Part 13 (1/2)
”I didn't want to make it easy for you to say no.”
”I'm still saying no, Pru.”
”What if I said I need you?” she asked softly.
He paused for the slightest of beats. ”Then I'd say you have my full attention.”
”I mean we need you. The team,” she said. ”We'll have to forfeit-”
”No.”
She crossed her arms. ”You said I had your attention.”
”You have that and more,” he said cryptically. ”But I'm still not playing tonight. Or any night.”
She knew he was living life carefully, always prepared for anything to go bad. But she knew that wasn't any way to live because the truth was that any minute life could be poof-gone. ”Do you remember the other day when you caught me at my worst and saw a few of my demons?” she asked quietly.
”You mean when the picture frame broke.”
”Yes,” she said, not surprised he knew exactly what she was talking about, that she hadn't been even slightly effective in hiding her painful memories from him.
”You didn't want to talk about it,” he said.
”No,” she agreed. ”And you let me get away with that.” She dropped her gaze a little and stared at his torso rather than let him see what she was feeling now. ”Whether it was because it doesn't matter to you, or because you have your own demons, I don't know, but-”
”Pru.”
Oh thank G.o.d, he'd shut her up. Sometimes she really needed help with that. She stared at his neck now, unable to help noticing even in her growing distress and sudden discomfort that he had a very masculine throat, one that made her want to press her face to it and maybe her lips too. And her tongue . . .
”Pru, look at me.”
He said this in his usual low timbre, but there was a gentle demand to the tone now that had her lifting her gaze to his.
”It matters,” he said. ”You matter.”
This caused that now familiar squishy feeling in her belly, the one only he seemed to be able to evoke. But it also meant that it was his demons eating at him and this killed her. ”Softball is a problem for you,” she whispered.
”No.” He closed his eyes for a beat. ”Yeah. Maybe a little, by a.s.sociation.” He blew out a sigh and turning his head, stared at the sweet car he'd been working on.
Which was when she remembered he'd had to quit playing baseball in college to raise Sean.
G.o.d, she was such an idiot.
”You'll have to forfeit?” he asked.
”Yes, but-”
”s.h.i.+t.” He shut the hood of the Chevelle and went hands on hips. ”Tell me you guys are good.”
She crossed her fingers. ”You have to see us to believe it.”
Chapter 13.
#BadNewsBears Not ten minutes into the game, Finn stood behind home plate wearing all of the catcher's gear, staring at the team in complete disbelief.
He'd been recruited by a con artist.
He slid his con artist a look. She was playing first base, looking pretty f.u.c.king adorable in tight, hip-hugging jeans and a siren red tee with a ragged penny jersey over the top of it, heckling the other team.
She was without a doubt, the hottest con artist he'd ever seen.
”You suck,” she yelled to the batter, her hands curved around her mouth.
The batter yelled back, ”How about you suck me?” And then he blew her a kiss.
Finn straightened to kick the guy's a.s.s but the ref pointed to the batter and then gestured he was out.
”On what grounds?” the guy demanded.
”Being an idiot.”
This came from the coach of Pru's team. Jake. He sat at the edge of the dugout, baseball cap on backward, dark lenses, fierce frown . . . a bada.s.s in a wheelchair.
With Thor in his lap.
Finn waited for the ump to give Jake a T and kick him out of the game but it didn't happen. Instead, the hitter took one look at Jake, kicked the dirt, and walked back to his dugout.
The next two batters got base hits and both made it all the way home thanks to the fumbling on the field.
Pru's team was the Bad News Bears.
In the dugout between innings, Pru tried to keep morale up, clapping people on the backs, telling them ”good job” and ”you're looking great out there.”
Her rose-colored gla.s.ses must also be blinders. Because no one had done a good job and no one had looked great out there either.
At the bottom of the next inning, Finn watched his teammates blow through two strikes in two batters.
The third person up to bat was a twenty-something who had her dark hair up in a high ponytail that fell nearly to her a.s.s. She was teeny tiny and had a sweet, shy smile.
Finn did not have high hopes for her. He might have muttered this under his breath. And Pru might have heard him.
She shot him a dark look. ”Positive reinforcement only,” she told him. ”Or you'll have to go dark.”
”Dark?”
”Yeah.” She jabbed a thumb toward Jake, who was on the other side of her, watching the field, expression dialed to irritated as Thor snoozed on in his lap. ”Like Coach Jake,” Pru said and turned to her boss. ”How are we doing tonight?”