Strike Out: Mustangs Baseball #6 (19 page)

She’d been stupid to think there was anything between them. He’d never said he loved her, so she couldn’t expect him to suddenly declare his undying devotion to the world.

“I didn’t do anything….” She cut herself off before the words,
but love you
, spilled out. “You worked it out on your own.”

“We both know what really happened, and I’m grateful. I just wanted you to know I’ll never forget what you did for me.”

Grateful.
The word would have been a validation coming from anyone else, but from Royce, it made her feel cheap. The doorbell sounded, and they both looked in the direction of the living room.

“That was fast.” Tricia assessed the shirt she still held. A basic pullover style, it would do for now. She yanked it off the hanger. “Tell them I’ll be out in a minute.”

Instead of taking the hint, he took another step inside the closet. “I looked for you after the game. Why did you leave?”

She almost choked on the hysterical laughter trying to bubble out of her throat. Of all the things she thought he would say, she never thought he would lie to her. “I don’t want to talk about it. Not now, not ever.”

His gaze raked over her face, searching for a crack in her armor, she supposed. He must not have found what he was looking for because he took a step back.

With a silent nod, he exited the closet. Once she heard the bedroom door open and close, she grabbed for the clothes rod to steady herself. Her knees were weak, and her heart was racing. How many times could a heart be trampled on before it broke beyond repair?

Fuck!
Royce pasted on a smile for the newcomer. He’d just left the woman he loved standing half naked in a closet for no good reason he could think of. As Tony introduced him to his wife, Royce went over all the ways he’d messed up with Tricia. The list seemed endless, but at the top was the fact he hadn’t told her he loved her.

He’d had every intention of saying the words to her a minute ago, but her cold reception had iced that idea. Besides, a woman deserved better than to hear those words spoken for the first time in a cluttered closet while strangers occupied her living room. Still, the words had nearly burned his lips, wanting to be out in the open.

While Tony and Clare enjoyed a sappy reunion he wouldn’t have thought possible for the Mustangs’ burly center fielder, Royce rummaged around in Tricia’s kitchen. He found another coffee mug in the cabinet nearest the sink. After filling it for Tony’s wife, he slid it across the counter. “Coffee, Clare?”

“Thanks.” The couple broke apart. Tony brought his mug to the kitchen for a refill while his wife sipped from her cup. “Nice game the other day.”

“You watched?” He refilled his and Tony’s mugs then leaned against the far counter, coffee in hand.

“I watch every game. I even DVR the ones I have to miss and watch them later.”

“You must have been crazy when you saw Tony get hurt.”

Her expression grew serious. “Crazy doesn’t even come close. If I could have leapt through the television set to be with him, I would have.” She snuggled up close to her husband’s uninjured side. He slid his good arm around her waist, pulling her closer. “I hope Dr. Reed can help him. The game means so much to him.”

“You think she can?” The hope in his teammate’s voice was evident.

“Maybe.” He’d been debating with himself all the way from Seattle over what, if anything, he should tell Tony about how Tricia had helped him. “Off the record?”

They both nodded, and Royce continued. “Without her, I wouldn’t be back in the game. She’ll tell you she didn’t do anything, but she isn’t being entirely truthful. The data she collected played a huge part in my comeback. However, there are aspects, details that will remain private. I don’t know if she can help you, but I believe in her work. I think it has enormous potential.”

“I knew you were hiding something, Strikeout.”

“Only to protect her. Her work is important. It doesn’t deserve to be ridiculed because of what happened between us.”

“I figured out you guys were in love with each other a long time ago. I can see how a personal relationship might compromise her research. That being said, I’m not a scientific scholar. I don’t give a flying fuck about propriety or conflict of interest. I just need to fix my arm, and fast. The lady doctor can be as inappropriate with me as she needs to be as long as it helps get me back on the field.”

“Hey!” Clare gave her husband a playful punch in the gut. “All inappropriate behavior gets cleared through me. Okay?”

Tony’s smile for his wife was tender. “Always, my queen. Always.”

Tricia’s reemergence from the bedroom spared Royce from witnessing another PDA from the loving couple.

“Good morning.” Tricia scooted past the entwined couple to join Royce in the kitchen. Introductions were made then she refilled her coffee mug and took a sip. She was sunshine fresh in white denim jean shorts and the yellow top she’d been clutching to her chest when he walked in on her. Her hair was in a clip at her nape and her feet were bare. He wrapped his hands tight around his coffee mug to keep from touching her. He seriously doubted Mr. and Mrs. Ramirez would mind if he fucked Tricia on the kitchen counter in front of them, given the stories he’d heard about the couple, but he couldn’t say the same for Tricia.

“What a lovely necklace.” Tricia went up on tiptoe and leaned across the counter to admire the gold and diamond bauble around Clare’s neck.

Royce went hard as stone at the sight of Tricia’s ass pointed in his direction.

“It’s very special to me,” the other woman said. “I’m never without it.”

“I’ve never seen anything like it. Where did you get it?”

He had to do something to get Tricia off the subject of Clare’s necklace. If the rumors he’d heard were true, that was a conversation he didn’t want to be a part of. Royce opened the refrigerator and peered inside. “You have anything to eat in here? I’m starving.”

Tricia turned to look at him. “Not much. Eggs. Bread. Cheese. Basics.”

“Anyone want breakfast?”

“Yes.” All three answered in unison.

Royce chuckled. “Why don’t we try the chorus again? I think a couple of you were off key.”

“Shut the fuck up and cook, Strikeout. We haven’t got all day, and Dr. Reed needs to take a look at my arm.”

“Okay, okay. But no complaints.” He pulled the egg tray out and set it on the counter.

“I can help,” Clare said.

He was grateful for Clare’s offer since he knew less than nothing about cooking. He’d learned enough by trial and error to get by since Hannah left him, but no one would call him a chef. Tony’s wife took charge, assigning him easy tasks that allowed him to keep an eye on the other couple. Tony had stripped off his shirt, and Tricia was busy applying the wired electrodes to his upper body.

He snuck a glance at the woman beside him. She was busy stirring the scrambled eggs and didn’t seem in the least bit fazed by what was going on in the other room. He wished he could be as calm. For Tricia, the procedure was nothing more than a science experiment, but Royce’s gut twisted at the sight of her hands on another man.

The woman had brought him back to life in more ways than one, and he was going to win her over, some way, somehow.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Tricia focused on the man in front of her. What had occurred between her and Royce was best forgotten. She had to admit, it meant a lot he hadn’t discouraged Tony from coming to her for help. He’d said he believed her work played a part in his recovery. Just because he couldn’t tell the world how she’d helped him didn’t mean he wasn’t sincere.

She attached the last wire then plugged the ends into the box that would translate the electrical impulses into quantifiable data. Turning to her subject, she waved a hand at the box. “All set.”

Tony held his right forearm cradled to his chest, supporting his injured limb without the sling he’d been wearing when he arrived.

“This is going to be painful, but can you let your arm hang naturally to your side?”

A light sheen of sweat coated Tony’s face by the time she had put him through the same routine she’d used to gather his baseline data.

“I’ve got enough for now,” she said, disconnecting the wires from the box. She helped him put the sling back on, leaving the electrodes attached for the time being. “Let’s eat. Afterward, I’ll take a look at the data, make sure I have good readings. If so, then you can go. It’ll take me a while to run the comparisons.”

Clare insisted on cleaning the kitchen before she and Tony left for his appointment with the medical staff at the stadium. Tricia thanked the woman then got to work on the new data sets. She was so absorbed in her analysis she didn’t look up until she heard her front door close. She blinked to refocus her eyes. Everyone had gone except Royce.

“Aren’t you going with them?”

“No. I said I’d stay behind. If you find anything, Tony wants you to bring it over to the stadium. With everyone still out of town, security wouldn’t let you in by yourself.”

He was right. Her pass was only good when the team was in town. If she wanted in the stadium, she’d need him to escort her in. “Thanks. You’ve got to be tired. Why don’t you go home, get some rest? I’ll call if I need you…I mean, if I want to go to the stadium.”

Much to her dismay, the man kicked off his shoes and stretched out on her sofa. “No car. We took a limo from the airport.”

“My keys are on the table by the door. I won’t be going anywhere.” Having him this close, being alone with him was wreaking havoc with her body systems. She didn’t have time to deal with any of the malfunctions going on. Not the ache to have him inside her. Not the pain of knowing he would never be hers. Not the hollow feeling where her heart was supposed to be. Not the eat-gallons-of-ice cream despair weighing her down.

“I didn’t get much sleep on the plane. None, in fact. Tony complained the whole way. You’ve never experienced pain until you’ve heard about it in three languages. Did you know he speaks Spanish and Italian?” Royce punched one of her throw pillows then rolled to his side facing away from her. “Wake me up when you’re ready to go.”

Not if. When. Did he really have so much confidence in her? That would make exactly one person who did since she was fresh out of the commodity herself.

She opened her mouth to say he might be more comfortable on her bed, but thought better of it before the words left her mouth. She’d never be able to sleep there again for imagining him naked in her bed. He might be snoring on her sofa, but he was doing it with his clothes on. She could live with those memories. Barely.

Ignoring his presence as much as she was capable of, she returned her attention to Tony’s situation. Crunching the new data took the most time. From there, it was fairly simple to compare and contrast the information with the previous readings.

A buzzing noise dragged her attention away from the computer screen. She searched around for her cell phone, found it in her purse by the door, and quickly concluded the sound had come from another device. The buzzing started up again. She followed the sound to Royce’s suit coat draped over a chair at her small dining set.
Probably his new lover.

Retrieving the phone, she clutched it in her hand and crossed the room, debating whether to wake up its owner or not.

“What?” Royce rolled to his back. He looked confused and rumpled, but it took only a moment for his brain to put the pieces together. He sat up, running a hand over his face and through his hair.

“Your phone. Someone was calling you. I thought it might be important.”

He took the item in question from her outstretched hand, tapped the screen a few times then said, “Tony,” by way of explanation. He punched the screen again and a ring tone filled the room. After two rings, a man’s voice came over the line.

“Strikeout. How’s it going over there?”

Royce looked to her for the answer. “Hi, Tony. Dr. Reed here. I’ve been studying the data, and I can’t find anything wrong. I don’t know what to tell you.” She’d been going cross-eyed looking at the charts and graphs. She’d even created a new set, certain she had done something wrong the first time. The man’s pain was coming from somewhere, but the data revealed nothing. She felt less than useless.

“Look, they’re talking about surgery over here. They think something is torn. Please tell me you have something to keep me from going under the knife. I’d be out the rest of the season with no guarantee of coming back—ever.”

The desperation in Tony’s voice was evident. He was grasping at straws, and she couldn’t blame him. The graphs she had memorized flashed through her brain. “Tony. I can’t say for certain there isn’t a tear, but all my data suggests there isn’t one. So did the MRI you had yesterday. The only thing I’ve seen even remotely out of sync is a twitch below your right shoulder blade. It could be a pinched nerve. If that’s the case, I’d suggest you see a chiropractor instead of a surgeon.”

Silence reigned on both sides of the connection.

She shifted from one foot to the other. Royce’s steady gaze and quiet smile boosted her confidence. “What can it hurt? If it doesn’t work, surgery will still be an option.”

“We have a chiropractor here. He wants to talk to you. Can you come down?”

Royce nodded, already slipping his feet back into his shoes.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Thanks, Tricia. Tell Strikeout to drive careful. You’re the only thing standing between me and a scalpel.”

“I’m right here, Ramirez. I can hear you.”

“I meant for you to hear me. Get her here in one piece, or I’ll take you apart with my bare hands.”

“And I’ll help him.” Tricia smiled at Clare’s comment.

“On our way.” Royce ended the call. “What do you need to take with you?”

Tricia glanced at the papers scattered over her desk. “My computer and all the papers.” She powered down the computer while Royce gathered and stacked the reports she’d printed out.

“Looks like you’ve been busy.”

“You slept for nearly three hours.” He’d said he hadn’t slept much on the plane, and having seen him leave the stadium the previous night, she doubted he got much sleep then, either. Forcing those thoughts from her head, she took the stack from his hands and stuffed them in the bag with her computer. “Let me get some shoes. I’ll sort the paper on the way.”

Once they were in her car on the way to the stadium, she had a chance to think about what they were doing. “I’m not making any promises. There could be a glitch with the data.”

“Or not.” Royce glanced her way before returning his eyes to the road. “What do you think? Is there something wonky with the data?”

She shook her head. “No. I don’t think there is.”

“Then go in there and tell Dr. Stephens. He’s the chiropractor the team keeps on retainer. He consults on most injuries. I’ve always thought he seemed like a reasonable kind of guy.” He nodded toward the bag she held in her lap. “Get your ducks in a row, then. These people are all about facts.”

“The data doesn’t lie,” she told the assemblage of medical professionals gathered around to hear what she had to say. “As you can see by comparing two data sets, all the muscles in his arm and shoulder are functioning at relatively the same capacity they were three weeks ago when I took the baseline readings. His range of motion is limited at this time by the pain he’s experiencing, nothing more. Once the cause of the pain is removed, he should be one-hundred percent again.”

She wished she’d taken time to change her clothes. Nothing screamed airhead like a blonde in shorts and sandals. At least she had her fuck-you-I-have-more-advanced-degrees-than-you-do voice at her command at all times. If nothing else, using it made her feel more in control than she was.

Because of their numbers, they’d borrowed Doyle Walker’s office for their meeting. A couple of the men sat together at one of the conversation groupings, comparing the data sheets she’d brought. The rest watched her as if she might abscond with their would-be patient if they took their eyes off her for a second. The tension in the room was thicker than mucus and just as pleasant.

Tony, one arm in a sling and the other wrapped around his wife’s shoulders, gave her a weak smile from their place on the sofa. She smiled back, wishing for his sake she had more than a hunch to go on. She’d be more confident of her position if the medical professionals had consented to let her see the X-rays and MRI results, but no amount of pleading on her part or Tony’s had convinced them to open their tight fists. They didn’t trust her, and they sure as hell didn’t respect her.

To distract herself, Tricia let her gaze wander over the artifacts and treasures in the team manager’s office. Photographs and plaques covered the walls. A bookshelf doubled as a trophy case on the wall nearest the desk. A bowl filled with used baseballs sat front and center on the coffee table before her. She picked up one of the balls and examined the writing scribbled on one side.

“Jason Holder’s walk-off homer from the National League playoffs last year.” The last time she’d noted Royce’s location, he’d been looking out the massive window that formed the back wall of the office and provided a spectacular view of the field below. Having him so close made her nervous. She put the ball back in the bowl and picked up another.

“Let me see that.” He reached over her shoulder. She almost dropped the ball when their fingers brushed as they passed it between them. Maybe being disgraced as a researcher wouldn’t be so bad after all if it meant never having to be this close to Royce again. She didn’t know how much more torture she could take.

“Shit. What’s this doing in here?”

“What is it?” Tony asked.

Royce held the ball up. “It’s the ball Suzuki hit off me two years ago.”

“The one that went into orbit?”

“It didn’t leave the atmosphere, asshole.”

Tony laughed at Royce’s piqued retort. “Close enough. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was recovered by a satellite.”

Royce came around her chair to place the ball back in the bowl. He picked up another and examined the writing on it. “Wonder if he has any of your hits in here?” He examined a few more. “Doesn’t appear so. Interesting, don’t you think?”

“Keep looking, Strikeout.” Everyone turned toward the booming voice. Doyle Walker stood in the open door, surveying the assembled group. “There’s at least one in there.” Advancing into the room, he shut the heavy wooden door behind him. “Someone want to tell me what’s going on?”

“The quacks want to cut me open in order to fix something they admit they aren’t sure is even there.” Tony got to his feet. “Dr. Reed thinks differently. I’m inclined to agree with her.”

Doyle listened—nodded—then directed his attention to the huddle of doctors. “Is that true?”

“We think exploratory surgery is the best option.” Tricia frowned at the famed doctor’s declaration.

The manager didn’t agree or disagree. Instead, he focused on her. “What do you recommend?”

Tricia stood, clasping her hands together in front of her to keep them from shaking. “Based on my research, I think it’s nothing more than a pinched nerve. Most likely, a session with a good chiropractor could alleviate the pain and get Mr. Ramirez back on the field for tomorrow’s game.”

“I opt for door number two, Tricia…I mean, Dr. Reed’s solution.”

“Your opinion is duly noted.” Doyle turned to Royce. “You’ve had ample time to assess Dr. Reed’s work. I guess now is as good a time as any for your report. What’s your opinion on Dr. Reed’s project? Should we listen to what she has to say or not?”

Tricia swayed, the blood draining from her head to pool in her feet.
Report? What did he mean by that?
Her eyes darted to Royce. The apologetic expression on his face confirmed his duplicity. He’d been sent to spy on her and report back to team management on the validity of her project. He’d have no choice but to throw her under the bus. She sank into the chair behind her and braced for the impact.

Fuck and double fuck!

The color drained from Tricia’s face and for a second Royce thought she might faint. God, he was an asshole for putting her through this. He’d hoped to find a time to speak with Doyle privately, to set the man straight. There was no reason for her to know he’d been gathering intelligence for team management regarding her research. No way was he going to give specifics about what had occurred between them, but he could be truthful without details. As she collapsed, obviously expecting the worst, he prayed he still had a chance with her once he said his piece.