Back in the Game: A Stardust, Texas Novel (39 page)

Except
everything
had changed. Including her, and she no longer knew where she fit in the world.

On Saturday
afternoon, she sat at the counter reading when she heard the stairs creak. She didn’t look up. Bookstore customers browsed leisurely. If they were looking for something special, they would come ask for it.

The footsteps grew closer.

She turned the page of the book she was reading, a book that had nothing whatsoever to do with either baseball or happy endings. She was done with both of those, at least until her heart mended.

And it would mend. This wasn’t the first time her heart had been ripped apart and stitched back together. Except it was the first time it had been ripped apart by love.

A man cleared his throat. “I need a book.”

At the sound of Rowdy’s voice, Breeanne froze, her eyes glued to the page. “A book about what?” she whispered.

“Do you have any books on how to apologize? A smart woman once told me there’s a book for everything. I came to see if that was true.”

She bit her bottom lip as joy filled her sagging heart, and floated it right up to her throat. She lifted her head, peeked over the rims of her glasses.

He stood before her, holding a bouquet of red roses in one hand, her cheetah scarf in the other. “I’ve never unbroken up with a woman before. I’m not sure how this goes. Are the flowers too obvious?”

“They
are
a cliché. But pretty.”

“You left this at my house.” He held up the scarf. “I brought this with me in case you told me to get bent, and told me that you never wanted to see me again and threw the flowers in my face.”

“I would never treat such lovely flowers so thoughtlessly.”

A look crossed his face as if he’d been kicked in the gut. “Of course you wouldn’t treat flowers the way I treated you because you’re too kind.”

Callie lay on the bookcase just above his head, her tail switching back and forth.

Uh-oh, she recognized the signs. The calico was about to pounce.

“Um, Rowdy—”

“Yes, Breezy?” A hopeful smile edged the corners of his mouth upward.

Callie’s tail went swish, swish, swish, swish, swish.

Uh-oh. She stood up. “You better leave.”

His smile fell to the floor like a heavy boxer had knocked it there. “I know. I’m sorry. I deserve that. I—”

“I mean it, go now, before—”

But it was too late.

Callie dropped from the bookcase like a Serengeti lion falling on an unsuspecting wildebeest. “Rrrowww!”

“Yow!” Rowdy grabbed for his head. The roses, and the scarf, tumbled to the ground. “What’s happening? What’s going on?”

Lightning-quick, Callie sprinted down his back, ran across the store, and scaled the bookcase behind the counter.

Rowdy was swatting at his head as if the cat was still perched there. The calico sat up prettily, wrapped her tail around herself, and gazed at him with regal disdain, as if to say,
Take that for pulverizing my mistress’s heart, you big dope.

He straightened, looked around warily, trying to figure out what had happened.

Breeanne tried not to laugh. Being the victim of one of Callie’s sneak attacks was disconcerting, but she couldn’t help herself. Seeing Mr. Macho Ballplayer brought to his knees, humbled by one cool cat, well . . . it was kind of funny.

“Rowdy,” she said with a flourish of her hand. “Meet Callie. She’s a Hurricane Sandy survivor with PTSD flashbacks and has a tendency to go on the offensive.”

He rubbed his head, eyed Callie.

The calico lifted her nose in the air, looked away from him.

“I think she hates me.”

“Jumping on you doesn’t mean Callie dislikes you. She’s an equal opportunity attack cat. If she’s in a mood, anyone is fair game. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Like you were,” he said, bending over to pick up the roses and her scarf. “When I found out the story had been leaked. You were there, and I was angry—”

“Your anger was justified. I let you down.”

“I could never stay mad at you, Breezy. I was never mad at you in the first place. I was hurt, and for a minute I believed you’d set me up. But I know you would never intentionally hurt someone you love.”

“You were perfectly within your right to say what you did. I was in the wrong. I was responsible for keeping your secret safe, and I didn’t do my job.”

“Your roommate took advantage of you to make a profit. She was the one I should have called on the carpet.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I handled that.”

“Did you?”

“You should have seen her,” Suki called from downstairs. “She kicked ass.”

Breeanne went to the balcony railing. “Mind your own business, Suki.”

“Oh yeah, now that Mr. Handsome’s back, you don’t need my shoulder to cry on.”

“Buzz off.”

“Later.” Suki raised a hand and scooted out of the back of the store.

Breeanne turned back to Rowdy.

“I’ve been watching you on TV. You did a pretty good job of taking Potts down. Kudos.” She gave him thumbs-up. She was trying not to get excited about him showing up, but she couldn’t help it. She
was
excited. He looked so good. Better than ever.

“I would have called, but I felt the apology should be face-to-face. It was a whirlwind in Dallas. I’m still not finished with all the testifying.”

“I imagine it’s going to take a while to clean up the damage.”

“Turns out, my secret getting spilled was the best thing that could have happened. Once I was exposed and took the first hit, it was amazing how other people came clean. I guess deep down, we’re all longing for forgiveness.” His voice was wistful.

“Even the Stephanies and Pottses of the world.”

“I imagine so.”

“Anyway, back to my apology . . .” He pulled her into his arms and she did not resist.

She looked up into his eyes, and found home.

“What I said was unkind. I feel terrible about it. I intend on spending the rest of my days making it up to you.”

“Wh-wh-what do you mean?” she whispered.

“Jackdaw wants an inside story on the Gunslingers scandal and your name came up.”

“I haven’t finished writing the first book.”

“We better get back to work then.”

“Just like before?”

“Well, things might be a little different this time.”

“How’s that?”

“The owner of the Gunslingers offered me a coaching job,” he said.

She sucked in a deep breath. Put her palm to her mouth. “Are you going to take it?”

“Well . . .” he drawled, and leveled her his best come-hither look. “That all depends.”

“On what?”

“He’s trying to ask you to marry him, doofus,” Suki hollered.

In unison, she and Rowdy leaned over the balcony. “Mind your own business, Suki.”

“Hmph,” Suki said. “I’m so underappreciated.”

“Well, now that your sister let the cat out of the bag . . .” Rowdy went down on one knee.

Her breath caught and her poor old pieced-together heart filled with so much love she didn’t know if it could contain it.

“Breeanne Carlyle, would you do me the honor of marrying me?”

She was trembling all over, her body going from hot to cold and back again. “Rowdy, are you sure? I mean you could have any woman in the world. Beautiful women chase after you. I’ve seen it.”

“Hey, you’re the woman I want.”

“But why me? I’m so ordinary.”

“Why you? Other than you’re the most loving, generous person I’ve ever met.”

“Yes.”

“Well, Breeanne, here’s the deal. I’m a superstitious guy. I believe in hope chests that grant wishes, and cheetah scarves that feel scratchy to anyone who is not your soul mate.”

She giggled.

“I believe in Nolan Ryan, and he only sits on the feet of good people. I believe in Dairy Queen dipped cones, skinny-dipping in a magical pond, and I believe that my spaghetti carbonara is just this side of nirvana.”

“It is.” She nodded.

“I believe, like your family, that you should entertain often and invite the whole community. I believe in fair play, Dugan Potts’s disgrace, and the American way of life. I believe that a good screwball is trickier to pull off than a knuckleball, and that baseball should be played for the love of the game and not the almighty dollar. I believe in Fourth of July fireworks, the ‘Star-Spangled Banner,’ the seventh inning stretch, and dot races.”

“Aren’t you getting a little far afield?”

“Hang on, I’m getting there. Breezy, I believe that I was meant for you and that you . . .” He stumbled a little, his voice going thick. “. . . were meant for me.”

“Rowdy.” She breathed.

“Breeanne, I love you. I’ve never said that to another woman that I wasn’t related to. I love you. I love you. I love you.”

“Really?” She could hardly believe it was true. “Because I love you. I love you so much, Rowdy Blanton.”

He got up and swung her into his arms, and kissed her with every ounce of love he had in him. All the love he’d been saving up, just for her. Breeanne melted into him, like dipped cone chocolate.

“Be careful what you wish for,” Suki called up the stairs. “Because you
will
get it.”

“I guess we better not wish for you to go away then,” Breeanne called back. “While you are a pain in the butt, we kind of like having you around.”

“You never did answer the man, Breeanne,” her mother spoke up. “After a speech like that, if you don’t say yes, I will.”

“Hey!” Dad protested.

“Your mother brings up a good point.” Rowdy lifted an eyebrow. “What do you say? Will you marry me?”

“Yes, Rowdy Blanton, I’ll marry you,” she said, and pulled his head down for another long, soulful kiss that promised a lifetime of happiness.

EPILOGUE

I consider myself the luckiest man

on the face of the earth.

—
L
OU
G
EHRIG

The day after Rowdy proposed, Breanne carried the hope chest into the boxcar that served as the front desk at Boxcars and Breakfast
.

Jodi looked up from the computer screen where she was working. “What’s this?”

“All my dreams have come true,” Breeanne said. “I no longer have any need for the hope chest. I thought you could use it.”

“Are you saying I’m hopeless?” Jodi bristled.

“I’m saying it’s time you moved on,” Breeanne said staunchly. “Here’s hope.”

“I have moved on.” Jodi folded her arms over her chest.

“You haven’t had a date since Ryan left you at the altar.”

Jodi’s mouth dove down. “What am I supposed to do with it? There’s no key to open the other locks.”

“You’ll figure it out,” Breeanne said. “But be careful what you wish for because you
will
get it.”

And then she winked and walked away.

A stroke
of the cheetah scarf.

The erotically soft sensation punctuated Rowdy Blanton’s life. Permeated everything. Seeped into his dreams.

From the fateful hope chest, to his fiancée’s slender neck, to the silken tie now manacling his hand to his headboard, a stroke of the cheetah scarf spelled freedom. Freedom from the empty life he’d once mindlessly chased, searching for something he hadn’t known where to find. Freedom from the sins he’d committed, absolved by forgiveness in her understanding eyes. Freedom from the loneliness that had dogged him from the wrong side of the tracks, until he’d found unconditional love in Breeanne’s arms.

Freedom from pain.

How on earth had he ever once believed that loving one woman for the rest of his life would bring him suffering? Valentine’s Day, their wedding day, couldn’t get here fast enough. Six months into their engagement and he’d enjoyed more hot sex and romantic spontaneity than he’d experienced in thirty-three years as a single guy. Why hadn’t anyone ever told him what he was missing?

Um, your married friends tried, remember.
He’d just been too pigheaded to listen.

“Now,” she said with a wicked grin. “To fully celebrate turning in the book.”

“What do you have in mind?” he asked. He was naked in their bed, held happy prisoner by the cheetah scarf, totally exposed. Open. Vulnerable.

And he loved it.

Breeanne, wearing his baseball jersey and a pair of cheetah panties, was straddling his waist. “Guess.”

“Role playing? You’re the Gunslingers super-hot new female pitcher, and I’m your adoring groupie?”

She giggled that adorable sound that never failed to arouse Mr. Johnson. “Nope.”

“You didn’t buy ball gags, did you? Because I’m not sure I’m a fan of the idea—”

She shook her head, her wavy dark blond hair bobbing seductively around her shoulders, and reached for a paper bag on the other side of the bed.

“Don’t tell me. You’ve dipped cone chocolate in there and you’re going to lick it off my body.”

“No, but I like the way you think.”

“All right. I give up. What sexy adventure do you have planned for us tonight?”

She pulled a paperback from the bag.
Love’s Throbbing Fury
, and he started grinning.

“What better way to celebrate finishing writing a book than by reading a book,” she said.

“You’ll make a reader of me yet.”

“Oh, just wait,” she said. “I’ll have you running to the bookstore every Tuesday when the new releases come out.”

She opened the book and started reading. “ ‘Her mouth wrapped around his stiff cock and he could barely breathe, much less think. Around and around she swirled. Up and down. A tantalizing, mind-blowing blend of expert maneuvers that had him wondering how she knew so well the secrets of his body.’ ”

Then Breeanne put down the book and proceeded to act out the paragraph she’d just read, leaving Rowdy gasping for air. He wanted to touch her, wanted to get her naked, wanted to feel her hot, damp skin flush against his, but he was tied to the headboard . . .

And she had other plans.

She read and then acted out each passage, blow by blow, until he was crazed with lust for her. She increased the intensity of her strokes, pushing him closer, ever closer to the edge. He lost all ability to think, to even move from his staked position on the bed. He felt the orgasm building and building and building, hard, hot, and unstoppable.