“Ty drew that circle himself.”
“And if he tests positive, he faces a suspension.”
“Maybe he’ll learn to play by the rules. Listen, Pace’s retest results came in, inconclusive. Thought you’d want to know, he’s in the clear.”
“Thank God.”
“Jesus Christ, Holly, are you listening to yourself? What’s happened to you?”
She sighed. “I don’t know. No, I do know. I want to do things differently next time. I want to do something softer. Something that helps people.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I mean it. And I want to stay in Santa Barbara, and grow roots.”
“Roots? Are you not a brunette?”
“Roots like a tree, Tommy. A solid, happy, healthy tree. I want a home base, a place of my own to settle down into.”
“Crazy talk, but fine with me. I don’t care where you live.”
“I want that in writing.”
“The crazy-talk part?”
“Tommy.”
“Doll, you can have whatever you want. Just keep writing for me.”
Three days later, Pace took himself to the bullpen to throw, improving his confidence and renewing his hope that he didn’t totally suck. He wasn’t done playing ball. Hopefully he wasn’t done with a lot of things. Or people—like Holly. Turning, he found Red quietly watching him. He looked uncharacteristically solemn.
“Looking good,” Red said.
“Thanks.” They’d been avoiding a real conversation all week, but Pace was done with that. “You saw Holly’s article.”
“Whole world saw it, didn’t they?”
“Is it true?” Pace asked him. “And are you the one supplying Ty?”
A muscle jumped in Red’s jaw, but he said nothing. His damn pride. One of these days he was going to choke on it.
“Jesus, Red.”
“You gonna believe the word of a reporter over me?”
“You didn’t give me any words. I’d love to hear your words.”
“You’ve already judged me. I have no words for you.” And with that, he walked away.
Damn, if Pace wasn’t tired of that. He went home, showered, and called Holly. “Can we talk?”
“I’m in LA.”
“When are you coming back?”
She paused, and his heart dropped. “Are you not coming back?”
“Tomorrow night,” she said.
Ah, hell. “I leave with the team in the morning.” He let out a breath. “When I get back then?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “I’ll be here.”
A sentiment that meant far more than he could have imagined.
Chapter 24
You can’t sit on a lead and run a few plays into the line and just kill the clock. You’ve got to throw the ball over the goddamn plate and give the other man his chance. That’s why baseball is the greatest game of them all.
—Earl Weaver
The Heat went on both the road and a losing streak. Holly watched the games on TV, hoping for glimpses of Pace on the sideline, and for a change in their luck.
She got neither.
She kept busy. She still owed Tommy one more article on her baseball series, and needed to be working up her next series idea, but she was so unsettled and unsure. She couldn’t concentrate on anything. She knew that the guys were still pissed at her, leaving her in a state of . . . suspension. As for Pace, she was even more uncertain. He’d wanted to talk, she just didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing.
“Get a kitten,” was Allie’s suggestion when Holly called.
“A kitten? Are you crazy?” Holly looked around her leased condo. “This isn’t even my place.”
“Sure it is,” Allie said calmly. “You’re happy there. You love Santa Barbara. You love the people. You love it all.”
“I’ve screwed it all up.”
“No, you haven’t.”
Holly opened the sliding back door of the condo and looked out at the Santa Ynez Mountains, the glorious, craggily, beautiful peaks that made her sigh every time she caught a glimpse. She did love it here. So much.
“Get yourself a kitten,” Allie said again. “Make plans. Stick around awhile. Just try it, Hol. There’s more to you than being an investigative secret hound.”
“Yeah.” For the next few days, she thought about little else, especially as the Heat lost four more games in a row.
The press was still clobbering the team. She hadn’t gotten any more death threats, but neither had anyone from the team spoken to her. On the morning of the Heat’s first home game in ten days, and also the poker night event, Holly got up early. The guys had probably gotten home late and she wasn’t sure what that meant for her, having them back in town. They were only going to be in Santa Barbara for one day, and then they were off again on another road trip.
One day.
Having no idea what the day would bring, she killed some time in the grocery store getting some comfort food. On impulse she grabbed a cute little plant from the garden aisle.
Not exactly a kitten, but hey, it was alive.
She went back to her condo, set the plant next to her laptop on her kitchen/office table and opened Word. She looked at her next article—or the blank page masquerading as her next article. Giving up, she closed the document and opened iPhoto instead. The first picture that came up was of her and Pace back in Atlanta. The Heat had just won. Holly was up against Pace, all snuggled in like she belonged there, and he was grinning down at her with an abundance of emotion in his eyes.
“And if he tests positive, he faces a suspension.”
“Maybe he’ll learn to play by the rules. Listen, Pace’s retest results came in, inconclusive. Thought you’d want to know, he’s in the clear.”
“Thank God.”
“Jesus Christ, Holly, are you listening to yourself? What’s happened to you?”
She sighed. “I don’t know. No, I do know. I want to do things differently next time. I want to do something softer. Something that helps people.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I mean it. And I want to stay in Santa Barbara, and grow roots.”
“Roots? Are you not a brunette?”
“Roots like a tree, Tommy. A solid, happy, healthy tree. I want a home base, a place of my own to settle down into.”
“Crazy talk, but fine with me. I don’t care where you live.”
“I want that in writing.”
“The crazy-talk part?”
“Tommy.”
“Doll, you can have whatever you want. Just keep writing for me.”
Three days later, Pace took himself to the bullpen to throw, improving his confidence and renewing his hope that he didn’t totally suck. He wasn’t done playing ball. Hopefully he wasn’t done with a lot of things. Or people—like Holly. Turning, he found Red quietly watching him. He looked uncharacteristically solemn.
“Looking good,” Red said.
“Thanks.” They’d been avoiding a real conversation all week, but Pace was done with that. “You saw Holly’s article.”
“Whole world saw it, didn’t they?”
“Is it true?” Pace asked him. “And are you the one supplying Ty?”
A muscle jumped in Red’s jaw, but he said nothing. His damn pride. One of these days he was going to choke on it.
“Jesus, Red.”
“You gonna believe the word of a reporter over me?”
“You didn’t give me any words. I’d love to hear your words.”
“You’ve already judged me. I have no words for you.” And with that, he walked away.
Damn, if Pace wasn’t tired of that. He went home, showered, and called Holly. “Can we talk?”
“I’m in LA.”
“When are you coming back?”
She paused, and his heart dropped. “Are you not coming back?”
“Tomorrow night,” she said.
Ah, hell. “I leave with the team in the morning.” He let out a breath. “When I get back then?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “I’ll be here.”
A sentiment that meant far more than he could have imagined.
Chapter 24
You can’t sit on a lead and run a few plays into the line and just kill the clock. You’ve got to throw the ball over the goddamn plate and give the other man his chance. That’s why baseball is the greatest game of them all.
—Earl Weaver
The Heat went on both the road and a losing streak. Holly watched the games on TV, hoping for glimpses of Pace on the sideline, and for a change in their luck.
She got neither.
She kept busy. She still owed Tommy one more article on her baseball series, and needed to be working up her next series idea, but she was so unsettled and unsure. She couldn’t concentrate on anything. She knew that the guys were still pissed at her, leaving her in a state of . . . suspension. As for Pace, she was even more uncertain. He’d wanted to talk, she just didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing.
“Get a kitten,” was Allie’s suggestion when Holly called.
“A kitten? Are you crazy?” Holly looked around her leased condo. “This isn’t even my place.”
“Sure it is,” Allie said calmly. “You’re happy there. You love Santa Barbara. You love the people. You love it all.”
“I’ve screwed it all up.”
“No, you haven’t.”
Holly opened the sliding back door of the condo and looked out at the Santa Ynez Mountains, the glorious, craggily, beautiful peaks that made her sigh every time she caught a glimpse. She did love it here. So much.
“Get yourself a kitten,” Allie said again. “Make plans. Stick around awhile. Just try it, Hol. There’s more to you than being an investigative secret hound.”
“Yeah.” For the next few days, she thought about little else, especially as the Heat lost four more games in a row.
The press was still clobbering the team. She hadn’t gotten any more death threats, but neither had anyone from the team spoken to her. On the morning of the Heat’s first home game in ten days, and also the poker night event, Holly got up early. The guys had probably gotten home late and she wasn’t sure what that meant for her, having them back in town. They were only going to be in Santa Barbara for one day, and then they were off again on another road trip.
One day.
Having no idea what the day would bring, she killed some time in the grocery store getting some comfort food. On impulse she grabbed a cute little plant from the garden aisle.
Not exactly a kitten, but hey, it was alive.
She went back to her condo, set the plant next to her laptop on her kitchen/office table and opened Word. She looked at her next article—or the blank page masquerading as her next article. Giving up, she closed the document and opened iPhoto instead. The first picture that came up was of her and Pace back in Atlanta. The Heat had just won. Holly was up against Pace, all snuggled in like she belonged there, and he was grinning down at her with an abundance of emotion in his eyes.
