Covering Home (6 page)

She shook her head, moving backward down the corridor. “No, thanks. You’ve done enough.”

He remained at the window for a long time, staring out into the night, her words echoing in his head. She was partly right. Too bad he couldn’t tell her the whole truth … Not that it mattered. Because it was never enough. He was never enough. Going public with his story wouldn’t change his past.

Chapter Six

Britt slid her plastic key card into the lock and yanked it out again.
He had some nerve.
The green light blinked, and she twisted the handle, ramming the door open with her shoulder. He was a fine one to talk about handling fame and being a positive role model. After he’d turned tail and run—all the way to Japan—thank you very much. The door slammed shut behind her, rattling the metal lamp on the desk. Stupid, self-centered jerks. How had this night gone so horribly wrong?

She flipped on the lights and crossed her hotel room, kicking her peep-toe wedges under the chair. Her leather briefcase sat between the bed and the nightstand, right where she’d left it. Unfastening the clasp, she rummaged inside until she found the bag of Peanut Butter M&M’s she’d purchased at the Newark airport. She scooped out a handful and then paced from the bed to the door and back again, popping the candies into her mouth one at a time. The creamy peanut butter, married with the sweet milk chocolate, did little to console her.

It could’ve been much worse. Be grateful he rescued you.

“Whatever,” she muttered, stopping long enough to grab another handful of M&M’s. This was no time for the voice of reason to chime in. She needed to wallow. And garner a little sympathy. Kristi, her sister-in-law, was good at that.

Wait.
Ben had called his girlfriend in Wyoming, and it was the middle of the night. That meant the same was true for California. Kristi might be fabulous, but she wouldn’t appreciate losing sleep to hear Britt’s tale of woe. She’d have to settle for exchanging emails instead.

Britt grabbed her phone and sank onto the queen-size bed. She half-expected to see an angry text from Tyler. But the lone message on the screen was a reminder from Marne about their eight a.m. production meeting. Thank goodness Tyler hadn’t managed to get her new number. Turning back the beige comforter, Britt stacked the pillows against the wood veneer headboard and settled against them. She swiped her finger across the screen and opened her inbox. Ignoring the unread emails waiting for her, she started a new message to Kristi. Her fingers flew over the screen as she typed out a play-by-play of the night’s events.

When she was finished, Britt mindlessly surfed through her social media feeds, but thoughts of Caleb soon interrupted her. She pushed aside the image of those chocolate brown eyes and that cleft in his chin. Stop—enough about that. So what if he had that whole dark, brooding thing going on.
Big deal.
She puffed her cheeks and huffed out a breath, quickly looking through pictures of her sorority sisters at a girls’ weekend in Santa Cruz. A twinge of regret knifed through her, and she tossed her phone on the bed.

What was she doing here, anyway? Dad said this new job was a huge gamble. His unsolicited advice often chafed her. This time maybe he was right.

She hadn’t forgotten the harsh feedback she’d received in Kansas City. If
Covering Home
didn’t nail the ratings, the big wigs at the network had already hinted there were other sideline reporters waiting in the wings to take her coveted seat next to Joe Caswell.

A notification chimed on her phone, and she checked the screen. Britt yelped and sat up straight. Kristi had sent a message already. She devoured the words.

Feeding the baby and reading my email. So nice to hear from you. I’m sorry about that loser Tyler. Someone needs to teach him a thing or two. And who is this mystery man that rescued you? I think I need to know more about him. I’ll tell Lucas you’re doing well. ;-) Chin up, sweet girl. You’re right where you need to be.

Britt smiled. Where would she be without Kristi? Trent thought she was crazy to leave California. Allison relished the role of first-born oldest sister, still talking down to Britt like she was seven and warning her about all the things that could go wrong working for Epic.

But not Kristi. She and Britt had hit it off from the beginning. No matter what—even with four little ones of her own and Lucas’s demanding job in the River Dogs’ front office— Kristi never smothered Britt or questioned her choices.

Getting up, she fished her pad and pen out of her briefcase and reviewed the notes she’d scrawled after batting practice. Caleb made his intentions about shunning the spotlight very clear.

But he’d told her not to care what other people thought and use her fame for good. What did he mean by that? Ben mentioned disadvantaged children. Was Caleb financing any charitable organizations? She cringed at the memory of her snide comment about Mothers Against Drunk Driving. That was a bit of a low blow, especially after he’d gone out of his way to help her.

She sat on the end of the bed, wrote down ‘foundation?’ and underlined it twice. She’d watched him at the Dome today and he appeared to be in top form. It would be different if he was at the end of his career. But what would compel him to battle back from serious injury after the accident and settle for playing in Japan? That was the question that nagged her. Tossing the notebook and pen aside, she fell back on the bed. While she pondered the events of the day, she couldn’t ignore the fact that she’d really enjoyed their conversation at dinner.

No socializing with the athletes, remember?

Past experience had proven that only led to heartache, not to mention jeopardizing her career.

Caleb sat straight up in bed, heart pounding like a freight train and the sweat-dampened sheets wrapped around his torso. The nightmare still tormented him—shattered glass, the sickening crunch of metal collapsing as Amanda’s BMW wrapped around the light pole. At least he woke up before he heard her screaming.

He dragged a hand over his face to wipe away the sleep and get his bearings. That’s right. They were at the Dome.

Tonight was their first game of the series against the Senators and his first outing on the mound. The familiar surge of game-day adrenaline started to churn, chasing away the remnants of that awful dream. He untangled the sheets and then swung his legs over the edge of the bed.
Let’s do this thing.
He picked up his phone and fired off a text to Ben.

Breakfast in 20? Come to my room. I know just the place.

After a quick shower and a shave, Caleb dressed in his standard pre-game attire: royal blue nylon pants, white T-shirt and a royal blue hoodie. He’d don his lucky Phillies cap on his way out the door. It had always served him well, no sense messing with a good thing. Ben hadn’t knocked on the door yet, so Caleb grabbed his stat sheet on the Senators starting line-up and sat down on the bed. Although the batting order might change, he liked to have a good idea what he was up against before he even set foot on the field. Besides, this was Japanese superstar Kentaro Hashimoto’s return to his home field … only this time he wore a Senators uniform. The Dome would be rocking, to say the least.

Three quick raps on the door signaled his brother’s arrival.

Caleb put the stat sheet back in his top dresser drawer and went to the door. He opened it, and found a bleary-eyed Ben waiting on the other side. “Morning, sunshine,” Caleb said. “You look like I feel.”

“Uh-huh,” Ben grumbled, adjusting the bill of his Adidas visor a little lower on his forehead.

“Hungry?” Caleb stepped aside so Ben could enter, and then grabbed his wallet, phone and hat. If they hurried downstairs, the next train would take them to the only traditional American breakfast place Caleb had managed to find since he’d arrived in Japan.

“I could eat.” Ben stretched his arms over his head, yawned and followed Caleb into the hallway.

“I’ve never known you to pass up breakfast.” Caleb closed the door, checked to make sure it was locked, and tipped his head toward the service elevator. “Come on.”

“That’s right. You like the secret agent elevator.”

“I’m a creature of habit, I guess.”

“Well, you may or may not have stepped outside your comfort zone last night.” A mischievous smile played at the corner of Ben’s mouth. “Did you hear?”

Caleb’s chest tightened. “Hear about what?”

“I couldn’t find you last night, so I went up to the top floor to check out the bar. Some of your teammates were there, and I guess they thought I was you. I tried to tell them, but—”

Caleb stopped walking and thrust his arm out, smacking his palm against Ben’s chest. “Hold up. What are you talking about?”

“Let’s just say your new buddies think you do an awesome Karaoke version of ‘Stayin’ Alive’. After a few rounds of Sake, of course.”

No way.
He clenched Ben’s T-shirt in his fist. “I hope you’re kidding me right now.”

Ben held up both hands in self-defense. “Take it easy. No harm done. A case of mistaken identity, that’s all.”

Caleb released his hold on Ben’s shirt and kept walking toward the elevator. “Easy for you to say. You get to go home in four days.”

“Dude,” Ben called after him. “Relax. If anything, I greased the skids a little.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You seem kinda uptight. I’m sure the chicks dig that ‘aloof’ thing, but your teammates—”

“Whatever.” Caleb swiped his card to call the elevator. “I’m not uptight.” He caught Ben trying to subdue a smile behind his hand. Caleb shot him a dirty look. Ben had no business partying with his teammates.

“Really? What would you call it, then?”

“Focused.”

“Focused. Right.”

Ben rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. He always did that when he disagreed. “If you’ve got something to say, say it.”

The bell chimed, indicating the elevator’s arrival and the doors slid open. They stepped in, and Caleb pressed the button for the lobby. Ben scuffed the sole of his tennis shoe on the floor. “I’m sorry. If I’d known you’d be ticked, I would have tried to get out of it.”

Caleb snorted. “Like that would happen.” The Japanese took their Karaoke very seriously. Their contagious enthusiasm was hard to resist. He couldn’t imagine his fun-loving brother passing up a chance to perform.

“See? Then you understand my predicament.” Ben jabbed him in the shoulder with his fist.

Caleb rubbed his shoulder, shaking his head in disbelief. “What am I going to do with you?”

“You could tell me where you went last night. What happened?”

Britt. That’s what happened. “There was a situation after you went to talk to Lisa. I had to, um, intervene.”

“Like perform the Heimlich or something, Mr. Eagle Scout?”

“No, not the Heimlich.” Although that might have been easier. At least he’d practiced that particular maneuver a few times. Dealing with the anger and hurt that flashed across Britt’s face last night was uncharted territory. “Britt got stuck in the elevator with the dude that tried to buy her a drink.”

“Let me guess? You swooped in and saved the day.” A slow smile spread across Ben’s face. “I like the way you operate, bro.”

“Don’t get too excited. It didn’t end well.”

Ben’s smile faded. “Aw, man. You didn’t make her cry, did you?”

The elevator stopped on the ground floor, and the doors opened. A stream of guests flowed through the lobby, towing their luggage toward the front desk. Three young Asian women decked out in Rays sportswear posed near the fountain, smiling at a fourth woman snapping a picture with her phone. One of them spotted Caleb and Ben, gasped and pointed.

“I hope you’re up for a short run. Time for evasive action. C’mon.” Caleb ducked his head and jogged toward the revolving door leading to the train station outside.

“Sheesh.” Ben trotted after him. “It’s a little early for this, isn’t it?”

“It’s never too early when it’s game day.”

The train was easing to a stop outside when they came out of the hotel. Caleb slowed to a walk and pulled his wallet from his pocket. He passed a ticket to Ben and kept one for himself. They fed them into the automated machine and pushed through the metal turnstile onto the platform. The doors opened and they boarded the train, claiming two empty seats together.

Ben turned and faced him. “The running-from-fans trick was a nice diversion. But the gig is up, so spill it. What did you do to Britt?”

Chapter Seven

Britt ramped up the intensity on the treadmill, feeling the burn in her quadriceps as the belt spun faster and elevated to simulate a hill. Pink’s latest hit filtered through the ear buds connected to her phone and she found her stride, shoes pounding out a steady rhythm.

Game day. Her first international event as a sportscaster. If there weren’t a handful of other guests working out in the hotel’s gym with her, she might have let out a whoop of excitement. Instead, she allowed herself a subtle fist pump and mentally reviewed the details from the production meeting.