“I’m shocked and hurt and pissed off, but I’m okay. And we’re going to kick ass today to prove it.”
When the announcer called out the starting lineup, the pitcher walked onto the mound.
Pace.
Holly gasped as the home crowd went crazy. “What?” she whispered to Sam. “He’s pitching?”
“Yes.”
He stood on the mound looking tall, tough, and a little lean after all the rehabbing he’d done.
And ready.
He pitched a tight seven innings and left the game with the score tied three all. By the bottom of the ninth, the Heat was down two. Henry, a power hitter, came up to bat with two men on base. He singled.
And then Wade came up to bat. Holly began to sweat. Sam was chewing her nails. “He can do this, he can—”
He hit hard, bringing all three runners home, and the crowd went wild with the win.
The players and management poured out of the dugout, all tumbling over each other right there at the home plate. Holly stood up, watching them from eyes that burned with fierce pride and joy.
After a minute, Pace separated himself from the pack, and with cameramen and reporters dogging him, he climbed the fence, determination all over his face.
Heart racing, Holly stared at him in shock as he leapt lithely to his feet right in front of her.
“Hey,” he said.
She grinned. “Well, hey yourself, and congratulations.”
“Thanks.” He eyed the cameramen trying to follow his route, stymied by the fencing, then looked at her wryly as he rubbed his jaw. “We’ve got maybe ten seconds of privacy, so I’ll be quick. About what I said in the dugout. About what I’d been trying to say since the boys showed early at the park.”
She brought a hand up to her chest to keep her heart from leaping right out. “I . . . I thought maybe it was my imagination.”
“No.”
Around them she was aware of the other spectators, how they were beginning to take notice of them, a few even pulling out their cell phones to take pictures. She didn’t care, and tried to pull him in.
“I’m filthy,” he said, then gave up the fight and hugged her back. “All this time,” he said in her ear, “I thought I was the worldly one, that between the two of us, I was more experienced, that I was waiting for your heart to catch up, but I was wrong.” Pulling back, he looked into her eyes. “Every single moment since you came to Santa Barbara, you’ve schooled me. On top of being smart as hell, loyal, passionate, gorgeous, you are the most amazing woman I’ve ever met.”
Behind them, two camera guys finally made it over the fence. Huffing, they stuck microphones in their faces.
Pace turned his back on them and, still holding on to Holly, looked down in her face. “I fell hard for you,” he said quietly, for her ears only. “And the only thing better than knowing it, is going for it. Going for something other than baseball, something that means even more to me.”
“Me?” she asked with a smile.
“You. Only you. I love you, Holly, so much.”
“Hey.” One of the camera guys behind them pushed his way around to look at Pace in horror. “You’re not retiring, are you? You just got back.”
Pace glanced at him with irritation, and the camera guy lifted his free hand. “Sorry, man. You’re trying to get laid. Carry on.”
Pace looked like maybe he wanted to shove him back over the fence, but then yet another camera guy came running down the aisle and stuck out another microphone. “What’s this about retirement?”
Pace shook his head. “Okay, all of you, back up. I need a second.” He turned back to Holly. “I’m trying to propose here.”
“Propose?” she gasped.
“Yeah. I—oomph,” he let out as she flung herself into his arms.
He smelled like the dust and dirt and sweat that was all over him, and she couldn’t get enough. “Oh, Pace. I don’t need a proposal.”
“You don’t?”
“No. I just need you.”
He let out a slow, heartbreaking smile. “You were right before, you know.”
“When?” she asked, liking to be right, about anything.
“When you said baseball was everything to me. It was, until you. Now you’re my everything.”
“Love the sound of that.” She melted against him and put her mouth to his ear. “I also loved your pitching tonight. It turned me on.”
His eyes heated. His hands tightened on her. They might have been alone as he dropped his forehead to hers. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She put her mouth back to his ear. “Now get me out of here, because you have another perfect game coming. This one private.”
He tossed his head back and laughed out loud as the flashes went off all around them. And that was the shot of him that made it into all the papers the next day, and later into many books on the sport.
And only Holly knew that the special light in his eyes at that moment wasn’t for the game the Heat had just won, but all for her . . .
When the announcer called out the starting lineup, the pitcher walked onto the mound.
Pace.
Holly gasped as the home crowd went crazy. “What?” she whispered to Sam. “He’s pitching?”
“Yes.”
He stood on the mound looking tall, tough, and a little lean after all the rehabbing he’d done.
And ready.
He pitched a tight seven innings and left the game with the score tied three all. By the bottom of the ninth, the Heat was down two. Henry, a power hitter, came up to bat with two men on base. He singled.
And then Wade came up to bat. Holly began to sweat. Sam was chewing her nails. “He can do this, he can—”
He hit hard, bringing all three runners home, and the crowd went wild with the win.
The players and management poured out of the dugout, all tumbling over each other right there at the home plate. Holly stood up, watching them from eyes that burned with fierce pride and joy.
After a minute, Pace separated himself from the pack, and with cameramen and reporters dogging him, he climbed the fence, determination all over his face.
Heart racing, Holly stared at him in shock as he leapt lithely to his feet right in front of her.
“Hey,” he said.
She grinned. “Well, hey yourself, and congratulations.”
“Thanks.” He eyed the cameramen trying to follow his route, stymied by the fencing, then looked at her wryly as he rubbed his jaw. “We’ve got maybe ten seconds of privacy, so I’ll be quick. About what I said in the dugout. About what I’d been trying to say since the boys showed early at the park.”
She brought a hand up to her chest to keep her heart from leaping right out. “I . . . I thought maybe it was my imagination.”
“No.”
Around them she was aware of the other spectators, how they were beginning to take notice of them, a few even pulling out their cell phones to take pictures. She didn’t care, and tried to pull him in.
“I’m filthy,” he said, then gave up the fight and hugged her back. “All this time,” he said in her ear, “I thought I was the worldly one, that between the two of us, I was more experienced, that I was waiting for your heart to catch up, but I was wrong.” Pulling back, he looked into her eyes. “Every single moment since you came to Santa Barbara, you’ve schooled me. On top of being smart as hell, loyal, passionate, gorgeous, you are the most amazing woman I’ve ever met.”
Behind them, two camera guys finally made it over the fence. Huffing, they stuck microphones in their faces.
Pace turned his back on them and, still holding on to Holly, looked down in her face. “I fell hard for you,” he said quietly, for her ears only. “And the only thing better than knowing it, is going for it. Going for something other than baseball, something that means even more to me.”
“Me?” she asked with a smile.
“You. Only you. I love you, Holly, so much.”
“Hey.” One of the camera guys behind them pushed his way around to look at Pace in horror. “You’re not retiring, are you? You just got back.”
Pace glanced at him with irritation, and the camera guy lifted his free hand. “Sorry, man. You’re trying to get laid. Carry on.”
Pace looked like maybe he wanted to shove him back over the fence, but then yet another camera guy came running down the aisle and stuck out another microphone. “What’s this about retirement?”
Pace shook his head. “Okay, all of you, back up. I need a second.” He turned back to Holly. “I’m trying to propose here.”
“Propose?” she gasped.
“Yeah. I—oomph,” he let out as she flung herself into his arms.
He smelled like the dust and dirt and sweat that was all over him, and she couldn’t get enough. “Oh, Pace. I don’t need a proposal.”
“You don’t?”
“No. I just need you.”
He let out a slow, heartbreaking smile. “You were right before, you know.”
“When?” she asked, liking to be right, about anything.
“When you said baseball was everything to me. It was, until you. Now you’re my everything.”
“Love the sound of that.” She melted against him and put her mouth to his ear. “I also loved your pitching tonight. It turned me on.”
His eyes heated. His hands tightened on her. They might have been alone as he dropped his forehead to hers. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She put her mouth back to his ear. “Now get me out of here, because you have another perfect game coming. This one private.”
He tossed his head back and laughed out loud as the flashes went off all around them. And that was the shot of him that made it into all the papers the next day, and later into many books on the sport.
And only Holly knew that the special light in his eyes at that moment wasn’t for the game the Heat had just won, but all for her . . .
