Double Play

  In a way that guys were masters at, Pace and Red had avoided talking about anything too personal since their last conversation at the bullpen. But when Pace pulled up to the hotel for the poker night and got out of his car right next to Red, he knew they couldn’t keep it up. Not when he was about to see Holly for the first time in too long, not when it was sitting like a block of ice in his gut. “Got a minute, Red?”

  Red looked over, clearly saw the determination on Pace’s face, and sighed as he tossed aside his cigarette. “Yeah.”

  “You ever think about what’ll happen when you leave baseball?”

  “Not until recently.” Red shrugged. “I have nothing but the game, son.”

  Pace nodded. He knew that feeling all too well. It didn’t change a thing. “Did you do it? Did you give Ty the stimulants?”

  Red closed his eyes. “Why shouldn’t I?”

  “Because it’s wrong.”

  The older man, the only man to have been there for Pace through thick and thin, shook his head, then slowly nodded. “I know.”

  “You have to stop.”

  “I know that, too.” Red paused, never one to use a lot of words. “Ty’s tests came back positive this morning. He’s not going to appeal.”

  Which was as good as an admission of guilt, and meant he’d be suspended, leaving the Heat without a strong pitcher to cover Pace until his return at the tail end of a season that had been touted as The Season. “He’s young,” Pace said. “He’ll get through it. We’ll all get through it.”

  “Yeah.” Red looked at the hotel. “About that woman.”

  “Holly,” Pace said wearily. “Her name is Holly.”

  “I know. Dammit, I know.” He started coughing, forcing him to pull out his inhaler. “She makes you happy. That pissed me off. I thought baseball was it for you, but it’s not. It’s her.” He looked pained. “I’m going to get used to that. I’m retiring, Pace.”

  “Red—”

  “Jesus, I’m doing it your way, and you’re still fucking arguing with me.” He clasped Pace on the shoulder, his eyes serious. “Thanks for not ratting me out. Thanks for letting me do this with my dignity intact.”

  Pace stared at him, his throat tight. “I didn’t do that for you. Holly did.” And in return, Pace had been hard on her, too hard. She’d deserved better from him. Much better. He was going to do his damnedest to make it up to her.

  Holly had assigned jobs to the volunteers and was putting up the decorations when the guys started to arrive. Once the event began, they’d each be manning a table, available for fun and laughs and whatever else the people who’d paid a thousand bucks a head to be there wanted. For now, they were volunteers like the rest of them.

  When Henry came in, Holly smiled, but he didn’t. Joe arrived, and she showed him to his table. He quietly thanked her, but without his usual smile. Mason came through without stopping to say hi.

  Holly took a deep breath and kept working.

  Red stood in a corner with Gage, talking. When she needed help moving a huge table, she turned to them. “Can either of you help?”

  “Of course,” Gage said, nudging her out of the way. “It’s our team.”

  Right. Message received. They were helping the Heat, not her. Her chest ached, and her eyes burned, but she kept her chin up. “Thank you.”

  Wade walked by, looking his usual California-surfer-boy gorgeous. He was the first to stop. “Hey,” he said quietly.

  “Wade.” She swallowed past the lump in her throat and looked at the bruise on his jaw from the earlier fight at home plate. “How are you?”

  He let out a breath. “Keeping my head above water. You?”

  “Same.” She paused. “How is he? How’s Pace?”

  “On or off record?”

  Her heart squeezed. “Off.”

  “Missing you,” he said bluntly, his green eyes meeting hers. “A lot.”

  Oh God, this was tough. Holding it together was tough. “Good.”

  He smiled at that and tugged a loose strand of her hair. “Hang in there.”

  “I’m trying.” When he left, she looked around the ballroom at the people she’d come to know and love, all working their butts off for a charity event, all giving back to the community, all united together. She’d never really had that; she’d always been on the outside looking in.

  But there for a little while, she’d gotten a taste of being on the inside, and . . . and she’d loved it.

  Loved them.

  Throat even tighter now, she forced herself to keep busy. Because busy, she couldn’t think too much. Or so went the plan, and she was in the middle of adding a gold streamer to the silver ones already strewn between two huge chandeliers when she felt someone steady her not-quite-steady ladder. She glanced down, and her heart lodged in her throat.

  Pace.

  He stood there looking fit and relaxed and so good that she nearly lost it. He was in faded Levi’s and a Cal State sweatshirt, laid-back and casual.

  But she couldn’t pull off laid-back and casual, not with his eyes drinking her in. “Hey,” she managed, gripping the top of the ladder.

  “Hey.”

  He wasn’t favoring his shoulder, and there was no sign of any pain as he held the ladder for her, eyes locked on hers.

  She’d imagined what it would be like to see him again, what she would say, how she would try to make him want her again.

  But she couldn’t do it.

  Not after the past hour, seeing how the guys saw her, what they thought of her. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, beg him to want her. “You’re healing.”

  “Getting there. Come down, Holly.”

  Her throat burned so badly she could hardly breathe as she backed down. He kept his hands on the ladder so that she ended up climbing right into the crook of his arms. She slowly turned to face him. “No pain?”

  “None. I’m day-to-day again.”

  “Oh, Pace,” she breathed, knowing that meant he could play again as soon as he was ready. “I’m so glad.”

  He shifted his hands from the ladder to her hips. “You look good,” he said very quietly. “You’ve gotten some sun.”

  Her heart gave one hard kick against her ribs. One more kind word, and she really was going to lose it. “I’ve been playing ball.”

  “With River and Chipper and the other guys?”

  She nodded, and he arched a brow. “They didn’t tell you?” she asked.

  “No.” But he didn’t look irritated. He looked . . . pleased.

  “I’m getting good at hitting,” she informed him. “And I think pitching might be a calling.”

  He smiled, and dammit, she nearly melted.

  He noticed the streamer in her hand, the one she hadn’t been able to get up high enough. “Need some help?”

  Her throat tightened even more, completely blocking off her air supply as her chest constricted hard. “Why are you being so nice?”

  Clearly surprised at the question, he took a slow look around the room, his gaze touching on each of his teammates as if taking in the situation. There was understanding in his gaze when it landed on her again, which in itself nearly broke her. “Listen, they opened up and talked to you about the banned substances, and one of us pretty much admitted to fucking up. It’s easier to blame you than Ty. They’ll get over it.”

  “Will they?”

  “Yes.”

  “You got over it?”

  “You’ve done nothing wrong,” he said firmly. “Ty did. Tucker did. And Red. They all screwed up, and during my pity party, I blamed the wrong person.”

  She met his soft, warm gaze. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” His hands tightened on her, one sliding up her back. “I’m sorry it took me so long to say this, but you were right. Red’s retiring.”

  “Oh, Pace. I’m sorry.”

  “Also not your fault. But he’s going to get to leave with his pride still intact, and that’s thanks to you. He knows that, too. It took guts to come here tonight, Holl
y.”

  “Pace—”

  “I’ve always had a thing for guts.” He ran a finger over her jaw.

  She closed her eyes to absorb his touch, which she’d missed. “I’m not brave. Just stubborn.”

  “I’ll give you that, too. Holly . . .” He waited until she opened her eyes. “You accused me of being all baseball. I—”

  “Okay, guys,” Sam said through a microphone to the entire ballroom. “All the Heat players need to go change pronto. Fifteen minutes before you have to be in your places!”

  Pace let out a frustrated breath.

  “It’s okay, Pace.”

  “No, it’s not.” He turned his back on the room and looked into her eyes. “I’m not all baseball, Holly. Or I’m trying not to be.” He shifted a little closer, bending to put his mouth to her ear. “I missed you.”

  His voice was low and sexy as hell, which had her eyes drifting shut in pleasure. “Pace—”

  He kissed her, soft and warm, and it felt real. So damn real. Then with Sam barking into the microphone again, he slowly pulled back.

  “You have to go.”

  “I know.” He kissed her one last time, then turned and headed toward his team, most of whom were watching.

  She let out a breath, knowing he couldn’t have given her a better gift than the one he just had, the one of undeniable acceptance.

  Chapter 25

  Baseball is life. The rest is just details.

  The Heat’s Third Annual Poker Night was a huge success, and the hotel ballroom was packed to the gills with the rich and famous. It was late by the time Pace got a five-minute break from his table, and he immediately went looking for Holly. Instead, he found Tia.

  For the first time since he’d first met his tiny stalker, she wasn’t wearing his jersey. She wore a long siren red evening gown and actually looked quite amazing. He couldn’t even tell she was crazy as she smiled. “It’s not what you think,” she said immediately. “I came here tonight to break up with you.”

  He blinked. “You did?”

  Stepping close, she cupped his jaw. “Aw, Pace. It was beautiful while it lasted, but frankly, you’re a little skittish for me. I need more of a real man, someone not afraid to go after what he wants.” That said, she pulled him down and kissed him on the cheek. “I’m moving on. Don’t mourn me, love, it just wasn’t meant to be.” And with a last smile, she walked away.

  Pace watched her go, torn between relief and terror for whoever her next love was. “Tia?”

  She turned back to face him. “Don’t try to sweet talk me back into your life, Pace. You can’t.”

  “I’m just wondering who the real man is, the guy you’re leaving me for.”

  She sent him a dreamy smile. “Wade O’Riley.”

  He blinked, then grinned. “Excellent choice.” When she was gone, he headed back to his table, making a quick stop at Wade’s. “Watch out for the lady in red.”

  Wade was running the five-card stud table, entertaining a packed crowd. “Is she hot?”

  “Gorgeous but bat-in-the-cave crazy.”

  Wade slid him a look. “Tia? You’re giving me Tia?”

  “The one and only.” He slapped Wade on the shoulder and moved toward his table, craning his neck in search of Holly. Every once in a while, he caught a quick glimpse of her moving through the crowd in a black cocktail dress that revealed her shoulders and back, hair piled high, sparkling earrings brushing her shoulders, emphasizing that sweet spot that once upon a time he’d kissed just to hear her shaky inhale of breath, but he never got close enough, and his table was packed.

  When the evening finally wound down, he once again went searching. He thought he saw her near the doors, but when he got there, she’d vanished. He ran out into the hot summer night, heading down the middle aisle of the parking lot, searching right and left.

  “Fother mucker!”

  He felt his heart lighten as he followed that voice down the second row of cars. There she was in that sexy little black dress, kicking her tire with her black, strappy heel.

  “Problem?” he asked.

  She whirled around so fast she nearly fell on her ass. Her hair, so carefully piled up on top of her head, bobbed, and some strands slipped into her face. “No.” She forced a smile as she swiped her forehead with her arm. “No problem.”

  “It won’t start, will it?”

  “Of course it’ll start.” She leaned back against the car and folded her arms in a casual pose that wasn’t casual at all, looking uncharacteristically rumpled. “ ’Night, Pace.”

  She’d rather be alone in a parking lot than accept help from him. “Was the kiss that bad?”

  “What? No.” She smiled again and shook her head. “I understand what you did, showing the guys your acceptance of me, and I appreciate it. But I don’t want you to feel obligated—”

  “Okay, whoa.” He shook his head. “Damn, you think too much. That wasn’t obligation, Holly.”

  “It wasn’t?”

  “No.” He stepped closer. “It’s nearly two in the morning, and I realize you’re probably exhausted, but let me give you a ride.”

  “Honestly, Pace. You don’t owe me anything, okay? I don’t need a pity friendship from you.”

  He slipped his hands in his pocket and came up with his keys, which he dangled in her face. “How about a pity drive?”

  She snatched the keys so fast his head spun. With a grin, he followed her to his car and got into the passenger seat, enjoying the flash of leg as she took the wheel.

  “I want you to know, I’m not usually so easy,” she said as she whipped them out of the parking lot in an impressive exhibition.

  He gripped the dash. “Furthest thing from my mind.”

  She slid him a look, but he kept a straight face as she drove. At her condo, she turned off the engine, grabbed her purse, and turned to him, an inscrutable look on her usually wide-open face. “Thanks for the ride. Thanks for being there when I needed you tonight.”

  Then she was gone so damn fast that he barely caught her at her front door, putting a hand on her waist as she fumbled with her purse. “I wasn’t always there when you needed me,” he said quietly. “But I’d like to be there for you now.”

  “Thank you. But I don’t need anything at the moment.”

  “Nothing?”

  Her gaze dropped to his mouth and gave him a rush, but then she moved inside. He followed her, looking around as she flipped on the lights. “Interesting.”

  “What?”

  “I just realized. You said I was all baseball, but you know what? I don’t see evidence of a full life here in your place either.”

  “Yeah.” She looked around. “I realized that, too.” She gestured to the kitchen table, to the plant there, and a picture of them nearly two months ago now. He looked at the smile on her face and knew he wanted to see her look that happy again.