Blake (Season One: The Ninth Inning #2) (4 page)

I ARRIVE AT the field early, grabbing a bucketful of baseballs before making my way out onto the field. No one knows that if Jack hadn’t been my father, I would have been a pitcher. His genes are in me, without a doubt, because I have his arm. Sometimes, this is my only escape as odd as it might sound.

With my old glove on my hand, a comforting pressure around it, I grab a ball from the bucket and take my place on the mound. My thumb moves over the stitches before I turn the ball in my hand. Taking a deep breath, I briefly close my eyes, shaking the tension from my shoulders. I open my eyes, rear my arm back, raise my knee, and throw the ball right into the strike zone.

I grab another ball. My father’s face appears in my mind as I aim at my invisible target over home plate. He thinks a catcher is the worst position on the team. I hurl the ball across the field, hearing an umpire yelling, “Strike!” in my mind. For an hour, I stand on the mound, grabbing ball after ball, and pitch with all the talent my father possessed, talent that will probably send him to the Hall of Fame.

By the time I’m done, it’s almost time for everyone else to show up. I put everything back in its place to hide that I was ever here. I still have some time to spare, so I decide to walk around aimlessly for a bit.

The door to Sofia’s office is open, and she’s standing inside with her back to me. Might as well aggravate her for a while.

“Hey,” I say, causing her to jump as she swivels around.

Her eyes narrow slightly, but her words are polite as she asks, “Do you need help with something?”

“My knee is still a little sore,” I lie. “Figured it might be good to see you before practice. I think it just needs to be worked out one more time.” For a moment, as I watch her debate in her mind, I wonder if she can say no.

“Fine. Come sit.” She pats the table before going over to her sink to wash her hands. I hop up onto the table and wait. Unlike yesterday, she doesn’t talk to me. I watch her hands work the muscles in my knee, impressed with their strength. “So,” Sofia begins. Looks like she’s going to talk after all. “How come you’re a catcher and not a pitcher? If I was the coach, and I knew you had an arm like that, I’d put you on the mound every chance I got.”

My head snaps up. “What are you talking about?”

Her fingers stop moving as I stare at her, a touch of embarrassment coloring her cheeks pink. “I saw you this morning.” She glances down at my knee and starts massaging it again.

My heart is beating a bit too fast, and my eyes refuse to leave her, though she has changed her focus to her task. Silence is the best response. I don’t have to explain myself to anyone, and I realize I’m angry that she saw me.

“You know, I’m not trying to pry or anything,
but
I’m assuming you’re not a pitcher because of your dad, right?” She doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, and I sure as hell don’t respond. “I kind of know what it’s like being in the shadow of a successful father. If you ever want to talk about it, when you’re not being an ass, I’m a good listener.”

Is that what everyone thinks? That I’m a catcher because I want to build my success away from my dad and his? The thought pisses me off, even though it is part of the reason why. What angers me even more is that she thinks she has any inkling of what it’s like for me.

“Yeah? And just who is your father?”

“Art Gardner.”

I scoff at his name. I’ve heard of him and for some reason, I doubt she has to live in his shadow and I bet his shadows aren’t as dark. I push her hand away and hop off the table, forcing her to back up.

My voice is low as I tell her, “We aren’t alike, Sofia, and we don’t have the same issues with our fathers, I do know that much.” I take a moment to calm myself down. “Thanks for helping my knee.” I head toward the door before I realize I’d forgotten to say one very important thing. “Don’t ever mention that you saw me pitch.” With that, I leave for practice.

“HE’S THE BIGGEST ass on the planet and someone needs to knock him down a notch or two.” I toss a pair of heels into the bag, and then toss in another pair for good measure.

“Well, he seems like he has an ego.” She folds my shirts. “Just forget it.”

I sigh and slam my makeup bag into my suitcase. “I can’t because there’s something going on with him, and I think he needs a friend.”

“He needs a good fuck.”

I gasp. “Harmony!”

She shrugs. “Hey, if I have a bad lay, I’m a bitch for month. You know that.”

I roll my eyes and finish packing for the road games. I’ll be traveling with the team, but I don’t know what to pack. I don’t know if I’ll be able to sightsee or anything. I know I’ll be there for work and taking care of the guys, but I’ll have downtime too. Thankfully, Harmony is the world’s best packer. Being Harmony, you would automatically assume that she took everything and the kitchen sink, but she’s the total opposite.

Once we are done, she drives me to the airport. Since I’m with the team, it’s a different entrance and security is much smoother. When I get on the plane, the first person I see is Mr. Jerk, Blake Foster. I don’t care what Harmony says; that man needs a friend. I tried, but failed at it the other day. Although, when I saw him on the mound pitching, I don’t think I’d ever seen anything so impressive before.

I knew right then why he is a catcher. It’s not the same as my dad and my situation, but I know the similarities. I get looks and probing questions when people find out I’m not part of Gardner Developments or any of his other companies. I know that feeling as if you failed in some sort of way because you didn’t follow into the family business.

I break my connection with his stunning eyes and head toward the back of the plane. I’m one of the few female staff members, but the others are PR employees and I’m not close with them. I put my head back as the rest of the team and staff boards the plane. Once everyone is settled, we take off.

Thankfully, the ride is smooth. I’m not a fan of turbulence. Actually, I’m not a huge fan of flying, but it’s a requirement of my job and the fastest mode of transportation around. I need to get use to it.

After we land, the team loads up on their own bus. I feel someone staring at me as I wait in line for the staff bus. When I turn, I see Blake’s hazel eyes staring right through me.

Yep, he needs to find him a friend, and he needs to stop staring at me especially if he isn’t even going to have a polite conversation with me. He’s really making my blood boil. It’s because he’s an infuriating man and so hard headed. I hope he can figure out whatever it is that’s bothering him.

The team is the first to unload at the hotel, and then we follow suit. I’m given a card key and I head up to my assigned room. I assumed I’d have roommate, but there’s only one bed when I walk in.

“Well, at least I don’t have to share a bathroom,” I say aloud to the empty room.

After I unpack and change into jeans and tennis shoes, I decide to see what’s around the hotel. I haven’t visited Austin, Texas before and I plan to explore a little bit. The sad thing is, there’s not much around the hotel unless you have car. I assume they put the team farther out of the city to be closer to the stadium or because of the fans stalking them. Either way, I head down to the hotel restaurant. I don’t want to stay locked up in my room all evening.

I find a small, two-seat table in a secluded corner. I order a glass of red wine and I’m staring at the menu when someone sits across from me.

Blake Foster.

I sigh and return to my menu. “I’m punched out. If your knee is still hurting, might I suggest a hooker?”

“My knee is fine.”

“Then why are you here, Blake?” I continue to look at the menu and not his beautiful eyes.

“Same reason you are.” He takes the menu from my hand and lays it flat on the table.

“That’s mature. What if I wasn’t finished looking at it?”

“You can still read it, that’s why it’s on the table. Unless reading upside down isn’t something you can do?” He doesn’t look up, continuing to glance over the menu.

“Don’t worry; I just happen to have a number of talents, Blake.”
Stop flirting, Sofia!
I yell at myself and focus on the menu.

“At least I know there is one thing you can do that I can’t. I don’t think there are any talents you could have that would make me worry, though.”

I give him seductive smile when he looks at me. “Are you sure about that, Blakey? I’m pretty bad-ass.” I drop my smile a little bit. I need to stop this before it gets serious. “Well, don’t ask my sister if I’m bad-ass because she’s much better at it,
but
I’m pretty close.”

The corner of his mouth twitches. “I’m sure you are.”

I think for a second on how to change the subject. “Do you usually invite yourself to other people’s table?”

“No, but I figured you wouldn’t mind. What are you going to order? I can’t decide what I want.”

I give up. I know he sat down for a reason, and I decide to be civil and let him go at his pace. “I’m getting the double cheeseburger with extra pickles.”

“Hm. I don’t know if that would be a good choice for me.” He goes back to the menu. “Is your sister older or younger?”

“Older by exactly ten months.” I sip the wine in front of me. “Why don’t you want what I’m having? Are you watching your figure?” I snort at my own lame joke.

“Something like that. I usually go for more veggies on the night before a game, that’s all.”

“Oh, come on,” I roll my eyes.

The waiter comes over and I order my food. Blake orders fish and steamed veggies. When the waiter leaves, I continue teasing him. “Please tell me that you’re not one of those superstitious players. Like, you can only eat green items on Thursday, and only water on Saturday, and don’t pee before the third inning,” I mock in a deep male voice.

Blake covers his mouth and looks away from me. He’s trying not to laugh. When he composes himself, he turns back to me. “I believe in things like that, but don’t really apply them to myself. It has to do more with health than keeping to a routine for good luck.”

“I agree with that.” I nod. “I’m sort of the same way. My dad is very superstitious and I think my mom can be at times, but Dad is much worse. Before big meetings, he has to have steak and a baked potato. I think that’s one reason why he invested in the Chophouse. I don’t know if you eat there, but when Dad bought it, we ate there all the time. Mom finally threatened his life if we went back.” I can feel my cheeks redden as I tell him intimate secrets of my parents without meaning to. “Sorry, I’m rambling. I’m used to talking to my sister and we’re very talkative together. I’m sure I’m boring you. What about you? Do you have siblings?” I turn the attention on him.

“No siblings. You’re not boring me either. I’d rather hear you ramble than listen to Hector go on and on about something while calling me Grumpy.”

I gasp at the name. “That is the perfect name for you.” I try not to smile because he’s glaring at me, and I begin to talk more about me. “Harmony and I are like twins. Well, everyone assumes we’re twins. She works with my dad, and we live together. It’s kind of hard being away from them. I mean, our whole family generally vacations together and they don’t travel without at least one of us being there. Did you travel a lot with your dad when he played?”

“What’s it like living with her? What is she like?” He completely ignores my question, and I realize he doesn’t want to talk about him.

“She’s terribly messy and likes having sex with guys in every part of the house, but I’m used to that. However, she’s extremely honest and hardworking. Harmony is my best friend, and I can’t imagine what my life would be like without her.” Good grief, I’m telling him everything about my family.

“After hearing that, I’m even more grateful I live alone. It’s good to have a best friend though.”

Our food comes, and the waiter refills our glasses. I thank him and receive a strange look from Blake. Hasn’t he ever thanked someone before? We begin to eat in silence for a couple minutes and I’m going to take a chance on getting him to open up.

“I know I’m talking your ear off right now, but I could be your friend. I’m a really good listener and everyone needs someone to vent to.” I pause as I wait for his reaction. He keeps picking at his food. “Look, I’m going to say it. You seem very angry, and that’s not good for you, your health, or the people around you. I’ll listen, and I give you my word that I won’t share that with anyone. I swear.” He lifts his head. His lips are shut tightly, forming a thin, angry line. He really hates when the attention is on him. Maybe I should try a different approach. “So, where did you go to college?”