Charming the Shortstop

by Heather B. Moore

“Silvia hasn’t come home from school yet,” his mom said in a panicked voice. “She’s not answering my phone calls.”

  Axel gritted his teeth. “What time is she usually home? And did she have anything after school you might have forgotten about?”

  “No,” his mom said. “She’s an hour late. Can you call her? She’ll answer your calls.”

  It wasn’t always true, but the panic in his mom’s voice made him worried too. “I’ll call her right now.”

  “Thank you,” his mom said.

  Axel dialed Silvia’s number. No answer. So he texted: Mom’s frantic. Call her ASAP. You have ten minutes, or I’m restricting your cell service to emergency numbers only.

  Two minutes passed, and Silvia texted back: I’m calling her now. I was hanging out with a friend. You guys don’t need to freak out all the time.

  Axel’s first instinct was to call her and chew her out. But frankly, he was relieved she was okay. He sent a text to his mom: Silvia should be calling you any second.

  He exhaled, hoping that Silvia was being honest. Without a dad in the picture, Axel wanted to support her and his mom as much as possible. But a teenage sister was about to do him in.

  He blinked away those thoughts and read the signs that pointed to baggage claim. The regional airport was small, and soon he arrived at baggage claim. The conveyor belt was running, but no bags yet.

  Axel’s phone rang again, and he groaned when he saw that it was Sawyer calling again.

  “Hi, Skeet,” Axel said. “You know things will go a lot faster if I don’t have to keep answering the phone.”

  “Sorry,” Sawyer said. “My mom is being nutso. You’d think the president of the United States was coming tonight. So, you’re here, and you’ll be to the event center soon?”

  Axel eyed the conveyor. Still no sign of baggage, but the plane had been small. “I’m estimating thirty minutes. I’ll text you when I’m en route.”

  “Great,” Skeeter said. “By the way, she invited the twins.”

  Skeeter didn’t need to explain. The Grant twins were perhaps the most obnoxious women on the planet. But their father was a major donor to the university, and more specifically the baseball program. So the twin sisters were at all the functions, flirting up a storm with any player who looked their way. Blonde, bubbly, and outgoing—there was nothing wrong with them per se—but they were a bit overwhelming.

  Skeeter had dated one of them for about thirty minutes, but Axel had refused to even entertain the idea.

  “Since you’re the only one without a date,” Skeeter said, “you’re open game.”

  “Wait,” Axel said. “Do you have a date?”

  Skeeter chuckled but didn’t answer, not that Axel had noticed, because just then Brighton arrived at baggage claim. It appeared that she was escorting an elderly passenger. Brighton was wheeling her own carry-on, and she stopped with the older woman next to the conveyor. As if sensing Brighton’s presence, baggage began to dump onto the conveyor.

  “Maybe I will bring a date,” Axel said into the phone, not realizing exactly what he was thinking. But before Skeeter could pepper him with questions, Axel hung up.

  He didn’t move for a moment, because he didn’t want to get into Brighton’s space. Not after what Gabe had told him. Brighton was smiling and talking to the elderly woman, who then pointed to a floral suitcase. Brighton reached for it and hefted it off the conveyor.

  The suitcase tipped as she set it on the ground, and before Brighton could stop it, the thing fell over. The suitcase opened, and several things fell out.

  Axel hurried over to the spilled contents and knelt next to Brighton where she was scooping things up. “It looks like the zipper broke, Mrs. Chilton,” she was saying. “The airline will replace it at no cost.”

  “Goodness, I don’t mean for you to clean up my messes,” Mrs. Chilton said.

  “Not a problem,” Brighton said, then saw Axel.

  He saw the protest in her eyes. “I can help,” he said.

  “It’s okay, I’ve—” She stopped talking because Axel had gathered the last few items into the suitcase.

  “Point me to the claims office, and I can carry it.” He felt Brighton’s surprised stare, but Mrs. Chilton had no such reservations. The zipper had pulled away from the fabric portion, and there would be no way to wheel it without more things falling out.

  “Thank you, young man,” Mrs. Chilton said. “Everyone is so nice here.”

  Axel picked up the suitcase.

  Brighton’s gaze stayed on him as she said, “It’s over there. I’ll bring Mrs. Chilton.”

  “Sounds good.” Axel reached the claims counter well before Mrs. Chilton’s slower pace.

  Well, maybe he wouldn’t be to the rehearsal dinner in thirty minutes. He’d have to text Skeeter an update. Axel turned to wait for Brighton and Mrs. Chilton. As he saw the two women approach, one young and beautiful, the other in the last decade of her life but also beautiful, Axel felt an unexpected ping in his heart.

  He couldn’t quite remember what his reservations had been about dating before, but it seemed he was reconsidering his previous misgivings.

  CHAPTER 6

  So Axel Diaz was sort of everybody’s hero, it seemed. From helping a guy with a panic attack to taking care of creepy men, to rescuing an elderly woman with her broken luggage.

  Brighton tried not to let these three events overwhelm her senses, because overwhelmed she felt.

  Axel stayed with Mrs. Chilton as she filled out a claim with shaky handwriting. Just his presence alone seemed to calm the old woman and bring more energy to the tired-looking airport employee. Whatever the challenges of her job, Brighton was glad she didn’t work in a claims office. No one would ever have something positive to say.

  Brighton hadn’t imagined that she’d be in this close of range to Axel again. It was like everywhere she turned, there he was. He glanced over at her, and their gazes connected.

  His lips lifted in a half smile, and heat raced through her. Calm down, Brighton, she thought fiercely. This guy has women falling at his feet all across the country.

  The claims guy asked Mrs. Chilton a few questions, and she kept looking to Axel for reassurance. He was patient with her, explaining what the claims guy was asking. It seemed Brighton had been dumped for a pro baseball player. Well, she didn’t mind, but she didn’t feel like she could just say goodbye to the woman until Brighton made sure the lady had a ride home.

  Before Brighton could ask, her phone rang. “Hi, Gabe,” she said.

  “Where are you?” he asked. “I’ve been in the Uber for fifteen minutes.”

  “Um, go ahead, I’ll find another ride,” Brighton said. “I’m helping a lady with her broken suitcase.”

  Gabe sighed good-naturedly. “Of course you are. See you at the hotel later. Want to catch dinner at the hotel bar? The Arizona Falcons are playing.”

  “Uh, sure,” she said. “I’ll keep you posted.” She hung up and found that Axel’s gold-brown eyes were on her.

  What was he thinking? And why did he keep looking at her like he wanted to say something that wasn’t about old ladies and broken suitcases? And how could one human be so... beautiful? His T-shirt made it no secret that he spent plenty of time lifting weights or otherwise working on things torso-related. Except for the necklace, he wore no other jewelry, not even a watch. And his jeans... She averted her eyes. Now her face was getting hot.

  Thankfully, Axel was focusing on Mrs. Chilton again. “This is your new suitcase,” he told her.

  “Already?” Mrs. Chilton asked. “They aren’t going to ship it?”

  “No, they have some in stock for cases just like yours,” he said. “I can help you transfer your stuff.”

  Mrs. Chilton seemed to consider this. “All right. I should call Jeff though. He’s probably wondering where I am. He’s my son, you know.”

  Brighton moved closer. “You call your son, and I’ll help with your things too.” She felt Axel’s gaze on
her, but she didn’t look at him. She was the one who should be helping this woman anyway.

  Brighton had seen plenty of Rolexes, diamond earrings, Gucci shoes, Louis Vuitton handbags... you name it. Yet Axel Diaz didn’t have that vibe she got from so many first-class passengers, the one that told her she was there to clean up their trash and that they made a hundred times the amount she ever would.

  It took only a few minutes to transfer Mrs. Chilton’s belongings to the new suitcase, and Brighton tried to ignore how her skin hummed at the nearness of Axel. He smelled good, like a faint spice.

  “Thanks again,” she told him after he zipped up the suitcase and set it on the ground.

  He nodded, his eyes on her again. “You’re welcome.”

  His low voice was like a soft brush against her skin.

  “I don’t think we’ve properly met,” she said and stuck out her hand. “I’m Brighton West.”

  The edges of his mouth lifted, and he extended his hand, then enveloped her hand with his. “Axel Diaz.”

  She knew his name, yet hearing him say it made it all the more official. “Nice to meet you, Axel Diaz.”

  “You too, Brighton West.”

  He hadn’t let go of her hand, and she didn’t mind in the least. She should probably say something, or at least drop his hand. But apparently her common sense had gone to another universe.

  “So where are you from?” he asked.

  Okay. He was still holding her hand and asking her leading questions... She exhaled. And released his hand.

  His smile moved up a notch.

  “Seattle, actually,” she said. “And you? I mean... You live in Seattle now, I assume?”

  He nodded, his eyes not leaving hers. “I grew up in California.”

  She knew this as well. Single-parent family. One younger sister. Played college in Belltown.

  Why was she breathless? She wasn’t a giddy sixteen-year-old. “How do you like the rainy northwest?” Yep. She’d asked him about the weather. Was there nothing else she could say?

  “I don’t mind the rain.”

  An image flashed through her mind of Axel playing baseball in the rain. His jersey wet, his skin damp... Focus, Brighton. “I guess we get used to wherever we live, right?” Still talking about the weather.

  “That’s what I keep telling myself,” he said.

  The answer sounded like there was some history to it.

  “There you are, Mom,” a male voice said, and Brighton was mercifully interrupted from asking Axel any other weather-related questions.

  Brighton turned to see a short, red-haired man approach. He had the same eyes and nose as Mrs. Chilton. “Are these the nice folks who helped you?”

  “They sure are.” Mrs. Chilton’s faded blue eyes sparkled. “This is the flight attendant and her handsome boyfriend.”

  Brighton was about to correct Mrs. Chilton when the red-haired man gaped at Axel. “Oh my gosh. You’re... You’re...”

  Axel held out his hand. “Axel Diaz. Nice to meet you.”

  “I’m Jeff Chilton,” the man said. “I don’t even know what to say.” He looked at his mother. “Mom, this is Axel Diaz—he plays for the Sharks.”

  Mrs. Chilton’s nose wrinkled. “What? The football team?”

  “No,” Jeff said. “The baseball team.” He scrubbed a hand over his stubby haircut. “I can’t believe this.” Then he patted his pockets. “Can you sign something?”

  Axel only chuckled. “What have you got?”

  Jeff looked momentarily blank, then turned. “Sign the back of my shirt.”

  As Axel signed his name, Brighton wondered what other requests Axel had had to field.

  Jeff tugged at his shirt and craned his head to see his back. “How does it look?”

  “Like someone scribbled with marker on your shirt,” Mrs. Chilton said.

  Axel laughed. It was a nice, warm laugh, and a fresh round of goose bumps tickled Brighton’s skin.

  Jeff grinned. “Well, thanks, man. And good luck with your games. I’ll be watching.”

  The two men shook hands, and as Jeff and his mom walked away, he was still explaining who Axel Diaz was.

  Brighton found herself smiling. The mother-and-son duo were adorable. And since she didn’t have to report back to the airlines until tomorrow morning, she had a free night. Maybe she’d tell Gabe she’d take a rain check and instead indulge in a long bath and order room service.

  Except... Axel Diaz was still standing next to her.

  “I guess you get that kind of stuff a lot,” she said, proud that they’d moved on from talking about the weather.

  “Yeah,” he said with a shrug. “It was kind of crazy at first, but I don’t mind most of the time. Especially if they’re decent people like the Chiltons.”

  “It’s good of you to help them out,” she said. “I mean, you’re probably busy all the time. Or tired from working out... uh, playing baseball.” Her face was undoubtedly red again.

  Axel shrugged again, which only brought attention to his well-formed shoulders. “It’s a job, just like everything else.”

  Brighton scoffed. She hadn’t meant to, but it had just happened.

  Axel quirked a brow. “What?”

  “Playing professional baseball is not just a job—it’s not like everything else.” She folded her arms. “I mean, you’re doing your ‘job’ in front of thousands of people every game. People cheer for you—”

  “Or boo.”

  “Or boo,” she conceded. “And your games are televised, and everywhere you go, people want your autograph. And those contracts are enough to give the average citizen a heart attack.” Was she saying too much? Axel was watching her, his mouth curved.

  “It’s pretty amazing to think that your job is to catch and throw a ball,” she said. “And people are enthralled watching you do it.”

  Now he was fully smiling. She decided that he was flat-out gorgeous and that she should really stop talking. “Too much?” she asked in a more subdued voice.

  “What are you doing for dinner tonight, Brighton West?” he asked.

  For a second, she didn’t think she’d heard him right. Because it wasn’t possible, not in this universe or any other universe, that Axel Diaz would ask her, a flight attendant who was used to being picked up by half-drunk airline passengers, to join him for dinner.

  “I’m, uh, thinking...”

  He took a step closer. Close enough that she had to tilt her head up to hold his gaze. Because although she was five foot eight, and maybe five foot ten in her heels, Axel Diaz was a good six inches taller than her.

  “When you’re done thinking, I was wondering if you could think about going out to dinner with me,” Axel said.

  His gold-brown eyes were warm and inviting, and they made her feel all melty inside.

  “It’s more of a rehearsal dinner,” Axel continued. “In Belltown. My friend’s mom is getting married. And, well, I was supposed to bring a date. But I didn’t. And so I thought of you. If you could make it.”

  “Me?” Brighton said, blinking, not hearing anything else he’d said. “You thought of me?”

  Amusement filled those tiger-eyes of his. “Is that okay?”

  Axel Diaz was asking her out. Holy Hector. She could say no. Take a long bath in her hotel room. Order room service. Live with regret for the rest of her life. “I don’t care much for weddings.”

  Axel smiled. “Neither do I. We could ditch as soon as possible. There’s other places we could go in Belltown.”

  So maybe it was his smile, or maybe it was because this had been the most surreal day of her life, or maybe it was because she’d always have something to look back on when she was Mrs. Chilton’s age... the night she went to dinner with a pro baseball player... Whatever it was, Brighton managed to maintain some semblance of calm and said, “Okay, I’ll go with you.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Axel ended up being late to the rehearsal dinner after all. But it was for a very good reason. Once he
’d texted Skeeter that he was bringing a date, the pressure was off.

  Axel and Brighton had shared an Uber to her hotel, and he waited in the lobby while she changed. He told her she could dress casually, but she’d gone into the hotel gift shop and browsed through their clothing selection, then came up with something.

  He’d offered to pay, but she’d refused.

  And now he was waiting for her to appear. He’d brought a blazer and a button-down in his luggage, but he was still wearing his jeans. He’d used the public restroom to change while Brighton was upstairs. He knew that Steal would likely wear a leather jacket—which he considered dressing up. Big Dawg would probably wear a tuxedo, and Axel would enjoy razzing him about it.

  So Axel had no problem with showing up in jeans. And apparently he had no problem asking an almost stranger to a wedding rehearsal dinner. He should be freaking out, or at least questioning his sanity. But he wasn’t. In fact, he was feeling good. Calm. Collected. His mom had even texted him to say that she and Silvia were hitting the movies tonight.

  Things were good at home. Things were good in Belltown.

  The elevator dinged open, and Brighton stepped out. It seemed Axel hadn’t paid too close attention to the outfit she’d picked out from the gift shop, because he didn’t remember it being anything how it looked now.

  The pale-blue dress Brighton wore was more of a halter top combined with a skirt. Her arms were bare, and the length of the skirt hit maybe mid-thigh. He had known her legs were long, but in this type of dress, they looked a mile long. She was wearing the same black heels she had worn with her flight-attendant uniform—and yeah, he had noticed her shoes.

  Brighton wore no other jewelry, save for the pearl earrings she’d had on earlier. He’d noticed those too. But now her hair was down, the dark waves tumbling down her back. A woman like Brighton needed no adornment, and the most charming thing about her was that she didn’t seem to be aware that she was absolutely beautiful.

  Brighton’s gaze found his, and Axel wondered what eye color had been written down on her birth certificate. Was violet even an option?

  “Ready?” Brighton asked, giving him a once-over as she approached. Pink stole across her cheeks when her eyes met his again.