She hadn’t expected him to break up with her over baseball, but there wasn’t anything she could do about that now. It had been a straightforward breakup just before his senior season had really started, and the most uncomplicated breakup of her entire life. His regret had been clear, and his reluctance gave her hope, even though she knew how determined he was.
How determined he’d always been.
If there was one thing she could say she knew full well about Sawyer Bennett, it was that when he set his mind to something, he absolutely would follow through to the end.
Even if something, or someone, stood in his way.
At that time, it had been Erica standing in his way. Or so he’d claimed. She’d never wanted him to be faced with a choice of her or the sport he adored, and she’d never given him an ultimatum. She’d loved him just as he was, head case and baseball and all, but apparently he could not have more than one love in his life.
And that was that.
Somehow they’d remained friends, though their time together had decreased in frequency as the rest of the semester went on. When graduation had come, he hadn’t been there, and it was only after the draft and the first documentary about the Six Pack that she’d learned he never obtained his degree. He moved away to start his career, and so did she.
She hadn’t seen him since college—until the other day.
He looked good.
He looked really, really good.
And he’d hugged her really tight.
Don’t you dare, her saner side warned. Don’t go there.
She closed out of the seminar notes and went back to her emails, glancing up at the projector first to make sure she really wasn’t missing anything in this meeting.
Scrolling through her inbox again, she found a message that wasn’t junk at all, and her lungs cramped in an awkward way at seeing it.
It was from Sawyer Bennett, according to the email, though she supposed an assistant could have sent it, if he had one. But the subject line read Hey Teach, which an assistant probably wouldn’t have done, unless under instructions.
Which would be weird.
She opened the email, her emotions going off in twelve different directions, and carefully read each word.
Hi Teach,
It was insanely good to see you on campus. All we needed was a stack of your pancakes and it would have been old times! The guys all say hi, and Grizz wants to give you a bear hug, so guard your ribs if you see him. The game was awesome, right? Can’t believe we beat Franklin! What a night.
So I’m not going to be in Ohio for a while, and I didn’t want you to think I wasn’t calling on purpose. We’re headed out to Arizona for preseason training and games. We play in the Cactus League, if you follow any of that. Should be good, I’ll get to play Grizz and Rabbit while we’re down there.
I lost your number when my phone busted some time back, but Rachel still had emails going back years. Of course, I had to tell her I saw you, and my sister turned into a detective. I’m sorry in advance if she gets to you. Call me if you need SWAT. 912-443-0218.
Don’t give that out, or I’ll call up Dr. Barnes and tell him about what really happened to your geology project.
Skeeter
It would likely earn her some curious looks, but she grinned down at her tablet without shame.
Arizona? Right when she was going to Arizona? Granted, it was a huge state, so there was still the possibility that they would be ages apart from each other, but there was no reason she couldn’t drive down to a game or two while she was there.
If he wanted.
He had said she should go to games in Ohio; why should Arizona be different?
She closed her tablet and drummed her fingers on the table, pretending at attentiveness for a minute, then pulled out her phone, typing in the number she had somehow already memorized.
Hey Sawyer, it’s Erica. Guess what.
* * *
She was in love with her newly rented Arizona apartment. It was larger than her place in Albany and had way more amenities, not to mention it was perfectly located, fully furnished, and right across the street from a Mexican restaurant she was dying to try.
The museum had really set her up well this time. She might have to reconsider wanting to go into teaching instead of traveling.
She’d been in Arizona three days, and she had finally adjusted to the time change, though she still had some unpacking to do. The open-ended nature of her trip had her a little nervous, but considering she wasn’t the one who had to pay for the airfare, or rent for that matter, she wasn’t going to voice her concerns.
Her colleagues in Arizona were welcoming and warm, and they had given her a full tour of the museum and full access to anything she wanted. The exhibits were fascinating and pristine, and she’d gone through the entire place as a visitor first, then as a curator, taking notes as she went. It had been one of her favorite museum visits to date, and she was actually excited to get started.
The meetings didn’t start until tomorrow, though, and even then, things were going to be so laidback that she was destined to have more free time than she had thought.
What to do with that?
Her mom wanted her to explore and send pictures and videos. Meg wanted her to get them all some awesome cultural souvenirs, though she had yet to actually tell Erica what exactly she wanted. Bryant, her brother, wanted her to learn how to make what he called “legit Mexican food,” which was laughable, as Erica was the worst cook in the family.
She would certainly find out which restaurants were the best, but she wouldn’t be making anything. At all.
Especially considering she had been approved as an adjunct professor for Belltown, and her first classes started next week.
Classes. As in plural. She had been given multiple classes right off the bat.
There had been a pretty epic dance party when she’d received that email.
Her other classes she had been teaching here and there had wrapped up, so she had been able to apply for multiple classes from Belltown U, but she hadn’t thought she’d get them all. Getting lessons prepped had been exciting and exhilarating, and she couldn’t wait for things to start, though she knew full well that most of the students taking her classes weren’t exactly going to be the dedicated sort. Some would be, of course, but her classes were fairly basic, which generally meant that students were only filling requirements.
Hard to be enthusiastic about a forced course.
She didn’t mind so much. She was sure she could make the class entertaining enough to avoid being drudgery and useful enough to not be a waste of time. It was a fine line, and one she’d learned to maneuver well as a tutor in her undergraduate days.
The Six Pack had had quite a hand in tutoring her in that regard. Her teaching style would never have developed as it had if she’d had a different group of students, and for that alone she would be grateful.
The friendships she’d forged with them had been icing on the cake.
She missed that even now. But lines were drawn in a breakup, and out of necessity, the Six Pack had stuck together, as they should have done.
Still stung a bit though.
No relationship she’d had since had meant as much as that one.
No one else was Sawyer.
But even that relationship had ended, so she wasn’t sure what that meant for her.
Her phone buzzed, bringing her out of her memories, and she reached for it, glancing at the screen briefly.
Sawyer.
“Seriously?” she said to herself, suddenly needing to swallow hard. She pushed the Answer button and brought the shaking phone to her ear. “Hello?”
“Hey,” Sawyer responded brightly. “You here?”
Erica smiled and looked up at her ceiling. “Where’s here?”
She heard him laugh once. “The Grand Canyon State, Teach. Glorious, sunny, non-humid, warm Arizona.”
“Hmm,” she mused, still smiling. “Deserty, dry, lo
ts of prickly plants, and loads of turquoise?”
“That’s the one. Know it?”
“We’ve been introduced.” She sat back on her couch, tucking her feet up. “Barely.”
“Great!” he said, and he sounded as though he really meant it. “You feeling like escaping?”
Erica chuckled, making a face he wouldn’t see. “I thought I did escape. Isn’t that what I’m doing here? And what you’re doing here? Escaping winter, right?”
“Hey, I like winter,” Sawyer protested. “I was fine with winter. Just makes it tough to play baseball, that’s all.”
“Ahh,” Erica replied, nodding to herself. “That old thing. How is she? Letting you take her home yet?”
She heard a car door slam and some keys jangle. “Sure is! Haven’t met her parents yet, though. Bit nervous about that one.”
“You’ll be fine, I’m sure.” She shook her head, laughing. “How are you? Training okay?”
“Great, actually. Arm is feeling good, getting some good reps, and Sarge is putting me in for the opener against Philly. Nothing like starting things off for making an impression.”
“That’s fantastic, Sawyer! I’ll have to come see it.”
Keys jangled again. “I have your season tickets in my hands as we speak. Back to my question. You want to escape?”
Erica sat up, heart pounding. “And do what?”
“How long since you had amazing Mexican?” he asked, and she could hear the smile in his voice.
“Two days,” she recited without shame. “I hit up a local place my first night in.”
“Good girl. Meet me at this place called Casa Dea. It’s in Tempe; I’ll send you the address. The fajitas are legit.”
Erica rolled her eyes with a snort. “Don’t say legit. You sound like my brother.”
Sawyer laughed, making her smile again. “Fair enough. It’s very, very good. You coming?”
“Give me twenty minutes,” she told him as she pushed off of the couch. “I’m in sweats.”
“So am I,” he told her. “Come as you are.”
She looked at the phone as if he were crazy, then put it back to her ear. “No way. Twenty.”
“Fifteen,” he insisted. “I’m starving.”
Erica sighed in exasperation. “There goes the makeup. Thanks, Sawyer.”
“You don’t need it anyway. Get going! See you soon.”
He hung up before she could respond, and she just looked at her phone for a moment, completely bewildered.
What in the world was this?
Was she really meeting up with her favorite ex for Mexican on a whim?
They were less than half an hour from each other, and she had just gotten here. This could set a precedent. Did she want that?
She stood there in her sweats, chewing her lip for a long moment.
Then she bolted for her room, yanking her shirt off and rummaging in her barely put-together closet for something she could stand to be seen in.
Sixteen minutes later, she was walking into the restaurant at a brisk pace, slightly out of breath and, she was ashamed to admit, a little sweaty.
Dark shirts were a blessing in times like these.
She looked moderately cute, though Meg would have shrieked about her having black and brown in the same outfit. Considering she’d had almost no time to get ready and she had managed to get some basic makeup on and didn’t look as though she were homeless, Erica was calling this a win.
She hadn’t even seen Sawyer yet, and it was a win.
So far.
The interior of the restaurant was brightly colored with murals on each wall, sombreros and desert paraphernalia hanging here and there, and festive mariachi music playing over the speakers. There were a few guests in the place, and she scanned quickly for any overly attractive baseball players that might be hanging out in the vicinity.
It took a minute, but then she found one.
Just one.
He was poring over the menu, not looking for her, and for some reason, that was perfect.
That was the Sawyer she remembered.
She smiled at the hostess and told her she saw her party, and she headed towards the table. Sawyer looked up as she approached and broke into a wide grin that made her cheeks heat. He got up quickly, his snug Black Racers T-shirt riding up just a little as he moved out of the booth, and his dampened hair looked darker than its usual sandy color.
He opened his arms wide. “Erica!”
Gosh, he was good-looking.
She shook the errant thought away and smiled back. “Hey, stranger.” She moved into his embrace, taking a moment to appreciate the fantastic smell of freshly showered man.
He pulled back, and she saw the faint edges of peeling sunburn on his nose and the outline of eye black on his cheeks. “You hungry?” he asked, stooping a little to look her in the eye.
Erica hefted her purse strap more securely on her shoulder. “Starving. Did you save me any chips and salsa?”
He gestured to the table, where a mostly full basket of chips sat next to two small dishes of salsa. “I did. It wasn’t easy, but I managed to restrain myself.”
She gave him a dubious look as she moved into the booth. “My hero.” She picked up a menu, scanning it quickly. “You decide on anything yet?”
“Fajitas,” he said simply as he sat back down, folding his hands on the table. “And a burrito combo.”
Erica looked at him over the menu. “Don’t they feed you on your team?”
“Not Mexican,” he shot back. His attention shifted to just behind her, then he grinned. “Also, I ordered drinks for us.”
“Oh yeah? What am I drinking today?” she asked without looking up.
Sawyer grunted once. “Same as always. Diet Coke with a lime wedge, water with lemon, both with minimal ice.”
Slowly, Erica peeked over the top of the menu at him, unable to completely hide her shock.
He smiled easily. “You’re very specific, Erica. Not hard to remember.”
That was true, she supposed, but…
“Okay,” she said slowly, folding the menu and setting it aside. “Let’s try something harder. Order for me.”
His eyes narrowed, but he inclined his head. “If you insist.”
As if on cue, the waiter appeared with their drinks, setting them down. Then he pulled out a notepad. “Can I get you some appetizers, or are you ready to order your meal?”
“I’ll have the steak fajitas,” Sawyer told him with a crooked smile. “And the two-burrito combo with queso.”
“Got it. And for you, ma’am?” he asked, looking at Erica expectantly.
Erica gestured at Sawyer, then folded her arms.
Sawyer sat up straighter and pulled the menu back out. “She will have… the green-chili enchiladas with pork, and how about a side of guac for the chips?”
The waiter looked at Erica for confirmation, and she nodded, smiling reluctantly. “He nailed it.”
Sawyer pumped his fist, making her roll her eyes.
The waiter laughed and moved away.
Erica shook her head. “How did you know?”
Sawyer shrugged. “Lucky guess. I figured it was either that or the chimichangas, and you wouldn’t have been upset with either.”
“True enough,” she admitted. She smiled at him and took a chance. “You look good, Sawyer.”
He raised a brow. “Better than in Belltown?”
“Well, you’re getting a tan,” she pointed out. Then she gestured to her chin. “And this is gone, which is nice.”
He rubbed his jaw. “I kinda miss it, but it’s just hot down here. Fun, but hot. Speaking of…” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out an envelope, sliding it across the table to her. “Tickets.”
Erica took the envelope and looked inside, several tickets within. She looked up at Sawyer. “Is there one for every game in here?”
Sawyer nodded. “Wasn’t sure what your schedule was. Come when you can. If you want.”
<
br /> She did want. She very much did.
Touched, she tucked the tickets into her purse, her smile beginning to make her cheeks ache. “Thanks, Sawyer.”
“Seems the least I can do,” he told her, rubbing at his upper arm. “Considering I just found out you’re teaching one of my online classes.”
“I’m what?” she cried, laughing at his sheepish expression. “Seriously?”
He nodded. “Museums and Culture, with Erica Moore as my instructor. What are the odds, right?”
Erica took a chip and scooped it into the salsa. “This isn’t going to get you a better grade, you know.”
“I know,” he replied, taking a chip himself. “But it doesn’t hurt either.” He winked, then laughed as he popped the chip in his mouth.
She shook her head, eating her own chip. “What are the odds?” she murmured, repeating his words.
“About the same as you and me winding up in Arizona at the same time, within fifty miles of each other.” He quirked his brows, grinning again. “Meant to be, Teach. Just enjoy it.”
“Uh-huh,” she replied before smacking his hand away from the chip she wanted, making him laugh. “I better enjoy this food, too.”
Sawyer grinned, reaching for a different chip. “You will. You’ll enjoy both, I promise.”
Erica returned his smile. “I think I will.”
CHAPTER 4
There weren’t many things quite like feeling exhausted and sore after a tough practice, especially when he knew he’d done well.
Today was one of those days.
Sawyer winced as he leaned back in the ice bath, the frigid pain one with which he was well acquainted—but that didn’t make it any easier to endure. Panting in short, controlled bursts, he settled against the back of the tub, then groaned through clenched teeth.
“Baby.”
Sawyer rolled his head on the edge of the tub to glare at Mace, currently getting his arms rubbed out. “Look who’s talking. ‘Ow, my arms hurt, can I get a massage?’ Wuss.”
Mace suddenly grimaced as the athletic trainer found a particularly tender spot. “If you think this is any more fun than that, you’ve got another thing coming.” He groaned again and buried his face into the table, muffling curses.
Suddenly the ice bath didn’t seem so bad. At least Sawyer would go numb eventually. He made a face up at the athletic trainer, who looked sympathetic but shrugged.
Hitching the Pitcher Page 4
