Playing Catch: A Baseball Romance (17 page)

T
he evening chill
descended over the desert after the setting of the sun. Giant saguaro cacti stood like silent sentinels against the darkening sky.

Jeanine drove through the classic wooden ranch gate consisting of two poles and a bar across the top. A tumbleweed bounced along with swirls of dust across her path, and a wood-burned sign with the words “Trail’s End” dangled crookedly.

Gravel crunched under Jeanine’s BMW tires as she made her way slowly up a rutted road. The place seemed abandoned, not at all like the bucolic images of cabins, lodges, fireplaces, and hoedown barn on the brochure.

Was this even the right place? Jeanine checked her cell phone and couldn’t get a signal. She had no choice but to follow the signs to the “office.”

It was situated in a weathered clapboard building. She stepped onto the creaky porch and rang the bell.

A sliver of light shone under the doorway and a man dressed in overalls answered the door. His straw hat was full of holes and one of his eyes was unfocused—a glass eye.

“Howdy, you must be Miss Jewell,” the man said. “Dr. Sparks sends all her patients here.”

“Yes, I came for the Trauma and PTSD unit.” Jeanine dug her printed itinerary from her purse.

“That’s strange,” the man said, flipping through a clipboard. “The doctor has you in the Love and Sex Addiction program.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m neither in love nor have a sex addiction.” Jeanine bit off each word and spit it out at him. Heck, she hadn’t had sex in so many weeks she’d lost track.

The man couldn’t keep the leer out of his one good eye. “Here’s your welcome packet and the key to your cabin. Enjoy your stay.”

Jeanine was about to argue with the droid that she was not in the Sex Addiction program, but she was bone tired, and frankly, it didn’t matter which cabin she slept in.

The ranch boasted private cottages situated within walking distance of the communal dining hall and activities center. Counseling took place either indoors, or while on a trail ride or hike. There was also a spa for relaxation and massages as well as a sweat lodge and sauna. It was definitely not a rehab clinic where patrons were monitored and regimented, but more of an upscale vacation resort that included activities for healing and recovery—just what Jeanine needed.

She took the welcome packet and key from the receptionist. “How late is the dining room open?”

“Midnight. You could call for room service too, although there’s a five dollar service charge. If I were you, I’d walk over to the bar near the dining room and carry out.”

“There’s a bar here? I thought this place treated alcohol addiction.”

“Everything at the bar is virgin except for the pretty women.” The man chuckled at his own joke. “Enjoy your stay, and if you need anything, just give me a holler.”

Jeanine didn’t bother thanking him, lest she encouraged the old windbag. She stomped to the screen door and let it slap on her way out. As if she cared about a five dollar service charge.

The cabins were laid out at the edge of the forest along a small, babbling creek. Arizona had been soaked the previous winter due to the strong El Niño weather effect and the forest teemed with alder and cottonwood trees as well as a healthy understory of shrubs and grasses.

Crickets chirped as Jeanine unpacked her car. She hooked a duffle bag over her shoulder and dragged her large rolling suitcase. The air at this altitude was cool and fragrant with the woodsy scent of trees and fresh water. A full moon shone overhead and a gentle breeze stirred her hair, relaxing her after the long drive.

A few of the cabins across the corral were occupied, and cars were scattered around the fence. She located her cabin on the map, and headed down the flagstone path. The small wheels of her suitcase got stuck every so often, but she was in too good of a mood to let that bother her. She couldn’t wait to take a long, hot shower and fall asleep to the sounds of crickets and the creek.

By the time she maneuvered her misbehaving suitcase up the porch steps, she was damp with a light sweat. She opened the screen door, and as soon as she unlocked the door, it opened.

Jeanine jumped back and gasped. A man stood just inside the darkened cabin.

“Is this cabin 3A?” she asked.

“How was your drive, Jeanine?” Kirk stepped out of the shadows and into the light of the porch. “Come on in.”

“Wait. This is my cabin. What are you doing here?” Just seeing Kirk did all sorts of numbers to her blood pressure, nervous system and especially her heart. No matter what anyone said about him, she was sunk where he was concerned. He took her breath away, made her knees weak and everything blossom and tingle inside.

He was her hero.

“Something I should have done long ago.” He lifted her suitcase and took it inside. “Spend time alone with you without any distractions.”

Oh, how those words rubbed salve over her wounded ego. He wanted her, still, after everything that had happened.

She noticed the limp as he walked into the cabin. His left leg was stiff and he didn’t bend it. He was wearing sweatpants, so she assumed his leg was swollen.

“How’s your leg? How long will it take to heal?”

He took off his baseball cap and wiped his forehead. “It all depends. The bullet passed through so I don’t have any fragments. It missed the bone and major nerves. Hit an artery, but not the main femoral artery. They repaired it and now it’s a matter of growing back the flesh that was taken out and making sure I don’t get an infection.”

“Will you be back to playing condition?”

He lowered his gaze to her boots. “Not anytime soon, but I’m not giving up. I’m going back as soon as the team okays it, although this season’s probably shot, if you’ll excuse the pun.”

“It’s my fault. I’m so sorry.” Jeanine held her fist in front of her mouth, unable to enter the cabin and get close to him, despite her warring feelings. “I ruined your life.”

“You saved my life.” He shuffled toward her. “Come in and close the door. It’s drafty and I’ve got a fire going.”

The emotions sweeping through her hit her like a tidal wave. Why argue who saved whose life? He’d saved hers by jumping in front of George, and she’d saved his by stemming his blood flow.

She took two steps and lowered her duffle bag to the ground. The cabin was small and rustic. A hot fire crackled in the stone fireplace and the room was dark except for the light of the fire. No wonder she’d thought the cabin unoccupied.

Kirk shut the door behind her and turned her to face him. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay.”

“Just fine, perfect. Everything going great.” He mocked her. “Come on, babe. Tell me how you really feel.”

“I don’t know why you’re here, and I’m too tired to deal with everything. You betrayed me—you and your brother. Set me up with those letters. Tina let your brother and Simpson into my apartment.”

“She what?” Kirk grabbed Jeanine’s arm. “I get that you think I was behind the deal with the letters and I have to explain. But how could Tina do that to you? As for my brother, I’m not surprised. He’d do anything to please my mother, and my mother has her own issues.”

His touch was strong and magnetic, and he always had that effect on her, of making her want to fold into him, but she stood stiff and glared at him, strengthening herself for the conversation they had to have. “You’re standing there blaming everyone but yourself. You had those letters. Explain that.”

“My mother sent them to me. She wanted me to give them to you, but I read them, instead.”

“You had no right to read them.”

“Guilty as charged.” He moved his hand up her arm to her shoulder, and an electric charge sizzled between them. “Come, let’s sit in front of the fire.”

He hobbled toward a lodge pole pine loveseat covered with a Navajo print and a fluffy faux fur throw blanket. It looked so inviting after her day, and even though Kirk had a lot to answer for, she couldn’t resist sinking into the soft cushions. She removed her boots and curled her feet up under her legs and leaned on the armrest away from Kirk, who gingerly lowered himself onto the loveseat. He took up so much room, he crowded her with his heat and wrapped her in his woodsy scent.

“Shouldn’t you be close to a hospital in case anything goes wrong with your leg?” She resisted reaching out to touch him.

“There’s a doctor on staff here, among all the shrinks. Thanks for your concern.”

“I feel responsible.” Her throat stiffened and she tried to clear it. “I don’t know why you involved yourself in my mess.”

He propped his arm on the back of the loveseat, but didn’t touch her. “I told you already. I care about you, but I was completely in the dark about the abuse you endured or your connection to my former coach. You have to believe me. My mother’s a drama queen, and my brother’s so busy trying to get her approval, he’d do anything. I had no idea you were the one who sent Simpson to jail. I was told it was one of his students, and since you were a minor, no one mentioned your name. There was no way I could have made the connection. My mother likes to star in her own dramatic soap opera, and believe me, she does a lot just for attention and to keep from being bored.”

“But you figured it out, about me.”

“I figured out that you were abused by a master manipulator. Just didn’t know it was Coach Simpson. He made you believe you wanted it, that you were in love with him, and that you owed him everything. Heck, he most likely manipulated my father into defending him, and my mother and brother into helping him. My father always wanted me to be a professional baseball player. He looked at Simpson as the lifeline for me into the pros. My mother, well, she likes to stir the pot, so she asked me to pass them to you. I had to admit I was curious when she mentioned love letters to Jeanine Jewell. I thought they came from another baseball player. My brother’s a scout, so I thought I had competition. It wasn’t until I read the letters that I realized something was very wrong, especially the one about your sixteenth birthday.”

Jeanine shuddered at the memory of that day. She’d been disappointed about not getting a car. She’d earned it, posing for him, and he’d dangled it in front of her. With a car, she would have been able to drive away and make her escape. She’d saved up her lunch money and sold drinks to her friends, courtesy of her foster mother’s well-stocked bar, and stashed the cash in her school locker. But in typical George Simpson fashion, he’d baited and switched, giving her a cubic zirconium “engagement” ring instead and made her wear it.

Bitterness flooded her mouth as she drilled Kirk with her glare. “What did you feel about Simpson before you knew what he’d done?”

“I admired him. He was the best coach. He was in the big leagues until he retired, and a baseball legend in his time. None of us believed he was capable of what the state accused him of doing. We thought he took the fall because of school politics and that he’d gotten into an incriminating looking situation when a student forced a kiss on him while her friend videoed it. She supposedly tried to blackmail him for a grade, and faked a series of love letters to ‘prove’ their involvement. I believed him when he looked me in the eye and told me he didn’t want to hurt the girl’s reputation any further by facing trial, and at the time, I was sickened for him and thought he was too noble for his own good.”

“Exactly the type of man he tried to portray, an upstanding citizen, a teacher and coach,” Jeanine said. “He was always the charmer on the outside, looking like the perfect foster father, talking about keeping his ‘daughters’ safe and empowering them to excel in school. Now that you know, what do you think about him?”

“Utter disgust. He’s the devil himself. I couldn’t stop punching his face. I would have killed him if you hadn’t stopped me.”

“I wasn’t stopping you for his sake, you were bleeding and in shock.” Jeanine lowered her voice and rubbed her hand through the throw lying on the armrest. “What do you think about me? Why didn’t you call or text me afterward?”

“I wanted to.” He made his move and embraced her. “But I was dealing with my wounds, and not being able to play baseball, at least for this season.”

“I’m so sorry.” She pressed a hand on his chest, bracing herself as his heart beat strongly beneath her palm.

Those eyes of his darkened, the hunger in them evident. “So am I, but it would be worth it all if I won your heart.”

“How can you say that? It’s not a fair exchange.” She was all too aware of succumbing to him—his magnetism pulling her to him, along with his charm, his soothing words, and the romantic atmosphere in front of the gently cracking fire.

“It’s what I want.” He tipped her chin and caressed her cheek. “I was drawn to you the moment I met you in that hotel hallway. At first, I was curious, and then we became friends. I sensed something was off about you, but I admired your strength and your heart of gold—caring for others like Tina and Marcia. I was determined to know you, to find out about you, and when I suspected you had issues, I wanted you to get help.”

“Am I a project for you? Did you have an ulterior motive?”

His grin split his rugged face, and sparkles danced in his eyes from the light of the fire. “Oh, yes. My project is to get you to open up to me, and my ulterior motive is to make you mine.”

He leaned over her and took her mouth, kissing her in a slow, languorous manner, as if he had all the time in the world to stake his claim over her heart.

She couldn’t blame him for staying away after the shooting. After all, he had to mourn his career and tend to his wounds. But he was here, ambushing her at the cabin, and he wanted her—still, knowing how damaged she was.

Hope flickered in her chest as she absorbed the sacrifice Kirk had made. His career for her heart. If only it hadn’t been such a harsh choice. If only she were truly worth it. But what had happened couldn’t be undone, and heck, if he wanted her heart, she’d try to open it up to him, no matter how hard it would be to give up control.

It was what she wanted too. And tonight, there would be no more barriers.