The Change Up (21 page)

She took a deep breath and exhaled, willing her eyes to relax. Her vision hazed. Sounds grew louder. The whistle of the wind. The rustle of the leaves. The creaking of the limbs. The rush of Sam's exhale. And then a flash of white drew her focus higher. But it wasn't the wood thrush. “The ball!” Way too high for either of them to reach.

“Good find,” he said. “Bad break, though. We aren't going to be able to get it down from there.”

“Now what?” She faced him, her mouth inches from his.

There was hunger in his eyes. “I can think of a few things.”

“Do you have a condom?”

He wrapped a loose strand of her hair around his finger. “In my truck.”

“Too far,” she said, her hand already moving up his thigh to the apex of his jeans.

He dropped his mouth to her throat and nuzzled her neck. “So what do you propose?”

“Second base,” she said, moaning when his hand slid inside her blouse to cup her breast. “Maybe third. Right here on this bench.”

He drew her onto his lap, cupped her face in his hands, and said, “You make me want things I never knew I wanted.”

“Like heavy petting on a park bench?”

“Yes. But mostly just you. Anywhere and everywhere.” He paused and smoothed his thumbs over her cheeks, looking deeply into her eyes, creating a whirlwind of emotion deep in her belly. “And I want to play ball again.”

The air whooshed from her lungs, and she almost screamed. “You're going to try out for the team!”

“Sweetheart, you could get me to do anything.”

That was a lot of power to have over somebody, and normally, Rachel wouldn't think twice about it. But everything was different with Sam. She didn't want to hurt him. Unfortunately, life was unpredictable—no matter how hard you planned.

• • •

Monday morning, Sam drove down the dirt road toward the equipment barn with a smile plastered on his face and Sam Hunt blasting on his radio. Luke was already hitching up the trailer, and Sam's bass must've been loud, because Luke made a face wrought with disgust.

“What?” Sam asked innocently when he was out of his truck.

“It's five a.m.”

Acres of grass and trees stretched out around them. “Who's going to care? Dad's sure not sleeping. He's probably got CNN on so loud he couldn't even hear me driving up.”

Luke yanked on the safety chain. “I take it you had a good weekend.”

“Actually, it was a great weekend.”

“Because it involved Rachel? Something's going on between you, and it's more than her being grateful you found her dad.”

There was an accusatory tone in his brother's words that Sam didn't like. He stopped midway to the garage, feeling an angry heat climb up his neck. But before it could reach his face—and his mouth—he decided it wasn't worth an argument. “Yep.”

He was almost safe inside the garage when he heard Luke ask, “Do you think that's wise?”

So much for no argument. He about-faced. “Christ, Luke! I'm thirty-five. She's forty. We're adults. We're single. And you're happily married. What's the fucking problem?”

Luke broke eye contact long enough for Sam to think maybe he'd get an apology. “She's … I don't know,” Luke said. “She's not your type.”

“I didn't know I had a type. I haven't exactly been looking.”

“Well, let me tell you what type you should be looking for. It's sweet and uncomplicated. Like Grace.”

Sam groaned. He'd dated Mandy's friend Grace for a couple months last year. She'd hung on his every word, even wanted his approval when it came to ordering at restaurants. “I'm not you, man. I go for something a little more exciting.”

Luke flinched, and before Sam could tell him that wasn't a hit on Mandy, Luke asked, “So it's just …” He cleared his throat. “Sex?”

“Are you mad because we had sex with the same woman?”

“No. Not at all. I never had sex with Rachel,” Luke said awkwardly. “We were … I had planned to”—he fidgeted uncomfortably—“the night she broke up with me.”

Though Sam knew it shouldn't matter, that bit of information made him very happy.

“But listen, man. If all she had to do was sleep with you to get you to play ball again, I'm worried.”

Sam narrowed his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“I know you played for Ian's team. I also know you're trying out for the Aces.”

“So what?” Sam shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged.

“What about the business? What about Dad? When were you going to tell him?”

“I haven't even made the team, yet. But when I do, we'll sit down and figure this out together. I'll delegate when I'm away, and I'll be here when the team plays at home. I can do anything and everything.” Sam knew his mother would agree.

Luke snickered. “Jesus, she must've been one hell of a lay to get you to buy that crap. Life doesn't work like that, Sam. You have to make responsible choices. You can't just pick up and leave when you have obligations.”

Anger heated Sam's blood. So this was what his seemingly affable brother had been holding in all these years? The idea that Sam was
still
irresponsible. There'd been hints of that opinion when they'd been kids, and then again when Sam had chosen baseball over college, but after their mother had died and Sam had come home, he'd thought he'd done a damn good job of growing up and taking life seriously. Maybe even too seriously. And for what? So Luke could treat him like this. “Fuck you,” Sam said, and he headed for the garage.

“Wait,” Luke said. “I'm sorry. Shit!” The expletive reverberated in the early-morning quiet. “I'm saying that way too much lately, but I
am
sorry.” That got Sam to stop. He didn't turn around, though, until Luke said, “I'm not trying to be a dick. I swear. It's just …” He shrugged and shook his head. “I like having you here, man. Things have been good. Really good. I don't want you running off to Philadelphia or moving across the country to play ball again. It's selfish, but it's true.”

Sam exhaled his anger. “I'm not going anywhere, Luke. Maybe a couple of road trips a month, but we're grown men. We can handle that, can't we?”

“Yeah, but can you handle it if baseball ends badly again? You forget I was the one who was here after you quit playing the first time. I saw what it did to you. I even tried to talk you into going back, thinking it would help. Remember? But you said you just wanted to move on and get past it, and that's exactly what you did—until Rachel rolled into town. I don't know. Something about it worries me. You just changed your mind awful damn quick, which means she must've been pretty damn persuasive, and that makes me think she knew what she was doing all along.”

“You're paranoid.”

“I'm practical. What's that saying about a tiger not changing its stripes? Look, I'm telling you, Rachel has always had a complicated agenda. Trust me. She lives and dies by her daddy's grand plan.”

So what? Sam still didn't see how that mattered. “Does it make you feel any better to hear I don't give a fuck about their grand plan? I'm only after her for the fun of it.”

“You say that now, but later …”

Sam only had now. He wasn't going to worry about later. Unless later involved Rachel naked in his bed. That was the kind of later he could worry about all day long. But first, he had to set his brother straight on this. He was glad they'd talked some of this out, but the Rachel that Luke remembered wasn't necessarily the same woman Sam knew now. “Do you remember how I tried to come between you and Rachel back in high school?”

Luke shrugged like maybe he didn't.

“Well, I do, and I remember you telling me to back off, because you liked her and she liked you, and I was too young to understand something like that. You used to tell me I was too young for things all the time.” Sam still felt the sting of how inconsequential those words had made him feel. The hurt made his spine steel. “Well, I'm grown up now. So
you
need to be the one to back off where Rachel is concerned.”

Sam could handle Rachel, baseball, and the business. He would handle every damn thing and prove his brother wrong.

The next week and a half flew by in a blur of ticket sales, marketing meetings, stadium preparations, and personnel introductions. Mark Olean still couldn't pull himself away from whatever crisis was keeping him in Minnesota, so Rachel—with her father by her side whenever possible—acted as general manager and met with the newly hired coaching staff. They seemed like knowledgeable, likeable men who had winning on their minds. Sam's stamp of approval had resulted in some great staffing for the Aces.

Sam
. Thoughts of him were never far from her mind. He'd been an integral part of the last ten days. His fun, his games, his laugh, his body. All distractions, for sure, of which she was taking full advantage. But by the end of next week, the roster would be settled, Mark would be in Arlington, and Rachel would be back in Philadelphia. She ignored the irrational disappointment that arose when she thought of that deadline.

The desk phone buzzed, and Adele Packer, the newly hired secretary to the general manager, said, “Rachel, there's a Mr. Schumer on line one. He asked to speak to you directly.”

Rachel had talked to so many people during the last several weeks, it didn't surprise her she didn't recognize the name. “Rachel Reed,” she said after pressing the button for line one.

“Rachel, hi, this is Mike Schumer. I represent a Midwest investing conglomerate that has shown interest in the Arlington Aces baseball team. You're the broker, correct?”

For some reason, there was a flash of panic, but she managed an even, “I am.”

“Excellent. My clients are involved in racing and boxing, and they're very serious about moving into baseball. Could we schedule a time for a more detailed discussion? We would also like to see the operation in person.”

Where was the spark that normally ignited a blaze of focused adrenaline whenever Rachel had a credible bite on a major property? She had no clue, so she faked it, enthusiastically pawning Mr. Schumer off on Adele for scheduling purposes. Then, Rachel sat back in her chair and stared out the picture windows at the pristine field below her. She should've gotten the name of the investment group. She should be researching them right now. Instead, she was thinking about pouring a fresh cup of coffee and taking a walk down to the field, where she could sit on the dugout roof in the sunshine and clear her head.
Awake and alive.

The phone buzzed again. “Mark Olean is on line one.”

Rachel exhaled. “Thanks, Adele. Did you get the meetings set up for Mr. Schumer?”

“Yes, the phone call is tomorrow at three, and as long as that goes well, they will be in town April 27. That was the soonest they could be here, and since that's your last day on the schedule, I figured you would rather squeeze them in than come back to Arlington a week later.”

April 27 was also the last day of tryouts. Somehow it seemed smarmy to be potentially selling the team the same day a whole slew of guys would be signing on. “Okay. Thanks.”

“Don't forget Mr. Olean on line one,” Adele said.

Hopefully he was calling to say he'd be on the next plane. “Mark, how are you?”

“I've been better.” She could tell by the tone of his voice that getting on a plane was not in his near future. “I gotta be honest here. I haven't given details up to this point, because it's killing me to even talk about it. My daughter was recently diagnosed with Hodgkin lymphoma.”

“Oh, no!”

“She's a strong kid, stronger than her dad, that's for sure. I thought maybe things would be better by the start of the season down there, but it's not looking like that's going to happen, and … well, an opportunity has come up for me to coach at the college level here, which means I can be closer to my family while still providing for them. I'm sorry to do this to you.”

“I'm sorry, too,” Rachel said. “You were our first choice, but we understand. Your family will be in our thoughts and prayers, and if there's anything we can do, let us know.”

“Thank you, Rachel, and good luck. I'll be rooting for the Aces.”

After she hung up, she banished her growing panic and opened the file containing the final ranking of applicants for the GM job.
Contact the second choice. Get his ass in here ASAP.
But the second choice hadn't been a unanimous decision. In fact, the second choice hadn't been on Rachel's father's list at all. Rachel had plugged the name into the spreadsheet only after Mark Olean had been hired and after hearing it from Sam and doing some research that revealed Benny Bryant was in the market for a GM position. It would mean the world to Sam to have this guy involved with the team.

Grabbing her purse from under the desk, Rachel let Adele know she was going to be out of the office for a couple hours, then she headed home to talk to her father. When she walked into the kitchen, she found her parents baking cookies and had to do a double take.

Danny Reed had never lifted a finger to do anything but eat and drink in this kitchen. Today, he was wearing a floral apron.

“You're just in time to test the first batch,” her mother said. “They should be cool enough.”

A rack of uniformly sized chocolate chip cookies graced the marble countertop.

“Rachel!” her father said in a booming voice that didn't quite sound like him. “Grab an apron and you can help.”

Surreal.
These personality changes were almost harder to take than the lapses in memory. “I can't, Dad. I'm working. I actually need to talk to you about work.”

“Try a cookie, dear,” her mother said.

Rachel sighed, grabbed a cookie, and took a bite just so they could hopefully move on. “It's good,” she said as she chewed, tasting warm chocolate and hints of vanilla. “Very good.”