All Your Loving (Bachelors & Bridesmaids) (11 page)

Chapter Eight

Being careful probably didn't include going to the Cougars stadium on Wednesday afternoon with a reporter who wanted to interview Matt. Julie had managed to book the interview through text and emails, but Matt had told her he wouldn't do the piece at all if she didn't come along. So here she was—standing in the first row of seats watching Matt take batting practice while she waited for the reporter to show up.

Being in the ballpark during practice was unsettling on a lot of levels. The memories of the days she'd spent watching her dad step into the batter's box washed over her. When she was a little girl, she'd often gone to the park with him before a game. Back then she'd loved the sport. She'd enjoyed watching the hitters, tracking the game, studying batting averages and reading scouting reports. In fact, those were the times where she'd felt the closest to her dad.

It had really been just the two of them on those occasions. When she was in middle school, she'd gone to almost every home game. She'd tag along with her dad to the ballpark to watch practice. Sitting in the stands those sunny afternoons, the smells of hot dogs, garlic fries and peanuts wafting in the air, had been really, really fun.

Her mother had never loved coming to the ballpark or studying the intricacies of the sport. It was just what her husband did—not what he loved, or what she loved.

Funny, Julie hadn't realized that until just now.

Memories of being at the ballpark with her father coupled with what her mother had told her on Monday night, not to mention the unopened envelope that still sat on her coffee table, had her feeling completely off her game. It was as if time was spinning her around, showing her the past, then the present, even giving her a glimpse of the future, but it was all somehow tied to baseball.

She told herself to stay in the moment and stop getting so tied up in things that had happened years ago.

Focusing on Matt, she watched him hit for a good five minutes. He really was pretty amazing, she thought, helplessly drawn to everything about him. In the batter's box, he was aggressive and powerful. That was evident in his stance, in every swing of the bat. He also had a laser focus that allowed him to see the smallest movement of a baseball moving towards him at close to a hundred miles an hour.

He could adjust for the slower pitches, too, when the ball moved a lot slower, curving deceptively, starting out high and ending up at his ankles. Matt sent numerous balls soaring out to each field with line drives and hard-hit grounders mixed in with the occasional long ball to the fence.

Matt was one of the Cougars' top hitters, if not the top hitter, but more important than his overall average was his ability to hit in the clutch, when it counted, when it was two outs, bottom of the ninth, the game on the line. There was no one else the Cougars would rather have up than Matt Kingsley.

But Matt didn't seem as impressed with himself as the coaches surrounding the backstop behind the plate. He stopped to adjust his stance. He took off his helmet and wiped some sweat off his forehead and then took another swing. The ball dribbled toward the pitcher. Matt hit his bat on the ground and muttered something that sounded like a lot of swear words strung together. His coach came out and said something to him, and then he started hitting again.

She was beginning to see what he'd meant when he'd told her he had a hitch in his swing. It was an almost imperceptible lift of his right shoulder right before he struck the ball. She leaned forward, resting her arms on the rail in front of her as she focused on the movement of his body when his bat made contact with the ball. Pushing her sunglasses on top of her head, she gave herself a clearer line of vision. It was definitely there, she realized, noting when he hit a good ball and when he didn't.

Surely his coaches could see it. They were standing right behind him, although they didn't seem to be paying much attention now. They were talking to each other and one of them was motioning toward the dugout for the next hitter to step up.

"Julie Michaels?" a man said, interrupting her.

She turned her head to see a young man in his early thirties. "Yes?"

"I'm Dan Stern, SF Daily News."

"Of course." She shook his hand. "Mr. Kingsley is almost done, I think."

"Great."

"Can I give you any background information on the Celebrity Cook-Off while we wait for Mr. Kingsley to finish?"

"I've got all the details," Dan said, his attention on the field. "I've never been here unless there was an actual game going on. It's cool."

She inwardly sighed, having a feeling this interview was going to focus more on Matt and baseball than the fundraiser, but what could she do? She had to let it play out, and as long as the Foundation got a mention, it was better than nothing.

"I'm going to take a few shots of Matt hitting," Dan said, moving a few feet away to get a better view of Matt in the batter's box. Several moments later, he came back to join her. "He really drives the ball, doesn't he?"

"I guess that's why he's one of the best."

"How did you get him for your fundraiser?"

"I was very persuasive," she said, happy to see Matt making his way over to join them. As he came into the stands, he gave her a potent smile, his green eyes sparkling with pleasure. It was as if something secret, something intimate passed between them. Or maybe that was just her imagination.

She tried not to let her gaze or her smile linger. She was very aware of the nearby reporter, and the last thing she wanted was to start any rumors or distract the reporter from writing about the fundraiser. She introduced the two men and added a few sentences to start the conversation, then let Dan take over.

Matt handled the interview like the pro he was. He was friendly, concise and he made an effort to bring the interview back to the cook-off whenever Dan started getting too baseball-oriented in his questions. Twenty minutes later, a few more photographs taken, and the interview was wrapped. Dan told them he'd be in touch.

"That wasn't too painful," Matt said when they were alone.

"You made it easy. You knew exactly what he wanted, what I wanted, and you gave it to him."

"It's nice to know I can give you what you want some of the time."

"I do appreciate what you're doing for the Foundation."

"And I'm glad about that, but we both know that I'm doing a lot of it for you."

Goosebumps ran down her arms at the purposeful look in his eyes. "Well, whatever your reason, I'm grateful."

"Good. That should make my next question easier."

"What's your next question?" she asked warily.

"I want to take you to dinner."

"It's only four-thirty."

"Well, I didn't mean we were going to eat right this second. The place I have in mind is a bit of a drive. But I think you'll like it."

"There are a lot of restaurants about five minutes away," she said, feeling more than a little tempted to say yes to his invitation despite her intention to stay away from him. On the other hand, going back to work didn't really appeal, nor did going home hold much interest, because then she'd be faced with that unopened envelope filled with her father's letters.

"Just say yes," Matt told her.

She stared back at him. "Okay, yes."

He smiled with satisfaction. "Great. I'm going to change. I'll meet you by the car in twenty minutes?"

"All right."

He paused. "Don't change your mind, Julie."

"I won't. Like you, Matt, if I say I'm going to do something, I do it."

"Good."

As Matt left, an older man walked toward her. She knew that weathered, lined face and those cheerful brown eyes. They belonged to Dale Howard, the General Manager of the Cougars and one of her father's best friends.

"Is it you, Julie?"

She blew out a breath. "Mr. Howard."

"Oh come on now, call me Dale. You're all grown up."

"I am."

"It's great to see you. You're working with the charity Matt is supporting this month?"

She nodded. "We just finished an interview."

"I saw that. I couldn't believe it was you."

The last thing she wanted to do was talk to Dale, but she was a grown-up now, as he'd just reminded her, and she had to stop running away from things and people that reminded her of the past. "It's me."

"I want to apologize. I saw your name on my callback list a few days ago, but I had to go out of town. My daughter just had a baby."

She remembered Lucy Howard. They'd hung out together when they were twelve and thirteen. "Is it her first child?"

"Second. She got married right out of college. They live in Maine. She and her husband run an Inn up there."

"That sounds like a lovely life."

"It's a beautiful place, a long way from here though. Molly and I miss her all the time," he added, referring to his wife. "How's your mother?"

"She's good. She got remarried a few months ago."

"Well, that is excellent news. I know she had a hard time with things." His smile faded. "I didn't want to take sides, but your mom wouldn't talk to any of us once she and Jack split up. It was sad. I felt bad for her and for you."

"It was a long time ago," she said, starting to actually feel like it was a long time ago. Even though the past had popped back up in full glory in the past week, revisiting it had somehow made it seem less dramatic and painful than she'd thought. Or maybe it was just that she was starting to remember some of the good moments, too.

"So you're working in San Francisco now?"

"Yes, and I love what I do."

"Well, I know I wasn't responsive before, but if you need anything in the future, you let me know, and I'll try to help you out if I can," he said.

"That's great. We fund a lot of good causes. Your support would always make a difference. In fact, we still have some tickets left for the Celebrity Cook-Off. Wouldn't you like to see Matt in action in the kitchen?"

Dale laughed. "Now that does sound too good to pass up. Can you leave the details with my assistant?"

"Absolutely. Maybe you can bring Molly."

"She'll love it. She's a big fan of those cooking shows on television. And now that it's just the two of us, she's always trying out crazy recipes on me."

Dale's words reminded her that he'd managed to stay married to his wife for at least thirty years, and he'd been a player before moving into management some twenty years ago. Then again, there was always an exception to prove every rule.

"You speak to your dad at all?" Dale asked, a cautious note in his voice.

"No, I don't," she said honestly.

"I know he'd like to hear from you."

"Well, there was a time I would have liked to hear from him," she returned.

"I know he hurt you and your mom. He made some big mistakes."

"I don’t really want to talk about him."

"I understand. Well, if it won't bother your mother to hear my name, tell her that Molly and I think of her often."

"I will," she promised, thinking that her mother might actually be okay with hearing about Molly and Dale now. Since she'd found love again and had her own personal psychologist helping her to rebuild her life, she'd definitely changed and softened. It was as if love had chipped away at the wall of hate her mother had built up.

Had she built the same wall?

She had a feeling the answer was yes.

After saying goodbye to Dale, she walked out to the parking lot and waited for Matt. As usual, there were groupies around the player's entrance, but she knew now that Matt had another way out and eventually he would make his way to his car. She'd parked a few spots away, so she leaned against her car and waited. As she did so, she sent an email to Dale's assistant with the ticket information for the cook-off. He might have just been trying to be nice, but every ticket sale counted.

She had just sent the email when Matt walked out to join her. He'd obviously taken a quick shower. His brown hair was still damp, and his face was cleanly shaven. There was a nice musky scent clinging to him, too, which only made him that much more irresistible. He stopped in front of her. "We can take my car and get yours on the way back."

"They won't close the parking lot?"

"No, it will be fine."

"Okay."

She followed him to his car and slid into the passenger seat. Matt tossed a duffel bag in the back and then got behind the wheel.

"I saw Dale Howard heading your way," Matt said as he started the car. "How was that conversation?"

"It was fine. I'm sure you know that he and my father were good friends. Our families did a lot together when I was younger. I was pretty good friends with his daughter Lucy, too. I guess she just had a baby. Time really flies. Last time I saw her she was about fifteen. Now she is married with children."

"Lucy is a great girl. Her father is also a good guy, and he has an astute eye for talent."

"Because he picked you?"