Her Best Catch Read online

  I join him on the lawn. He’s pulled two baseball gloves out of his trunk. Okay, so I like picnics and I always have a blanket in my trunk. I guess I understand.

  We start playing catch. He’s getting all the exercise. I on the other hand stand in one place because, as I’m sure you can guess, he has pretty good aim.

  “I’m no good at this,” I say after he chases the ball for about the fifth time.

  “Not to worry. All it takes is a little practice.”

  “How long do you plan on staying out here?”

  “I’m not saying miracles happen in one night. These things take time.”

  “I don’t think there’s enough time left in the free world for me to be able to play a good game of catch.”

  “We could always switch to touch football,” he says as he jogs to me. “Wanna practice that?”

  He drops the baseball and the glove and grabs me around the waist.

  Since my glove is big I gently jiggle my hand and the glove falls to the ground. I put my hands on his forearms wondering where this is leading.

  “I’ve had a good time tonight, Allison.”

  “Me too,” I say. I’m still not convinced we’re a couple. So what do I do if he tries to kiss me?

  He pulls me to him in a hug. His voice is barely above a whisper in my ear. “I hope there’s enough time in your free world for me.”

  “There is,” I whisper back, wondering why we’re whispering. Maybe it’s the moment. Maybe this is what happens when something is starting to happen.

  It’s so sad that I don’t even know.

  He squeezes me really tight and kisses the top of my head.

  If he keeps it up I will have no hair in that particular spot. How unattractive would that be?

  He pulls away then picks up his gloves and ball.

  “See ya,” he says, smiling his oh-so-gorgeous smile that he needs to patent along with his scent.

  “Bye, drive careful.”

  Okay, so now I sound like a mom.

  “I always do,” he says. Then he gives me a thumbs up before climbing into his car.

  Oh, I can’t forget. I’m awesome.

  It’s almost dark. I stand in the front yard and watch his taillights fade into the distance as he drives down my street.

  Is he going home? Where is his home?

  Each time he goes, two thoughts occur to me. One: he’s taken another very small piece of my heart. Two: when will I see him again?

  A third thought tries to take hold but I never let it.

  Will I see him again?

  It’s Friday morning. The phones are going crazy at work and Dave is sick, which means I’m playing receptionist until the part time girl, Sienna-Rae, arrives from her morning classes at the local college.

  At least answering the phones gave me a really good reason to be brief with Velvet when she called to make sure we were still on for lunch today.

  This was our first conversation since Monday night. We do this at times, not talk all week, but never with something hanging between us. Or probably just hanging from me. She sounded perfectly normal on the phone.

  I need to remember Velvet isn’t a mind reader. She really and truly doesn’t realize the toll Trelvet has taken on me. And I’m not sure it’s normal for me to be having such a hard time. I guess that’s why I haven’t voiced anything to her.

  I don’t want to be abnormal.

  I thought this would pass. Either they would stop seeing each other—I see now there’s a slim chance of that happening—or I would be more accepting. All the progress I had made faded quickly after the tag team attempt to thwart anything I may have going with Ashton.

  I’ve been praying my Philippians prayer. Peace that surpasses all understanding.

  When I found out I had phone duty I slipped out to my car and grabbed my Bible. I had brought it because during lunch, since I wasn’t sure if Velvet and I were on or not, I had planned on going over the lesson for Sunday. Jax asked me to teach since he would be on vacation.

  So I decided sitting here between phone calls would be a good time to brush up on what I needed to teach.

  Jax asked me to stay in the book of James, so I’m tackling the second chapter. It talks about how we shouldn’t treat people differently or judge people for what they have or don’t have.

  Visions of Ashton coming into class keep creeping into my mind as I replay what he told me last night about not wanting to be treated special.

  I’d say for the most part, except for that first day, he is right. The guys treat him like one of the guys and the girls, well, they’re still crazy about him, but they’ve calmed way down when he’s around.

  The phone rings.

  “Adams and Treyhune,” I start. “How may I direct your call?”

  Brad Adams insists we use those exact words when greeting potential clients or assisting current clients, which is how he glorifies the job of answering the telephones.

  Dave loves it though.

  “Allison Doll, please.”

  This warm, crazy feeling sweeps over me. It’s Ashton.

  “This is Allison,” I say, “Hello, Ashton.”

  “Hi. Answering phones today?” he asks.

  “For a little while. Dave is sick and the part-time girl will be in soon. I hope.”

  “For your sake, I hope so, too. Speaking of hope, I was hoping you’d have lunch with me.”

  Lunch with the pitcher. Tempting. But what about Velvet? Well, she cancelled on me to have dinner with Trent, didn’t she? But I can’t. Besides I’d really like to see her.

  “I’d love to but Velvet is coming.”

  “Hmmm. Scared I’m going to make you play catch again?”

  What he doesn’t realize is I’m probably his easiest catch right now. Even though we haven’t been on a real date.

  That’s it. I’ll decline lunch so maybe he’ll ask me out for dinner. No, I can’t do that.

  “No. Velvet and I go to lunch every Friday. Besides, she doesn’t know it yet but she’s going to help me go over the Sunday school lesson. Jax is on vacation so he asked me to teach.”

  “Impressive.”

  “Not really. It’s more like reading the scripture and heading a discussion. I don’t know any more than anyone else.”

  “How about if I come with you and Velvet? It sounds interesting. And maybe I’ll learn something.”

  I think of lots of reasons to tell him no. But I don’t. I don’t think Velvet would mind. In reality, this could be good. She could report back to Trent how Ashton is just a regular guy, instead of one who’s trying to play me.

  So I agree. “Sure. We leave at noon.”

  “See you then.”

  Answering the phones has suddenly become exciting. Fun. The whole day has taken a happy turn. The phones are busy, the time flies by. It seems minutes pass instead of hours when noon rolls around.

  The only time Velvet isn’t late is when it involves Friday lunch. She knows I’m on a schedule with work, so she’s considerate and always on time. Even early.

  And today she walks in at one minute to twelve.

  “Hello, Allison,” she says.

  “Hey, girl,” I say to Velvet. “Sienna-Rae will be here in a sec. She’s in the restroom.” I gather up all my papers and Bible. “Oh, I hope you don’t mind, but Ashton is joining us.”

  “Why?”

  Her tone reveals how she feels about Ashton joining us. Her body language—one hip juts out while her arms are crossed over her chest—reinforces it.

  “He called and asked me to lunch. I told him you and I were going to go over the lesson and he said it sounded interesting. Is that okay?”

  I ask even though I can tell it’s not. And it’s really not fair. I have been very gracious about her and Trent. On the outside at least. I haven’t been negative or snotty.

  Sienna-Rae clomps to the desk. Her black platforms look huge on her small feet. She’s about a size two, and wears black all the time, but she has a
great phone voice and filing skills. (Plus she’s very cute and smart.)

  Since Ashton hasn’t arrived, I motion Velvet to my office. She follows, her steps fast and loud.

  “Look,” I say as we step into my office. “Ashton is a nice guy. Don’t let Trent’s paranoid delusions let you think otherwise.”

  “This has nothing to do with Trent.”

  Oh, yeah. Right. Her whole life lately is all about Trent.

  “I have my own mind, Allison. I can form my own opinions,” she says.

  “I know. I just thought since Trent brought the subject up at dinner the other night, he may have turned you against Ashton.”

  “No. Ashton has done a fine job of turning me against him on his own.”

  My skin chills. Velvet looks and sounds really serious.

  “I didn’t want to get into this,” Velvet starts, “but I guess it’s time. I think he’s dating Braedyn.”

  Okay. I mean, we’re not dating. At least not physically dating. I think my heart is sort of dating him, but no one is supposed to know the extreme inner workings of my heart. And he did kiss me. But a kiss isn’t a date, either.

  I try to sound calm. “If he’s dating Braedyn, then he’s dating Braedyn. Ashton and I aren’t dating.”

  My voice doesn’t sound as forceful as I want it to, but I think I’ve pulled off calm.

  “Say what you want, Allison. I know you. Ashton Boyd, albeit unintentionally, is going to hurt you. I can see it coming a mile away.”

  “Wow. You have really good vision.”

  Lame, but I couldn’t think of anything else.

  “Allison, you do what you want to do. But I can’t be a part of it. I’ll call you later.”

  She gives me a quick hug before walking out.

  Her perfume lingers. I have to remind myself she thinks she’s looking out for me. Why is it everyone else always think they know what’s best for you?

  Velvet is my very best friend. I can’t have this between us. I won’t have this between us.

  My mother always told me that the only thing that would break up best friends is a man.

  Even though between Trent and Ashton the deck seems stacked against us, I’m not going to let two men break up our friendship.

  Which leaves me only one choice.

  I’ll just ask Ashton if he’s dating Braedyn.

  It’s that simple.

  CHAPTER 12

  Are you dating Braedyn?

  Four little words. Pretty insignificant, right?

  Then why am I having a hard time getting those words out? Waiting for just the right time to ask Ashton the big question made for a very long lunch.

  The time never seemed right. A couple of times I had taken this deep breath, all poised and ready to ask, then we would be interrupted. By the waitress, or the manager asking if the service was good.

  There was even an autograph session. It was small, but it still took up time.

  So here I am in the classic Jag passenger seat. Ashton has just pulled into a parking spot, obviously intending on walking me into my office.

  I’m going to be busy enough trying to explain this almost two hour lunch to Brad.

  I think of Velvet and our friendship.

  “Are you dating Braedyn?”

  He looks at me, his really cute face looking very confused.

  “That’s a very odd answer,” he says.

  “You asked a question?” I ask. I am obviously caught up in my own thoughts.

  “I asked you if you traveled a lot with your job,” he says, turning off the car.

  “Some. Not too much. Mostly at the beginning of the year.”

  “That’s cool,” he replies. “Ready?”

  He gets out of the car and I wait. Momentarily he opens my door, my question obviously forgotten. Do I dare ask him again?

  We walk side by side across the parking lot toward my office building. My heels sound out a sharp stiletto rap, do I, don’t I, do I, don’t I? while Ashton’s cowboy boots bemoan a slow, steady, controlled gait. (Did she ask me a question? I can’t remember.)

  The glass doors are really big and heavy, but Ashton makes the task look easy as he opens them. The air-conditioned air cools my face, but not the burning question in my brain.

  Ashton pushes the up arrow for the elevator which dings immediately as if it is waiting on us.

  We step in and I push the number four.

  The doors close, leaving us confined in a small, dark area with a really ugly rug. I know it’s ugly because I’m staring at it.

  “No.”

  I look up at Ashton.

  “What?” I ask.

  “No. The answer is no, I’m not dating Braedyn.”

  He reaches in front of me and pushes the big red button with the word stop on it.

  We jolt as the elevator shudders to a halt.

  “What about you?” he asks.

  “I’m not dating Braedyn either,” I reply.

  He laughs.

  I’m not trying to be funny.

  “Am I dating you?” he asks.

  My heart stills like the elevator. I just hope it doesn’t stop. (My heart, not the elevator.)

  Everything I’ve been wondering lately has come to this. I’m not sure if there is a right or wrong answer.

  Yes. No.

  It’s beginning to feel stuffy. He doesn’t play fair. His cologne is rocking my world, at the same time his question is rocking my brain. At least he hasn’t just kissed me.

  I look at him. In the eye. My gaze holds onto his. I don’t turn away. He doesn’t turn away. His hazel-green eyes are steady, calm, like he is.

  “Tough question?” he asks, gently wrapping his fingers around my wrist.

  If he only knew.

  Life is short, he’s hot and celebrity baseball players who love their grandmother, go on mission trips and want to name their kid Stoney don’t come along every day.

  “No. It’s not a tough question. The answer is yes. If you ask me out on a date, I’ll go.”

  “Okay, then. I’m asking you out. I have tickets to the All-Star game mid-July. Are we on?”

  The All-star game? Mid-July? I have to wait over two weeks to go out on a date with him?

  And isn’t the game in another city?

  “Wow. You believe in asking out ahead of time? Where is it?”

  “Pittsburgh. We can fly out Tuesday morning, fly back Wednesday morning.”

  My shifting eyes obviously give me away.

  “Separate rooms,” he adds quickly. “It’s all good. Will you go? Please?”

  I can’t think. I really was expecting something more like Can we have dinner tomorrow night? After all it is Saturday.

  But I know I want to go.

  “It sounds great if I can manage another couple of days off work. I’ll have to let you know.”

  “I’m counting you in.”

  While he’s counting me in, I’ll be counting my vacation days.

  He pushes the button and the elevator jerks to a start.

  When the doors open on my floor, he gives me a hug.

  “Remember, Pittsburg. Me and you.”

  “I’m going to try,” I say.

  “I’ll call you,” he says as he gives me the thumbs up. The I’m-awesome signal. Like I could forget.

  I would feel funny giving him the thumbs up, (telling him he’s awesome, also,) so I wave instead. The doors shut. He’s gone. Again.

  But at least this time I have a date.

  Still no phone number but a real date.

  An overnight date.

  My mother is going to kill me.

  I decide to wait up for my mother and talk to her after she comes in from her date. She’s out with Martin, a guy she really likes. This is only the third time, but that’s more dates than she’s got out of one man in a while.

  The last two times she’s gone out with Martin, she’s been in a really good mood when she came home. She’s laughed, joked, acted like the mother I kn
ow and love.

  So my plan is to break Grandma’s news and my news while she’s in a good mood. I know there is a small chance this could backfire and I could throw her into a bad mood. But if that happens, at least it’s late and I can crawl into bed and not deal with her the rest of the night.

  I haven’t talked to Velvet either. While I want to tell her Ashton isn’t dating Braedyn, I don’t want to tell her I’m going on an overnight date with him. And she knows me too well. I can’t hide it from her.

  I asked Brad for the two days off. I made sure I asked right after I turned in a report he wasn’t expecting until mid-week next week.

  He was really pleased about the early report and tried to scowl when I asked him for the days off, but when I told him why I needed them he was all for it. He’s even buying me a disposable camera to take with me. He wants me to get some good pictures.

  He said if I was going with Ashton, I was bound to meet other players. I guess he just wants me to walk around, possibly be introduced to a couple of players then take their picture.

  Somehow I don’t think I’m going to do that, but I’ll see what I can manage.

  The fact that I’m thrilled to be going out with Ashton isn’t relieving the nagging inside my head. The nagging is because I know the people I love aren’t going to be as thrilled about this news as I am.

  My mother won’t because she’s a mother. Velvet already has voiced her opinion and knowing he isn’t dating Braedyn isn’t going to make this weekend look any better in her eyes.

  And Trent. Well. What about Trent? I think he’s not going to be pleased. Probably more because he’s not going than anything else. I don’t know, though. He wasn’t too hyped about Ashton the night of the dinner.

  I wonder if Trent has been reading the tabloids, or the crazy web sites on the internet. Is that where he got the information on Ashton? I hope Trent wouldn’t trust those kinds of sources.

  I hear the garage door opening and moments later Mother is in the kitchen. I get off the couch, not quite sure if I’m prepared.

  It doesn’t matter. The war is about to begin.

  Well, hopefully it won’t really be a war. My strategy is to start out with my news and end up with Grandma’s news.

  I walk into the kitchen and realize immediately my plans have just been changed. Mother doesn’t look so good.

  Her eyes are red and puffy, she has no lipstick on and her hair is tucked behind her ears. Mother’s hair is never tucked behind her ears unless things aren’t going well.