Chapter 2
Zoe took a few practice swings on the third base sideline before the game. It was hotter than Haiti, but she couldn’t wait to play. Their Saturday softball games were just about her only reprieve besides work. Drake’s aunt Rosa watched Mama for her, and smacking a ball around was great therapy.
Sex would be better, but it was too much effort to bother. Flirting, dating, sealing the deal. Who had the time?
Breathing in the scent of fresh cut grass and sunshine, she glanced at the other players warming up. Eye candy, for sure. It was as if being hot were a prerequisite for the firefighters and police officers on the opposing team. She’d grown up with most of them, had even dated a few, but looking was no hardship. Neither team had very many women, and not that she went for that sort of thing, but they weren’t an eyesore either.
Residents were filling the small set of bleachers on either side of the field. In the distance, the base of the Klamath Mountains was a pretty backsplash to Redwood Ridge’s park. The roar of the rocky Pacific coastline hummed in the background. Hotdog and popcorn vendors were busy between bleacher sections.
“Whoa, easy there.”
Zoe caught her bat up short and faced Parker Maloney. The Ridge’s finest PD display right there, and now the sheriff. Dark hair, shocking green eyes, he was built like a rugged cowboy but had the look of a wicked Irish hellion. Next to him was Jason Burkwell of the fire department—a blond, blue-eyed cutie with a jaw full of scruff and a grin that promised fun. His tee was stretched over sculpted manliness she wished she had the inclination to explore. She hadn’t had fun in ages.
She grinned. “Checking out the competition?”
Jason’s gaze slid south over her white shirt, past the quarter-length black sleeves, and kept going to her white capris. “I’ll forfeit if you run away with me. I’d be happy to show you my fire hose.”
Parker shook his head. “Original, man. Real original.”
“Be still my heart.” Zoe waved her hand in front of her face, adoring their teasing banter. They were great guys who’d been in her high school graduating class. Harmless flirting had always been a part of their makeup. “Parker, can we borrow your handcuffs?”
“I think not.”
She frowned. “Sigh. Such a party pooper.”
Jason adjusted his hat. “How’s your mom doing?”
Mood kill. “Not great, but thanks for asking.” A rewind of last night played through her head and she sighed. Drake had been a godsend, not that she’d tell him so. Her lumbar still hurt from the back-versus-book debacle. Mama had one hell of an arm. Book for the win.
“Sorry to hear that.” Jason’s gaze made its way over her shoulder and narrowed. He tilted his head. “Is there a reason Drake O’Grady is shooting daggers our way?”
Was he? Her stupid, stupid heart pounded. It took obscene effort not to turn and look. Interesting development, but why? And if Drake were, say, upset by her chatting it up with the Ridge’s hotties, it would maybe—a little—have her grinning inside.
Idiot, party of one.
“Not a clue.” She hoped her voice sounded as nonchalant as she tried to make it.
“You two aren’t a thing, right?” Jason’s focus remained across the field. “I didn’t know he was ready to date again, but it’s been some time since Heather died.”
“I assure you, we aren’t a thing, and that I’m aware, he’s not seeing anyone.” If Drake were ever ready to meet someone and fall again, he’d go for anyone but her. History and circumstances had already proven that fact.
Parker glanced behind her. “Well, he either very much dislikes us talking or we have a bull’s-eye on our faces.”
There had to be another explanation. She’d probably pissed him off last night or he was put out by her having called in the first place. Drake didn’t care one iota who she dated, hung out with, or talked to.
Then her stomach twisted with another thought. Maybe he felt sorry for her after what he’d seen at her house. Drake loved with his whole self. He didn’t know any other way. Whether it be family or friends, if one were lucky enough to be a part of his inner circle, they were privy to his severely protective and giving nature. No matter their differences, Drake loved her in his own way.
Refusing to focus on the matter, her gaze swept the field and landed on the mound. “Who’s the guy pitching?” She’d never seen him before.
Parker grunted. “Rick Addison. New deputy down from Portland. Bit of a douche if you ask me.”
Zoe leaned on her bat. “I’ll take him down a few pegs when I hit everything he throws.”
“I’ve got a beer with your name on it at Shooters if you do.” Jason crossed his arms. “I don’t care if we lose because of it.”
She shrugged. “You’ll lose anyway.”
“Damn right.” Cade strode over. And speaking of eye candy…
Dark blond hair, gray-blue eyes, and reformed playboy of the Ridge. Or Drake’s little brother, as she referred to him.
He grinned at the guys. “If you’re trying to distract our best player here, it won’t work.” He looked at Zoe. “We’re ready to start.”
Nodding, she waved bye and let Cade lead her away with his arm around her shoulders.
“Still breaking hearts all over town, I see.”
She jabbed him with an elbow. “Someone has to now that you’re married.”
Cade stepped away and whistled for Avery, then asked her to bring Hailey to the field. Hand in hand, Avery stepped off the bleachers and passed her eight-year-old off to him. Hailey squealed and flapped her hands, indicating she was excited. As the girl was a non-verbal autistic, Zoe had learned to read her mannerisms.
Drake leaned on the chest-high chain-link fence separating the field from the dugout bench as if completely unaware anything was going on around him. Forearms braced on the top rail, he watched Zoe head over, eyes hooded and expression blank. The position stretched his jersey across his wide shoulders, narrow waist, and defined biceps. A slight five-o’clock shadow dusted his jaw. Thick black hair poked out from under his cap and eyes the shade of forbidden chocolate trekked her destination until she stood in front of him.
Fifteen years had passed since the dreadful, awful day she’d realized her crush. In that time, he’d dated, married, and buried her best friend. Never so much as hinted he knew Zoe was a female, regardless of whether he considered her an attractive one. One would think she’d have gotten a clue.
In her defense, she hadn’t pined for what could never be, nor what had never been hers in the first place. Back then, she’d cried a couple times over the teenage angst like any proper sixteen-year-old. Alone, of course. No one had suspected her feelings. And in a handful of instances since, she’d snapped the lid tight on any fantasies when she’d caught herself daydreaming.
Damn, the man still made her pulse frantic and her heart trip in rhythm, though. It just wasn’t freaking fair. And why was he staring at her?
Clearing her throat, she glanced behind her at the pitcher’s mound where Cade had Hailey in front of him, ball in hand. “What are they doing?”
“Hailey’s throwing out the first pitch.” His voice was a deep, reverberating rumble that had the capacity to shake her foundation to rubble. He rarely raised it and even more rarely used it, but his tone got her between the ribs every time.
When she faced him again, his gaze was still on her. And, yeah. Something was off about him today. “Is everything okay?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
Maybe because there were upwards of a hundred people in the stands, players on the field, and the team behind him, and all he was doing was watching her. If she didn’t know him so well, she’d swear there was...interest on his part. But that was stupid. Chances were, he was replaying a surgery inside his head.
He jerked his chin toward infield. “Didn’t realize you still hung out with Jason and Parker.”
Oh hell. Had she entered a Dr. Who episode or something?
In response, she walked around the fence and plopped on the bench next to Flynn. Like his brothers, Flynn was an attractive guy with reddish blond hair and hazel eyes. Since the middle O’Grady was deaf, she signed and spoke simultaneously. “That’s so cute they’re letting Hailey throw the first pitch.”
He nodded, grinning. “It was Drake’s idea,” he signed.
He leaned over his other side and gave Gabby a quick kiss. She also worked at the clinic as Flynn’s tech. They’d been dating since this past spring and were so cute together it made Zoe’s teeth ache.
Jealousy, meet thy minion.
She refocused her attention to the mound. With Cade’s help, Hailey brought her arm back and let the ball loose. It sailed wide left of the plate, but made it to the catcher’s mitt without a bounce. The crowd applauded, Avery loudest of all, and Hailey squealed.
Zoe grinned and clapped, pride filling her chest. She may only be an honorary auntie, but that was one great kid.
Gabby jumped to her feet, cheering, her blonde ponytail swinging. “She’s got quite the arm.”
Drake grunted. “We’ll have to recruit her for the team next year.”
When had he sat next to her, darn it? And those black nylon shorts hugging his muscular thighs should be against the law. His forearm brushed hers and she sucked a shallow breath. The heat from his body was twice at hot as the air and his scent rose over that of the park. She could never quite nail what his scent was, but warm male, testosterone, and forbidden fit the bill.
Once the game was finally underway, Zoe relaxed. Their batting rotation catered to their strengths by having two O’Gradys up first, followed by Zoe, and Cade hitting cleanup. A few of the doctors and nurses from urgent care filled the middle lineup with Gabby wrapping it up. Her first time at bat, Zoe struck out, which severely pissed her off, and they took the field.
By the top of the ninth inning, they were down two-to-one and she was considering taking her fist to the pitcher’s face. Parker had been right. The guy was a douche. He’d spent most of the game heckling her team.
Drake was on second base after being walked and Flynn was on first with a single. Two outs. Zoe strode to the plate and took her stance, eyes narrowed on the jerk in question.
Instead of winding up, the pitcher turned to face outfield. “Bring it in, bring it in. Woman at bat.”
Oh hell no, he didn’t.
Drake’s shoulders moved with a sigh as if resigned to a fight breaking out. Flynn merely lifted his brows like the pitcher had fallen out of the stupid tree. The other team said it best when none of them moved an inch, giving Zoe the respect she deserved and Rick-the-Dick pitcher a blind eye.
She was about to show him what a woman and a bat could do to his testicles when Cade’s voice sounded behind her. “Save it for the ball, Zoe. You got this.”
She turned and offered Cade a knowing grin, then took her stance again. The ball sailed right toward her head and she ate dirt. The crowd gasped.
Cade stomped around the fence and Drake shot off second base, rage in both their eyes. But she got up and called them back, refusing to dust herself off. This was a friendly small town softball game, for christsakes. Halfway between second and the mound, Drake froze at her command, fists clenched.
“Let her show him, big brother.” Cade nodded, then Drake and Zoe resumed positions. “Jerk won’t know what’s coming.”
“I’m shaking in my cup,” the pitcher droned.
Zoe rolled her eyes. “That would require you having the goods to wear a cup.”
That had the whole infield laughing and Rick’s jaw clenching. He wound up and let loose.
She swung. Her bat connected, and she knew from impact it was hard enough to bring Drake in to tie the game. Dropping the bat, she shot toward first base as the line-drive sailed past the shortstop and into left field. Drake scored and Flynn rounded third. Zoe tagged first and headed to second. The throw to the plate came late and Flynn slid in, safe.
“Yeah!” From her position on top of the second base bag, she wiped her sweaty brow with her palm and grinned. Her team cheered from the bench and she took a bow.
Leaving shortstop, Jason moved toward her and held up his fist. “Nice hit. I owe you a beer.”
She bumped knuckles with him. “Thank you.”
Rick didn’t say another word, and the other team was unable to score at the bottom of the inning. Accepting the win, they shook hands and collected equipment.
But apparently Rick hadn’t learned his lesson. As he walked past their bench, a bag in hand, he shoulder-checked Cade. “I’ll throw her a real pitch next match.”
Cade tilted his gaze heavenward. “You’re nuts. She bested you. Man up.”
Rick eyed Zoe. “Speaking of nuts, I hear it runs in the family. What’s that they call your mom? Crazy Cat?”
A feral roar in her throat, she launched at him, but Cade caught her mid-flight. “Cool it. He’s not worth it, yeah?”
In the next breath, Jason’s fist collided with the pitcher’s face. He went down, ass over elbow. Huffing, Jason shook out his hand, wiggling his fingers. “I suggest you stay down.”
A crowd was beginning to gather. Murmurs from behind grew louder, and tension from the players on both sides shot cosmic waves into the stratosphere—all directed at Rick.
Zoe shook with rage until she could barely see straight. Cade merely held her tighter to keep her from earning twenty-to-life.
Wiping his lip and face mottled to a shade of tomato, Rick glared at Parker. “I want to press charges. He punched me.”
Parker shrugged, removed his ball cap, and scratched his head. “I’m afraid I didn’t see anything. If there weren’t any witnesses”—he glanced around, but no one spoke up—”it might be a case of your word against his.”
Rick growled. With a slow nod, he got to his feet. “I see how it is here in Podunk. She’s got the sheriff between her legs. Then again, from what I’ve heard, half the department’s been there, too.”
“Son of a bitch.” Drake shoved his way between Jason and Parker, murder in his eyes. Fist connected with face, and the pitcher hit dirt a second time. Drake straightened and rolled his shoulders, breaths heaving. “I believe you were told to stay down.”
Zoe’s jaw dropped in shock. A quick glance at Cade proved he was just as floored by Drake’s actions.
“Well,” Parker said. “I’m afraid I didn’t see that either. Good game, guys.”