Clover glanced down at her khaki shorts and a white T-shirt with the Redrocks logo on the front. She’d found the shirt at a department store and paid full price, breaking two of her rules.

The first rule she’d broken was to never pay full price for a piece of clothing—that was a waste of money. Tons of cute clothing ended up on the sale racks or at the secondhand shop, and frequenting those locations had kept her budget in check.

The second rule was that she didn’t own anything white. She preferred darker colors that hid stains and washed well. In her head, only rich people wore white because they could afford to replace their clothing often.

She’d gone right ahead and broken the rule because she wanted a Redrocks shirt so much her belly ached at the thought of walking away without it. Her team pride grew in direct proportion to the games she’d attended last week. Which was silly, considering they lost. However, the losses fueled her respect for the team. They didn’t give up. They didn’t go home with their tails between their legs. They ran onto the field at the beginning of all nine innings and did their best. For that, she would cheer for them until the last out. If the players believed they could do it, then the fans needed to stand behind them.

The other reason she’d bought the shirt, the reason she wasn’t willing to broadcast, was that it reminded her of Dustin. The moment her hand brushed the logo, his soft smile and penetrating green eyes filled her with warmth. It was all she could do not to wear the shirt every day he was out of town. Saving it for their date was like saving a piece of chocolate cream pie for a treat after work.

“Nice shirt.” Dustin smiled at her as he parked in the players’ lot at the stadium.

“Thanks.” She grinned, looking down. Her nerves were bouncing into one another. For the last four days, she’d ignored all the flutterings in her stomach when her phone chirped, indicating a text from him. Of course she’d answered the texts, but she had no idea what she was doing or how to flirt electronically, so she kept it simple. Which, she reasoned, was better than making a fool of herself.

See? Denial.

She chose to focus instead on what to wear to a home run derby party. Dustin said it would be in the stadium, so she’d dressed for a warm night. Maddie insisted on loaning her a pair of red wedges with a cork heel. They were kind of sassy and made Clover’s legs look long and lean, dressing up the simple shorts and tee.

Dustin came around and opened her door for her. He’d done the same thing when he picked her up at her apartment. She could hardly believe she’d given him the address, considering the fact that she was the queen of caution when it came to the men she dated.

Clover blushed both times he opened her door for her, because his act of service meant something to her. She had two perfectly good arms and could open the door herself. But Dustin’s desire to do something for her, even a small something like opening her door, made her feel special.

They made their way into the building through a small, nondescript door. The hallway was painted cream, and the concrete floor was stained dark. Their footsteps echoed, his louder than hers.

“Since you’re such a big fan …” He tugged on the hem of her T-shirt, causing butterflies to flap in her tummy. “I thought you’d get a kick out of this.” He pushed open two metal doors painted green and stepped to the side to allow her to go first.

Clover fisted his sleeve. “This is the locker room?!” She covered her mouth with her free hand and bounced up and down.

He laughed. “The one and only.” He cupped her elbow and brought her inside. “Go ahead, check it out.”

She grinned as she took in the nameplates, the uniforms hanging with their numbers facing out, the gear so neatly arranged on the shelves. Some guys had body spray or batting gloves in their space. Cleats were tucked neatly in the bottom of the lockers.

She sniffed, expecting to smell sweat and dirt, but all she got was cleaner and a lingering fresh-paint smell. Bouncing, she handed Dustin her phone. “Take my picture.” She ran over to the huge Redrocks logo on the wall and struck a pose.

Dustin snapped the picture and then came over. “Selfie too.” He put his cheek next to hers, his skin all smooth and intoxicating. Her eyes fluttered shut out of the pleasure of having him close. He smelled clean and manly, and she had to concentrate to keep her eyes from drooping shut out of the sheer pleasure his nearness stirred inside.

This was the closest he’d gotten today. They were sort of starting fresh since her texts had been so sloppy. She’d even asked Maddie for help. Her roommate took one look at the phone and tossed her hands in the air. “You’re the worst texter ever.”

Clover didn’t argue.

That was probably why Dustin was holding himself back today. She could feel the void between them and wanted it to go away.

The phone made the pretend noise of a camera lens. The sound echoed in the large, empty room.

Her eyes popped open. “Can we do that again? I think my eyes were closed.”

“Sure.” Dustin held up the phone, and this time Clover held her breath so she didn’t float away on his soapy, sporty, manly smell.

The picture turned out much better. She smiled down at the screen. No matter what happened between her and Dustin, she would treasure this photo. Baseball had given her a gift—the chance to see herself in a new light. For that reason, the sport had won her heart forever, and even if Dustin drove her to insanity, the chance to see the inside of the Redrocks locker room was a gift she would never wish away.

He tugged at her pocket. “Come on—party’s this way.”

She tripped after his cocky half smile. In a way, she envied him the chance to be part of a team, to have a jersey with his name and number on the back that matched 24 other jerseys.

They headed for another green door, this one only big enough for one person to go through at a time. Clover bit her lip as they emerged into the shaded daylight in the dugout. The red plastic bench stretched out to her right and an empty bat organizer was on her left. She wondered where they kept the bats when there wasn’t a game. The thought was there and then it was gone as her eyes took in the wonder that was an MLB field. The whole field, in all its green grass, red dirt, and white baseline wonder, lay before them. A small gasp escaped her lips.

Dustin grinned. “Welcome to Redrocks Field.”

“It’s smaller than it looks on television.” Though she’d seen the field from the stands, being on the edge of it, the slightly sweet, earthy smell of the grass filling her senses was a whole different experience.

He laughed and took her hand, sending funny feelings to her lower belly. They felt like the sound of water bubbling in a mountain stream. “Wide-angle lenses.”

She stood there, not quite daring to go up the three steps—it was like stepping into a stranger’s home.

Blankets and specialty chairs with rounded legs dotted the grass. Players and their families mingled. Two little boys—friends, not brothers—blew bubbles and laughed as they floated away. Their parents talked, glancing at the two of them periodically.

The team owner, Harper Wolfe, was stunning in her white pants and red blouse. She could wear white pants to a party on a lawn and probably come away stain free. Coach Wolfe sat with his arm behind her, his attention on his teenage son sharing their blanket and talking with both his hands.

The home run derby preshow was on the big screen, the sound coming over the announcer’s speakers. It wasn’t so loud that people couldn’t talk over it, but it was loud enough that she didn’t have to strain to hear.

Clover recognized the faces and sometimes the build of the players, but there were so many more people she didn’t know. A general unease gurgled up, and she tightened her hold on Dustin’s hand, needing something solid to keep her anchored. The blood drained from her face, leaving her cheeks cold.

Dustin glanced down at her and did a double take. “Whoa.” He guided her to the bench. The bench where the players sat during the game. Her hands brushed lightly against the smooth surface. If she wasn’t already about to faint, she would have swooned.

Dustin squatted in front of her. “Are you okay?” He brushed the hair off her forehead and tucked it behind her hear. His touch was so gentle, it was all Clover could do not to lean into him. He smiled. “Are you going to faint?”

“I don’t think so.” She took in a big breath.

“Man, you are a fan.” He continued to run his fingers down her cheek and caress her face.

“It’s not that.” Clover swallowed. “I have a hard time with social … things.” She laughed at herself. “It sounds so stupid.”

Dustin’s hands paused for a brief moment. “You were fine at the club.”

She rubbed her lips together, thinking of that long-ago night in Vegas. The longer they sat here, with his hands on her face, the more heated she became and the faster the blood pumped through her system. If he kept this up, she’d be able to sprint to center field and back without breaking a sweat.

“No pressure.” She groped for the right words. “No one expected me to be charming or even pretty. I was a face in the crowd. But here …” She waved her arm towards the field. “People are going to know my name, and they’ll look at me, with you.” She motioned to him.

Dustin dropped his hands to either side of her on the bench. “Do you want to leave?” The lines in his face spoke to his sincerity. For her, he would walk out that door and not even worry about leaving.

Clover shoved his chest. “Stop being so nice. It makes me feel bad.” She clasped her hands in her lap. Dustin’s chest was firm and well-shaped, and she wanted to explore those shapes. Now was neither the time nor the place. Maybe she should sit on her hands.

Dustin’s smile sparked with mischief. “Would you feel better if I threw a head of lettuce at you? Or ordered you one of everything on the menu?”

Clover nodded in mock seriousness. “Yes. I think that would help.”

Dustin dipped his chin to make her look into his eyes. “I can’t say that they’re all good people. I don’t know them all personally. But I can promise not to leave your side.”

Clover searched for the truth of his words in his gaze. She wanted to believe him, wanted so much to have someone promise he wouldn’t leave her. The words were like forbidden wishes. Pastor Paul once said— during a funeral, no less— that no one can promise to never leave us. Even if we pledge our lives, one day, we will die, and that’s not in our hands. The key is to trust in the Lord. What we need to do in this life is to love people while they are here, and then love them even when they move on— it didn’t matter in what way— and allow others to do the same.

It was the one statement she had disagreed with him about. Saying those words and vowing to be with someone should be a promise you keep. Yes, the Lord had the corner on separation in death, but people have the ability to choose to love the person they are with. Her mom could have made that choice and didn’t. Her father might not have ever had a choice— who knew if Rainbow even told him she was pregnant? But to hear Dustin say he wouldn’t leave her side, even if it was for an evening, was like cool aloe gel on her blistering nerves.

She tugged at the front of his shirt. “Promise?”

Dustin captured her hand and slowly threaded his fingers with hers. “I won’t let go unless you do.”

She nodded and got to her feet, feeling stronger with her hand in his. They walked onto the field, and she took a deep breath of fresh air. The game-night smells of popcorn and sticky drinks were absent. In their place was the sweet desert air and Dustin.

He tugged her toward the buffet tables. “I’m starving.”

Clover managed to keep up with his long strides even as she stuffed her insecurities down deep. She’d come to spend time with Dustin, and if he was the only person she spoke to that whole night, then she’d be happy.