming out in her cheeks. “I can’t wait to tell him I was right.”
“You two argue? No way.” Even during her pregnancy, when her mother had to fight tooth and nail to convince her father not to hunt down her baby’s daddy, they never raised their voices.
“Like two dogs snarling over one bone.” Mamma squeezed her hand again. “I’d be more worried if we didn’t. Passion—in the bedroom and out—keeps a relationship alive.”
****
When their game of Chutes and Ladders ended, Tara batted her eyelashes over big, hazel eyes. “What now, Daddy?”
He checked his watch. It was after twelve. “You hungry?”
“Can we have McDonald’s?”
“Why not?” A Happy Meal, while not the most nutritious choice, would taste better than anything he could make out of a can.
After lunch, Tara leaned into the PlayPlace, wide eyes fixed on the slide.
“Wanna go play?”
“Uh-huh.”
Tara slipped her tiny hand into his. Together they dumped their trash and raced to the empty playground. Once there, Dave let Tara clamber up the slide. She made the trip three more times before another child—a scrawny kid with thick, black-framed eyeglasses—approached. They reached the ladder at the same time.
He held his breath, ready to intervene to avoid a playground brawl. But Tara just stepped back. The dimples in her cheeks flashed at the newcomer. “You can go first.”
Dave couldn’t have been prouder as he watched them play together. His little girl was a charmer, and she played well with kids he’d have pushed around.
Smart, sensitive, caring. Mel was raising her right.
He clenched his fists. When his little girl grew into a lovely young woman, he wanted to be able to say he had something to do with it. If that meant giving up baseball for a job that kept him closer to Tara and Mel, so be it.
He thumped his fist against his thigh. “Not like my career’s going anywhere anyway.”
No, his batting average was crap and his fielding was mediocre at best. He’d never make it out of the minors. He had two, maybe three, good years left before his ball-playing days were over. Better to retire now, before everyone realized how average he was.
His took his eyes off his charming, graceful daughter long enough to dial Jerry’s number. “I quit.”
“Are you nuts?” Jerry’s voice cracked on the last syllable. “You can’t quit now, Reynolds. At least wait until you’ve got your head on straight.”
“My head is on straight.” He might not have a plan or another job lined up, but his future had never been clearer. “My family should be my priority.”
Jerry grumbled something that sounded like “Damn fool shrink wasn’t supposed to talk you out of baseball.” Then he raised his voice. “Don’t do anything hasty, son. I’ll take your resignation under advisement, but I won’t let you quit on a whim.”
“I won’t change my mind, Jer.”
Dave was still scowling at the phone when Tara ran up to him and laid her chubby hand on his knee. “What’s wrong, Daddy?”
“Nothing, sweetheart.” He dredged up a smile. “Want some ice cream?”
“TCBY!”
“McDonald’s has cones.” They were a heck of a lot cheaper than the frozen yogurt place’s, too. Now that he was unemployed, he needed to watch his pennies.
“I know.” She smiled and fluttered her eyelashes. “TCBY’s better.”
Was she flirting with him? Dave nearly swallowed his tongue. Maybe it was natural for little girls to practice flirting on their fathers. He’d have to ask the doc next time. “TCBY it is.”
It wasn’t as though he was completely broke, after all. He had a sizeable nest egg courtesy of his father. Over the years, his dad had sporadically mailed home checks—some large, some small. He’d socked them all into an account he refused to touch because he didn’t want the old man’s guilt money.
For the first time in his life, he was glad for that cash. He’d use it to become the father his old man should have been.
****
When Mel returned from lunch, Dave was in the living room, alone.
“Where’s Tara?”
“Outside.”
“Good, because I want to talk to you.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “So talk.”
Mel winced at Dave’s closed-off stance, but by the way she’d been acting, she couldn’t blame him.
“Mamma and I had a ‘come to Jesus’ meeting over lunch.”
His eyebrows jumped. “Didn’t think you two were on speaking terms.”
“This was her ‘let-me-make-it-up-to-you’ lunch.” She laid her hand on Dave’s forearm. “And I’m glad I did. She helped me realize a few things.”
That had his attention. “Such as?”
Her cheeks warmed. “Such as I’m an idiot for making you sleep on the porch.” She stepped into the circle of his arms, and smiled against his shoulder when he hugged her tightly.
His voice was husky in her ear. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever realize that.”
“Turns out I’ve had some pretty unrealistic expectations.” She pulled away so she could look Dave in the eye. “Did you know even my lovey-dovey parents argue?”
“Everyone does.”
“Not my folks—at least I didn’t think so. I’d only ever seen them acting completely besotted with each other.”
Understanding lit his face. “So when we argued—”
“I thought we were all wrong for each other, yeah.” She snickered. “Turns out they do their fighting behind closed doors.”
“Guess some parents feel that way.” He raised his eyes skyward. “Wish mine had. They were at each other’s throats every time the old man came home from one of his ‘business’ trips.”
“That must have been rough.”
“Got so I was glad he didn’t come home, even though I needed a father.” Dave tightened his arms around her waist. “Mel, I don’t want to be an absentee father like my dad. I want to be here—for both of you. All the time.”
She searched his face for traces of doubt or deception and found none. She saw only the conviction she’d been afraid to hope for—a certainty so strong it worried her. “All the time?”
Dave nodded. “I called our manager today and told him I quit. Nothing’s going to keep me from you and Tara.”
Oh God. It was much worse than she’d feared. He’d be miserable without the game he loved—and eventually he’d come to hate both her and Tara if she let him go through with his resignation. “You don’t have to quit your job for us.”
“But my constant traveling is the one thing keeping you from taking me at my word.”
Mel took a deep breath. She needed the courage to tell him her real hang-up before he blew his future to hell. “Your job isn’t the problem.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but she pressed a finger to his lips. “I’ll admit I was beyond pissed when you didn’t show up the other day. But you had a good excuse. I might have done the same thing in your shoes.”
Taken aback by his intense stare, she drew in another shaky breath. “I used your behavior as an excuse to push you away because I’ve been afraid to believe in you—in us.”
“You told me you were ready to believe.”
“That was lust talking.”
“Lust, huh?” The corners of his lips quirked up.
“I was crushed when my fiancé dumped me—so much that I doubted everything about myself.” She flashed him a small, sad smile. “Picking you up that night was a desperate attempt to prove to myself someone wanted me.”
Dave
’s hands fisted. “Your fiancé was a dumbass. Everyone in that bar wanted you. I was just lucky enough to get you.”
“Thanks, Dave.” She loved him all the more for the lie. “I left you in that hotel room, alone, not just because I was mortified I’d slept with a total stranger but because I was scared you wouldn’t want me out of bed. I wanted to avoid the awkward morning after, where you promised we’d stay in touch when we both knew we wouldn’t.”
“And then you ended up pregnant.”
Mel nodded. “And I swung between kicking myself for calling you ‘Muscles’ all night and being glad I didn’t know your name. I figured you wouldn’t thank me for making you a father.”
“Back then, I wouldn’t have.” When his eyes locked on hers, the intensity sent shivers down her spine. “Now, I wouldn’t have it any other way. You and Tara are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
“That’s what I still have trouble believing. In my mind, I’m still a scared, almost-twenty-year-old motor mouth, knocked up by a guy whose name she didn’t care enough to get.”
Amusement danced in Dave’s eyes. “You and your mother had quite the talk.”
“She helped me face a few cold, hard truths.”
He took her by the hand and led her to the couch. “Have a seat, Mel. Want to know how I see you?”
Nodding, she settled back against the cushions and tucked her legs up.
“Back then, you were a hot, barely-legal babe who left me twisting in the wind.” He chuckled. “You were the only woman ever to leave me—I was usually the one sneaking out under cover of darkness.”
She grimaced. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. That’s why I couldn’t get you off my mind.” He paused. “Or maybe a part of me knew what I’d left with you.”
He didn’t give her the chance to interrupt. “When I look at you now, I still see that hot babe, but I also see a kind, caring, wonderful woman who’s doing a great job raising our daughter.” He caressed her cheek. “We could only be so lucky as to have Tara be just like you.”
“Bite your tongue. I wouldn’t wish being a single mother on anyone.”
Dave coughed and then grinned. “Minus that, of course.”
Mel smiled back. “You think I’m all that?”
“And more. I love you, Melinda Sue Cline.”
This time, she believed the words she’d never expected to hear from another man. They filled her heart and soul with joy and the promise of a bright future. “I love you, too, Dave ‘Muscles’ Reynolds.”
He laughed as he knocked her back on the couch, covering her body with his. “You have nothing to be afraid of, Mel.”
Certain he was right, Mel welcomed the warmth flooding through her. “This time, I really am ready to believe.”
THE END
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I’d like to give a shout-out to all the folks who have supported me in my quest for publication: my Northern Arizona RWA chapter mates; my roommate, who went with me when I won “Dinner with a Romance Writer” from a local radio station and met my first NARWAns; my fellow 2011 Golden Heart finalists, the Starcatchers; members of the Power Writing Hour and LaLaLas; and the baristas at the Camp Verde and Flagstaff, Arizona, Starbucks stores who kept me supplied with lattes and (too many) pastries during long hours of writing/editing.
ABOUT ARLENE HITTLE
Arlene Hittle is a Midwestern transplant who now makes her home in northern Arizona. She suffers from the well-documented Hittle family curse of being a Cubs fan but will root for the Diamondbacks until they run up against the Cubs. Longtime friends are amazed she writes books with sports in them, since she’s about as coordinated as a newborn giraffe and used to say marching band required more exertion than golf. Find her at arlenehittle.com, on Twitter or on Facebook.
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