Thrown By Love (32 page)

He tossed it on the bed.

Through the window he saw G’maw working with Drake in the horse ring. The horse wasn’t cooperating, and she put her hands on her hips and wagged a finger.

Scotty took the stairs down to the kitchen three at a time and grabbed an apple off the counter. Went back for a second and started munching as he crossed the yard.

He bounded into the ring with G’maw. “This might work better,” he said as he handed an apple to her.

“A brain would be good too,” she said, laughing. “You got an extra one of those?”

“I could ride him if that would help.”

G’maw looked him over. “Don’t tempt the fates. You’ve done a good job of that already.”

The gate clanged open, and his dad walked into the ring. Drake nosed over and sniffed. His dad pulled a carrot from his pocket.

“Wily damn horse. He’s been hanging with your grandmother too long.”

“I’ll just leave you boys to it then,” G’maw said. “You’ll soon see what forces you’re up against.”

His dad pulled a saddle from the fence and hoisted it onto Drake. “Heard you got a letter.”

Scotty didn’t like the tone. He’d opened up a can of worms with all his questions about relationships and now he’d better close it. Information was one thing, humiliation was another. And not something he had any interest wallowing in.

“It’s not what you think. It was from Alex.”

“I saw your press interview, son.” He tugged at the girth, cinching it snug. “No woman would open herself to another round of that. Hell, you convinced
me
it was over.” He turned and shot Scotty a steely look. “It’s not like you to lie; Chloe probably knows you well enough to know that. She’s not going to be writing you a letter.”

“I don’t suppose you saw
her
interview?” Scotty hated the defensiveness in his voice.

“Hers was business. The woman did what she knew was best. For the team. For you.”

His dad walked Drake to the saddle block, slipped his foot into the stirrup and mounted.

He rode toward the gate, then reined in Drake and circled back toward Scotty. “If you want a woman like that, you’ll have to go get her.”

Chapter Twenty-seven

Chloe and Jackie nudged past a knot of fans hoping to snag an autograph from the Giants’ players during batting practice, and Chloe looked out at the arc of the stadium. She might love the Sabers, but this was her favorite stadium. The view of the bay, the feel of the city surrounding it, there was no ballpark like it. Maybe now that the vote for the Sabers new stadium had gone through, they’d have a park to match the excellence of the team. But they still wouldn’t have the bay.

She waved at George Ellis, who sat behind home plate with Halliman and Halliman’s wife, Betsey. George had been a league-leading hitter in his day; he preferred to sit behind the plate. He’d taken a liking to Halliman. George had been brilliant at the press conference the day they’d announced that the stadium vote had gone through. It’d been the first press conference she’d enjoyed. It’d helped to have Halliman and his wife there. More than his financial backing, Chloe appreciated his clean dealing and sound advice.

Jackie ushered her into seats about ten rows up behind first base. “Not the best seats for watching a pitcher,” Jackie said. “But I get a good view of Alex.”

“I can’t believe that Scotty’s first game back with the Giants is interleague against the Sabers,” Chloe said. She sipped her beer. “I mean, I knew the schedule, but knowing and facing it are different beasts.”

Jackie held up her beer cup. “Here’s to the beasts.”

“Ten bucks says we beat you.”

“Ten bucks and loser buys dinner.” Jackie grinned.

The Giants took the field for batting practice. Scotty and the bullpen pitchers were warming up down the right field line.

“Alex’s swing looks solid,” Jackie said.

“You surprise me,” Chloe said.

“Alex talks baseball in his sleep.” She laughed. “That and wine. He’s working up to seals.”

“If Ribio and Griffin keep their pace, the Sabers stand a chance at the division title.
If
our pitching holds up. Scotty hasn’t been easy to replace.”

“I bet not,” Brigitte said as she slid into the empty seat next to Chloe. “Sorry I’m late. The plans for my Paris show are giving me fits.”

Chloe hugged her and introduced her to Jackie.

“I don’t know much about baseball,” Brigitte said in her French-laced accent, “but I do know a thing or two about men.” She lowered her sunglasses and peered over the top, looking first at Jackie and then to Chloe. “I say Scotty Donovan’s a keeper, and I am rarely wrong.”

Chloe blushed. Though she’d warned Jackie about Brigitte, words were inadequate to describe her. But Jackie laughed, and the two expats appeared to take an immediate liking to one another.

“Have you called him?”

Leave it to Brigitte to get to the point.

“Not before this game. It’s his first time back out. I wouldn’t risk upsetting him.”

Brigitte pursed her lips and winked at Jackie. “Americans. They know nothing about love.”

When the Giants took the field in the top of the first, Chloe had to remind herself to breathe. Scotty tossed in a few pitches and then the Sabers’ lead-off hitter entered the batter’s box. She knew that a pitcher who’d been through what Scotty had experienced faced a hump of fear that could ruin a great career, but she saw no hesitation in his form or on his face.

“Slow and easy,” Jackie said, her hand warm on Chloe’s arm. “Slow and easy.”

But slow and easy was evidently not what Scotty had in mind. He fired a ball across the plate so hard, Ribio didn’t have time to swing.

“Looks like he’s recovered,” Jackie said.

“
He
might have, but I’m not sure I will.” Chloe leaned forward, watched Scotty wind up, watched the four-seamer tail away from the plate as Ribio missed it by a foot. It occurred to her that if Scotty struck every batter out, he’d be safe.

In the second inning, he did just that.

In the bottom of the third, the Giants’ catcher smacked a solid single. The few Sabers’ fans scattered around them muttered and booed.

Brigitte cheered. “It’s more interesting when they actually hit the ball.”

“Said like a true fan.” Chloe smiled at her.

When she turned back to the field, Scotty stood in the batter’s box, ready to hit. She’d forgotten he’d be hitting—blocked out that he’d be facing a pitcher and his fastballs. She sucked in her breath and said a silent prayer.

Brigitte eyed her. “Is something wrong?”

“American League pitchers, those who pitch for teams in my league, don’t usually hit. I wasn’t thinking that Scotty would have to face . . .” She pulled in a long breath. “
National
League pitchers hit all the time, so of course he’ll be batting.” Not knowing if she was talking to Brigitte or herself, she stopped to gather her thoughts and rubbed at her collarbone, hoping to relax suddenly tense muscles. She turned to Brigitte, but immediately looked back at the field. “Even though this is an interleague game, we play by the rules of the home field.
This
is a National League field.”

She shouldn’t have forgotten that. She should have been prepared.

Except for the family game in Nebraska, she’d only seen Scotty bat in person once, against the Royals. He’d struck out looking.

“I’m not sure I understand,” Brigitte said, “but everyone else is batting. It can’t be so difficult.”

“Ninety miles an hour, Brigitte. The ball goes ninety miles an hour.”

“I see. “ Brigitte slid to the edge of her seat. “It looks so slow, this game. I hadn’t realized.”

“That’s a funny bat,” Jackie said.

She’d been concentrating so hard on Scotty, Chloe hadn’t noticed the bat.

“The boys from the Big Brothers program gave it to him. They all signed it.”

“Must’ve passed the bat Gestapo.” Jackie winked.

“Yeah,” was all Chloe could mutter. She remembered the youngest boy at the fundraiser; he’d be happy Scotty was back with the Giants. A lot of people were. She could only hope Scotty was.

Scotty swung at the first pitch and fouled it off. It was the first ball she’d ever seen him get a piece of.

“He’ll be going for a bunt,” Chloe said.

“I’m already thinking about where I’d like to have that dinner,” Jackie said with a grin. “You should join us, Brigitte. Chloe’s paying.”

“We haven’t lost yet,” Chloe said, without taking her eyes off Scotty.

Scotty laid down a perfect sacrifice bunt, and Aderro made it to second base. The crowd cheered. A player making a comeback was a great cause for celebration, especially a comeback like Scotty’s.

Scotty walked back toward the dugout with the grin she loved plastered across his face. He paused and tipped his cap to the crowd, then glanced to where she sat with Jackie and Brigitte before he ducked out of sight.

“He loves you,” Brigitte said. “That look was a perfect testament.”

“If a quick look into the stadium is all it takes to declare affection, half the women here today could imagine they’re on the player’s lists,” Chloe retorted. But he had. Glanced. Quite purposely. And it had set her heart fluttering.

Brigitte gave a conspiratorial nod to Jackie. “She is a tough case, my friend Chloe, but I believe there is hope.”

Jackie smiled at them both over the rim of her plastic beer cup.

By the time the Giants’ manager, Hal Walsh, took Scotty out of the game in the bottom of the sixth inning, Chloe had been clenching her jaw so tight for so long, both it and her head ached. The Giants led five to one. She’d watched with pride as Scotty had thrown perfectly timed sinkers and cutters with late movement that confounded even the best of her Sabers’ hitters. There was no hitch in his movements, just perfect placement and breathtaking velocity. She was more than relieved when Walsh pulled him out; with a big lead there was no use overtaxing his arm on his first outing. Thank God for good managers.

But though she was concerned for Scotty, her own team claimed her attention. She made a mental note to ask George and Charley about beefing up the Sabers’ bullpen. If the Sabers faced the Giants in the Series, they’d need strong arms for the middle of the game. The young slugger George brought up from the Seals would bump up their hitting, but they still had pitching holes to fill.

“
You
deserve a beer,” Jackie said. She waved the vendor over. “Maybe more than one,” she said as she handed the beer to Chloe.

“I’m not sure what I deserve, but I know what I want.”

“She’s a quick study, my friend Chloe,” Brigitte said with a sly smile. “It only took me
fifteen years
to get her to say that.”

The Giants won six to two. Chloe asked her friends where they wanted to eat.

As they sipped matching cosmos in the restaurant across from the stadium, Chloe was glad for the company of her friends. Being with them helped melt away the edges of her loneliness, made her almost happy. They were staying over at her place in the city. It was a short cab ride away, so they ordered a third round of drinks. Brigitte and Jackie appeared unfazed, but Chloe was a lightweight. She felt the glow of the alcohol all the way to her toes.

“It is a lovely game. I’m beginning to appreciate it,” Brigitte purred, her accent making the word
lovely
sound like something you’d want to taste. “And the men are
fabulous
. Great glutes.” She tossed her hair and sent the earrings that dangled from her ears sparkling. “I can see why you ladies love them.” She leaned close to Chloe. “What I’d really like is a pass to the locker room.” She flashed a teasing smile. “My wildest fantasies always end up with me under warm running water surrounded by all those hard, glistening bodies.” She crossed her arms in front of her. “But
you
both know such men beyond fantasy. I can’t say that I’m not just a bit jealous.”