The Lucky Charm (The Portland Pioneers) (33 page)

“Good. You’re here.” Toby’s voice was brusque as he swept into his office with the dourness of a thunder cloud.

“As summoned, sir.” She tried to keep the sarcasm out of her voice, but she could still hear the sharp edge of it anyway. Unfortunately, she couldn’t lay the blame for her foul mood or sleepless night at Jack’s door because nobody,
especially
Toby, was supposed to know about Jack.

Toby sat in his big chair and leaned forward across his desk, steepling his fingers while glowering at her.

“We’ve got something big,” he said, and Izzy supposed it was testament to how much she’d come to hate her job that she couldn’t have cared less. Right now, she was too busy being angry at Jack for not living up to his words.

After a moment or two of her silence, Toby gave an exasperated grunt. “You should care about this. This could make us both famous.”

Izzy toyed with the thought of telling him that anything that made him famous wasn’t something she wanted to be a part of, but he was still her boss and she was still the—mostly—dutiful employee.

“Okay,” was all she said.

“Jack Bennett was seen with a woman in Miami.”

This got her attention. Izzy exhaled slowly—slowly enough that maybe Toby wouldn’t sense her sudden tension—and she tried to stay calm. He couldn’t possibly have meant her. Maybe the wig had done its job after all.

“Who?”

The frustration on Toby’s face made it clear he had no idea the woman he was after was in fact sitting in front of him. The bands of panic making it impossible to breathe normally loosened a little.

“Nobody has a picture, only that she was a redhead and gorgeous. And he couldn’t keep his hands off her.”

“I didn’t realize we were in the tabloid business.” Certainty that Toby didn’t know her secret made her a little punchy. Or maybe it was that everything Toby was saying was true. He
hadn’t
been able to keep his hands off her, damn him. He’d said he loved her and all she’d gotten for saying it back were knots in her stomach from wondering if all he loved her for was luck.

“We’re not,” Toby said testily. “But this is big news. Bennett’s the biggest thing in baseball right now and this is big for him. He’s not usually seen with women. Especially not
this
kind of woman.”

Izzy couldn’t help the fantasy of slowly castrating Toby after he’d so casually dismissed Red as some kind of trashy groupie. So she’d worn cheap red hair. That didn’t mean
she
was cheap, and she hated him for saying it.

Of course, if Jack had returned one of her hundred phone calls, Toby’s insinuation wouldn’t have bothered her. She would have been safe and secure in his love and his affection and his loyalty. But he’d made her question and now she couldn’t help but question everything.

They’d waited long enough, but maybe she’d still sold herself too cheaply.

Toby drummed his fingers on the desk. “It’s not a story if we don’t find out who she is. She’ll show up again, especially if my contacts were right.”

“What did they say?” She almost didn’t ask because she wasn’t sure she wanted to know how she and Jack looked to outsiders, but the temptation was too great.

“They were dancing. Laughing. Wrapped up each in other.”

“Oh.” She supposed it made sense that they’d looked so happy together, because they’d
been
so happy together.

“One person even texted me that Jack Bennett was in love. Which was ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous,” Izzy echoed, feeling sick to her stomach.

Toby glared at her obvious disbelief, but he couldn’t possibly understand the real reason for her confusion. “Have you been sleeping through this year? Baseball is the most important thing in Jack Bennett’s life. He’d never lose his mind and compromise that.” He paused, his eyes narrowing. “And here I thought you’d made some study of the man. I can’t believe you missed the one thing that makes him tick.”

Izzy opened her mouth to defend herself, but snapped it shut. It didn’t matter if Toby Palmer thought she did or not; she
knew
him.

Didn’t she?

“I know you. You wouldn’t share this with me unless you needed my help.”

Toby leaned back in his chair and surveyed her speculatively. “You’re a girl. You know how they think.”

Izzy rolled her eyes. “It’s not like we’re a separate species.”

Ignoring her, Toby kept going. “She will show up again, if he does ‘love’ her. The wives talk. Pilar talks. Find out who she is.”

“Pilar Richardson?” Izzy didn’t like playing stupid but it was kind of fun to bait Toby with inane questions, if only to see him seethe at her supposed idiocy.

“Yes, Pilar Richardson,” Toby spat out through compressed lips. “What other Pilar would I be talking about? I know you’re friendly with her. Hector is close to Jack. One of them will know who she is, if she’s important.”

Izzy hated it when Toby was right, even if he didn’t know it. Pilar might not know who Red was, but she definitely knew who Jack was in love with.

“What are you going to do with the story if I bring her to you?” Hell would freeze over before it happened, but Izzy liked to know the score regardless.

“Run it, of course.” Toby shot her another irritated glare. “Jesus, sometimes I wonder how I got talked into you.”

“You didn’t have a choice,” Izzy smiled sweetly while mentally tearing into his jugular.

“Right. No choice.”

“Is that all?” Technically they hadn’t had their weekly meeting, but she could see she’d already pushed him to the edge. That was one way she’d learned to deal with him—annoying him so much that he’d begun to ditch their meetings.

“Make sure Corey Rood is still on the hook. If this doesn’t pan out, I’ll run his story instead.”

“Personally I don’t think one story has much to do with the other.”
Except bad journalism
, Izzy thought.

“Did you forget already? I didn’t hire you to think.” Toby’s smile was almost as poisonously sweet as her own, and she could feel stress churn her stomach to shreds.

Only three months left
, she reminded herself.
Then you can go back to Seattle and sanity.

Izzy left Jack out because she was still pissed as hell, and because she’d suddenly remembered that of the many subjects they’d discussed over the six months they’d known each other, they’d never talked about what would happen when the season ended.

As she left Toby’s office, she glanced down at her phone again, and saw nothing had come in while she’d been meeting with him.

Fresh anger bloomed, and she focused on it because, if she was pissed, then at least she wasn’t hurt.

Her anger lasted through nine innings, in which Jack struck out two more times, and walked once, only to get thrown out reaching at second base.

She ditched the after-game media coverage, not even giving a shit that she’d get a nastygram from Toby later, and went home early. She didn’t even want to meet Jack across a press conference table in front of a bunch of strangers. Her normally even temper had completely evaporated in favor of a towering fury.

Fury lasted another twelve hours or so, throughout another sleepless night, but by the time the sun began to rise over the crest of one of the west hills, Izzy couldn’t help but admit that she was tired of being angry. She just wanted an explanation. A reason. Even better, an apology.

She wanted him tell her that she’d completely misunderstood Noah’s comment.

Against her better judgment, she’d opened up her laptop, ignored Toby’s angry email about her absence from the post-game press conference, and logged onto ESPN to see what Jack had to say for himself.

As the most famous player on the team by far, he’d been dragged into more and more press conferences lately. He’d told her that Hector had apologized, but had explained that the media-relations liaison had made it clear the press wanted to talk to him regardless of what he’d done during the game.

He’d had another bad game, and of course, like the vultures they were, the reporters had picked up on his bad mood and had proceeded to pry.

Unfortunately for them and their column inches, all the reporters had gotten out of Jack were a few clipped clichés.

I need to play better for the team. We need to win games. No, not injured
.

Swearing under her breath, both at the situation and at him, Izzy had pushed the lid closed on her laptop and had looked out the window at the rising sun.

He hadn’t given any answers. She wasn’t any closer to understanding why he wasn’t returning her calls. Or why he’d told her he loved her when he didn’t. She was only around as a convenience, as a lucky bauble to be sucked dry. And now that she was empty, he simply wasn’t interested.

It was the first time she’d actually acknowledged to herself that he must have lied, and just like that, the remaining anger bubbling away insider her vanished, and in the fury’s absence, her heart began to hurt.

Worse than that, she couldn’t seem to stop the tears that threatened. One by one they dripped down, and even as she tried to hate him for confusing her and leaving her and making her cry, she didn’t. She
couldn’t
. Mostly because
she
hadn’t
lied that night in Miami; she loved him.

Izzy had discovered a long time ago that love wasn’t infinite. There were only so many chances and opportunities one had to love and be loved in return. And suddenly, she wasn’t ready to let Jack go quite so easily. She deserved better and it was time she told him that.

“I thought I might find you here.”

Izzy was proud of how calm she sounded. Not angry, or hurt or even confused. Just matter of fact.

The morning sun shone brightly over the winding river below, and if she hadn’t been so focused on the man sitting on the top edge of the wooden bench, his elbows resting on his propped-up knees, she might have noticed how spectacular the dawn was.

But she’d seen the edge of his worn baseball cap in the dim morning glow, and everything in her had ached with love.

He glanced over at her, and a long sigh gusted out of him. “I’m sorry,” he offered lamely. “I’m…”

Somehow, she knew he was searching for the words that could possibly express why he’d been such a dick, but there weren’t any. Some things were too big to explain. She could see from the ravages of another sleepless night on his face that he hadn’t exactly been out celebrating his crap behavior.

“I should have called,” he finally finished. “I should have. I know that.”

She walked around to the front of the bench and gazed at him. If he was going to tell her it was all a lie, he would do it to her face. He would look her in the eye and say it. She deserved nothing less.

“You should have.” It was amazing how calm her voice was when there was so much bubbling up inside—love and hate and fear and longing and agony. She’d never truly understood what it meant to love, and while it hurt like a bitch, it was
real
.

He looked up at her, his eyes as blue as the sky, and she ached. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“You seemed to be doing okay before.”

“I guess you remembered what Foxy said about you being my lucky charm.”

“If you’d listened to any of my messages, you’d know I did. And I think it’s bullshit. You just had an off game. It was only one game, Jack.”

He didn’t say anything in response. Her legs ached with exhaustion and she sank to the bench next to him.

He finally spoke. “I was sitting here, weighing you and baseball.”

“Me and baseball?” Her tone held more derision than she’d intended. “I hardly think you have to choose one or the other.”

“I know.
Logically
, I know that.” He turned to her then, emotion burning in his eyes, so strong that it nearly took her breath away. Okay, so he hadn’t lied. But he hadn’t exactly been honest either, and more than love or reassurance or apologies, what Izzy wanted right now was the truth.