Personally, he suspected they just wanted a reason to party with management’s blessing. He didn’t feel like celebrating. It would have been perfectly fine with him if the day had passed like any other. Since they were in the midst of spring training, he could have holed up in his hotel room and enjoyed an evening with a six pack and the remote.
Now, though, he realized that it was a good thing he’d gone out. It kept him from dwelling on the fact that this was the first birthday he’d celebrated since his mother died.
“Told you, Dorsey,” said another teammate, Ken Angelica. “A nice set of tits makes everything better.”
The seven other ballplayers sitting around the stage raised their glasses in exuberant agreement. Each of them had only played one or two seasons in the Bigs. Evan couldn’t help but feel ancient compared to all of them.
Finlay Oberman, a pitcher fresh out of college, winced as he lowered his glass. “Damn, today’s game about killed me. A full season of this could mean the end of my career. Management better get some more talent in the pen, or I’m SOL.”
Some grumbles of support rolled through the group as the guys clapped the pitcher on the back. Evan hated to admit it, but Finlay was right. The coaching staff had left him in far too long, especially for a spring training game. If that continued, the kid really was shit out of luck.
“Sure looks like Atlanta’s gonna have an impressive season,” Ken observed. “Now that they have Parker and Haviland fully healthy and Guthry added to the roster, their pitching rotation’s gonna be a bitch to face.”
Evan silently agreed. He finished his beer as the other guys commented and put in their opinions on which teams would lead the pennant races in the coming season. Was it sad or just realistic that none of them saw L.A. making it that far?
They all knew that their team was a losing combination of overused veterans and unseasoned rookies. As one of the few players on the team who fell between those extremes, Evan felt the disparity all too keenly. The veterans weren’t showing an interest in bringing the rookies up to snuff, either. They seemed content to ride out their contracts and retire.
That was one of the reasons Evan ultimately agreed to go out with the younger guys that evening. Someone had to step up and give these guys a glimpse of other possible futures.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t overcome by a “Win One for the Gipper” speech just then.
After a couple more beers, he stopped dwelling on the problems that weighed on him. Word had clearly gotten around to the dancers about the generous guys to the right of the stage, as they favored their side. He figured he was in well over a thousand dollars by the time his dinner was set in front of him. The women had earned every penny.
His steak and baked potato were good, which was a blessing. The food would help absorb some of the tequila shots the other guys made him do between beers.
“Told you the food was good here,” Danny said with another elbow to his side. His words were beginning to slur. “The girls aren’t the only tasty things around here.”
“Your jokes are terrible, Danny.” He cut into his steak and watched the succulent juices spill onto his plate. “It’s no wonder you’re single.”
Snorting, Danny countered, “So what’s your excuse?”
“Choice.”
“Yeah, right.”
He didn’t expect Danny to understand. In truth, he was surprised he admitted it out loud. The alcohol was obviously having an effect. Frowning, he stabbed his potato and ate a large mouthful.
“Here she is again,” Danny said as the music rose up. “Your birthday present waiting to happen.”
Chewing his food, Evan looked up and spotted the dark-haired dancer from earlier. She seemed to hone in on him, her eyes remaining on him throughout most of her dance. It distracted him enough that he stopped eating to watch her. The sensual sway of her hips as she danced brought to mind another memory…the memory of a cheerful blonde pixie celebrating his friend’s marriage.
Putting down his knife and fork, he stood up. Danny looked at him as though he’d thrown ice water onto the stage.
“Here,” Evan said, pressing a handful of twenties into his hand. “Make sure she’s covered.”
Without explaining further, he headed toward the front door. Halfway there, he remembered that he’d gotten a ride, so he couldn’t leave. Sitting in the parking lot on his birthday sounded exceptionally lame, so he headed to the bar.
“What can I get you?”
He caught the gaze of the bartender and almost did a double-take. The shape of her blue eyes and the length of her hair made him think of his mother. She looked about the same age, too.
“I don’t know,” he said at last.
Her smile was kind. “Havin’ a rough night, are you?”
He nodded.
Placing a cocktail napkin in front of him, she poured him a beer. Her gaze remained on his as she stopped the tap at the right time to form the perfect head. She placed it in front of him and he automatically picked it up to take a drink.
“What is this?” he asked.
“Miller Lite.”
“Ah. It’s been years since I last had one of these.”
She winked at him. “It’s my first choice for customers like you.”
He took another sip, expecting her to move on to the next impatient customer. Instead, she reached across the bar and touched the back of his hand. He looked up and met her gaze.
“Look, sugar. I’ve been doin’ this long enough to have learned a few things. If you don’t mind my sayin’ so, it seems like you’re seekin’ answers in the bottom of a glass that you won’t find there.”
His brows drew together as he considered her words. Eventually, he admitted, “I don’t know where else to look.”
She patted his hand. “Oh, I think you do.”
Finally, she moved on to serve the next person. He watched the small bubbles in his beer float to the surface of his glass. They were light, airy…seemingly carefree.
Everything he wasn’t.
He recalled exactly when he’d started feeling that getting up every day was a chore. It was hardly a mystery. But he wasn’t sure that he’d realized just how low he’d gotten until just then.
Nothing brought him happiness. Nothing motivated him. Nothing stirred his passion like it used to.
Did he want to continue living like this?
Did he have a choice?
Once again, he brought to mind the blonde stranger who had purposefully taken the time to speak with him at Cole’s wedding. He hadn’t forgotten anything about their encounter…the bracing scent of the air, the brilliance of the night sky, the feel of her arms encircling him, the sound of her voice, how she tasted, and most importantly, what she said. All of it sat in the back of his mind, a memory that had helped him through many difficult days ever since.
Glancing over his shoulder, he saw his teammates waving money at the stripper, each of them apparently having the time of their lives. He turned back and looked at the bartender, whose eyes reminded him of his mother. Finishing his beer, he put another twenty on the bar.
“Can I get you another one?” she asked when she saw him.
“No, thanks. I want a cab.”
She winked at him and nodded. “I’ll call one for you,” she said. “Good luck, sugar.”
Chapter 3
Sierra hated to be late, so she ran through the stadium in order to arrive at her meeting on time. She passed several people she knew and gave them smiles and waves, but didn’t slow down. As she rounded the corner leading to the executive offices, she glanced at the time on her cell phone and finally slowed to a walk.
Catching her breath, she approached the door reading Caroline Sanderson. Her gaze moved to the desk just outside the office and the woman sitting there.
“Hi, Millicent,” she said, fanning herself so she didn’t look like a sopping mess. The heat in Atlanta in late May was a killer. “So nice to see you again.”
“Hi,
Sierra. You’re right on time. She’ll be with you—”
The doorknob of the office turned. Millicent stopped talking and sat straighter in her chair. Sierra caught a movement out of the corner of her eye and glanced away from the door. She spotted Burke Richards, the Atlanta left fielder, moving down the hall. He chanced to look over and see her. His gaze roamed from her feet up to her chest as he walked. The once-over was something she’d grown used to over the years. Baseball was a male-dominated sport, after all. Still, the look in his eyes made her shift and glance away.
And speaking of males, one opened the office door. Sierra turned and watched Matt Jenson, the team’s veteran third baseman, emerge from behind the door. Just as Burke had, Matt gave her a thorough scan. This time, it was even creepier. Matt was at least a decade older than her and she was pretty sure he was married.
“Well, aren’t you just the answer to a lonely man’s prayer?” he said.
Sierra exchanged an uncomfortable glance with Millicent, who made a rude gesture behind Matt’s back.
“Matthew,” said a calm female voice from inside the office, “kindly stop hitting on my niece. I assure you, she isn’t interested, but your wife very much will be.”
His face turning red, Matt hurried out of the office and down the hall. His gait was stiff until he rounded the corner leading into the main corridor. Once he was almost out of sight, he started limping. Sierra quirked an eyebrow and looked again at Millicent, who gave her a thumb’s up. Nodding, Sierra turned and hurried into the office.
“Thanks, Aunt Caroline,” she said, moving around the desk to give her a hug. “He’s a little skeevy.”
“Matt’s harmless. He’s just thirty-seven and feeling old, something which males in this profession endure on a regular basis.”
“Is that why he was hobbling?” she asked.
Her aunt laughed. “You’re an old soul, Sierra, but still so young. He wasn’t hobbling because of his age, but due to a recent knee injury.”
“Oh. Is it serious?”
“I have yet to find out.”
Sierra smiled. “Well, thanks again for calling him out. I knew there had to be a perk to being the owner’s niece.”
“Right,” her aunt said dryly. “Because that’s the only perk.”
Sierra shrugged, her smile not dimming. She knew well enough that she was blessed to have the family she did. The fact that her generous aunt and uncle chose to dote on their extended family only brought that point home. Still, she didn’t want to take advantage of her relatives. Her parents had long ago taught her that such behavior was unacceptable. She’d like to think that even if they hadn’t, she’d know well enough by now.
“You rock, Aunt Caroline,” she said at last, giving her another hug. “How’s Uncle Mike?”
Michael Sanderson was a business mogul who had purchased the team a number of years ago as a kind of hobby. Since his focus was on his business, he allowed his wife to make most of the decisions regarding the ball team. That made her a powerful woman, Sierra knew.
“He’s doing well,” her aunt said, lowering into her seat and waving at the chair on the other side of her desk. “Focused on the bottom line, of course.”
“Of course.” Sierra sat in the chair. “Did he go for the appointment?”
She was talking about the appointment her uncle was supposed to have with his cardiologist. He’d been complaining of chest pains, something that concerned all of them.
“Yes,” her aunt replied as she shifted some papers on her desk. “There were no blockages. The doctor thinks it’s just stress.”
In Sierra’s opinion, there was no such thing as “just” stress. She wanted to advise her aunt to make her uncle rest, but knowing her aunt like she did, she held her tongue.
“You’ll keep me updated, right?” she asked.
“Of course.” Her aunt pulled a folder out of her bottom drawer and set it on the desk. “Now, are you ready to learn what shots I’d like you to take?”
“Absolutely.”
In addition to owning the baseball team, Sierra’s aunt and uncle owned a number of income properties in and around Atlanta and across the country. Sierra had been offered the opportunity to live rent-free in one of their apartments near Piedmont Park as long as she agreed to assist them with some property management duties and take as many photos as they needed to market their other Atlanta properties. Since she was a photographer by profession, the offer had been a no-brainer.
They reviewed properties for a while, interspersing the official business talk with some family gossip, as they usually did. A knock at the door interrupted them. Sierra glanced at the wall clock and was surprised by how much time had passed.
“Yes?” her aunt called out.
The door opened a few inches and a face poked through. Sierra caught a glimpse of red hair and smiled.
“Oh, Everly,” her aunt said, also glancing at the clock. “Is it really that time already?”
“I can come back if—”
“Nonsense. Come on in. Sierra and I are just wrapping up.”
When Everly walked in, Sierra rose to greet her. Everly wasn’t usually one for hugs, but Sierra was. She’d forced that form of greeting on her friend until she’d had no choice but to accept it. Thus, Everly smiled and opened her arms as Sierra hurried up to her.
“It’s so good to see you,” Sierra said.
“You, too.”
Everly extricated herself from the hug and brushed a stray hair away from her eyes. She wore glasses today, Sierra noticed.
“You’re starting to get a real baby bump!” she exclaimed, stepping back and studying her friend’s waist.
Flushing pink, Everly nodded. She was four months pregnant. Sierra had been taking her pregnancy pictures every month since she and Cole found out. In fact, they were due for their next shoot in the not-too-distant future.
“You look wonderful, Everly,” her aunt said. “It’s great seeing you and Cole so happy.”
“Thanks, Caroline.”
Sierra turned to the desk and gathered the file her aunt had prepared for her. “I’ll just get out of your way.”
“No need, Sierra,” her aunt said. “I know you and Everly want to catch up with each other while you’re both here. How did the meeting go, Everly?”
A line appeared between Everly’s eyebrows. Sierra knew she served as a consultant on the team’s medical staff. She held a doctorate in physical therapy and was continuing her education in sports medicine. Caroline had come to rely on her insights into the health of her players.
“Jensen’s out for at least four weeks,” Everly replied.
Sierra blinked in surprise. She noticed that her aunt’s expression reflected a similar reaction.
“Are you sure?” her aunt asked.
“Yes, ma’am. He suffered a tear of his meniscus. He needs surgery, then a few weeks of rehab. Considering his age and the nature of the tear, it could take more than double my initial estimate for recovery.”
“Two months?”
Her aunt looked out the window to her right, her brow furrowed. Sierra knew she was thinking that in the best case, this would keep Matt out until July, and at the worst, well into August. He was a key member of the team’s lineup. She was probably trying to shuffle the batting order to make up for the glaring gap. If Sierra was right, she wasn’t going to fill that spot with their current roster.
“Thank God this happened before the trade deadline,” her aunt murmured.
“Sorry?” Everly asked.
Her aunt shook her head. “Nothing. Thank you, Everly. I appreciate the information. I’ll let you and Sierra run off. I look forward to seeing you next week after the team meeting.”
“Sure thing,” Everly said.
Once they were dismissed, Sierra tucked the file in her messenger bag and walked with Everly away from the corporate offices. She was aware of the stares they received, and chalked them up to her tall, beautiful friend.
“I’m
sorry to hear about Matt,” she said. “I had no idea he was so injured when I saw him earlier.”
Everly nodded. “I saw him leaving the stadium. He shouldn’t be walking without crutches. That’ll only make things worse.”
“Men. They’re so stubborn.”
“Tell me about it.”
Grinning, Sierra glanced at her. “How’s married life?”
“Amazing.”
“Thought so. You and Cole are ridiculous together. It’s epic.” When Everly turned pink again, Sierra laughed. “So, when can we meet so I can do your next pregnancy shoot?”
While they made plans, she chanced to look over at a hallway that led to the corporate offices from another direction. A male walked past without looking her way. She came to a halt, prompting Everly to do the same.
“What’s going on?” Everly asked.
“That was Evan Dorsey.”
Everly’s head swiveled. “It was?”
“Yes.”
“You’re sure?”
“Oh, yes. I’d recognize him anywhere. His hair has gotten longer since your wedding.”
“Well, that was over six months ago.” Pausing, Everly stared at the hallway where he’d disappeared. “Why do you suppose he’s here?”
“I don’t know, but I have a feeling I’m going to find out.”
Chapter 4
Evan followed the instructions that Caroline Sanderson had given him to get up to the corporate offices within the stadium. It turned out to be less complicated than he anticipated, and he stepped into the small lobby outside of her office fifteen minutes before their scheduled appointment time.
He spotted the closed door with her name on it and knew he was in the right place. Seated behind the desk just outside of the office was a young woman with curious brown eyes, long black hair, and skin dark enough that her straight teeth looked bright white when she smiled. The plaque on her desk read Millicent Herman.