Timber Creek
Page 5

“Just naturally repellent?”
“Only trying to make you smile.”
She paused, turning slowly. “Honestly?” A wicked gleam had appeared in her eyes. “You really want me to smile?”
“Oh, yes.” He put his hand up in a vow. He was dying to know where she was headed. “Scout’s honor.”
“Then I want you to remeasure the property line.”
“You want me to…what?” It’d taken him a moment to register what she’d said.
“You heard me.”
“This again?” He should’ve known that hoping for anything else would’ve been in vain.
“Yes, this again. This is far from over.”
What did she care about the property line, of all things? “Jack will think I’ve lost it.”
“That’s your problem.”
“Fine. You want me to measure, I’ll come out Saturday with my survey gear.” That property was gorgeous—he dreamed of owning land just like it someday. He’d be happy to spend a summer afternoon trekking in the woods, measuring. “No skin off my back.”
She looked taken aback, and it gave him a flash of satisfaction. “You’ll do it?”
“Happy to. Want to join me? We could take a little skinny-dip in the creek after.”
Her eyes went flat. “What do you think?”
He smirked. “I think I’ll be measuring alone this weekend.”
“That’s right, you will be.”
“Fine, I’ll do it, but it won’t make any difference.”
She huffed—the girl actually huffed—and spun to find a seat in the stands.
“Hey, I was promised a smile.” He took the bleachers two at a time to catch up—the girl had long legs—but he was enjoying the view all the same. “You gonna choose a seat, ’cause I could chase you all day.”
It was true. Ever since high school, she’d been his catnip. And just as in high school, the girl still thought she was better than the rest of them. She had the fancy car, the gym body, and the designer clothes to prove it. He happened to be an accomplished businessman, but she was too caught up in her prejudices ever to see that.
Finally she stopped and sat. “I wish you wouldn’t.”
“No chasing, huh?” He cracked a grin. “I’ll do whatever you say. Just give me that smile.”
What she flashed him was more a teeth-baring than a genuine smile.
He laughed. “Bigger,” he insisted, and she tried to glare, but he saw it wavering.
“I’ll smile as big as you want if you tell me you’re stopping your stupid Fairview project.”
He sighed. “You know I can’t do that.” He plopped next to her and scooted close.
She scooted away. “What are you doing?”
“Sitting,” he said with a smile.
She gestured to the field. “Just go play your game, why don’t you?”
“Seems like you’re the one playing games.” An idea hit him, and before she could snap back, he said, “Funny you should mention playing.” He peered at her feet. “Because I see you’ve got your running shoes on.”
“And?”
His brother Scott shouted at him from the field. “You ask her?”
She inched farther away, looking wary. “Is he talking about me?”
“You’re all I talk about.”
She rolled her eyes. “Spare me.”
He watched her, waiting for her to look back at him. He was a patient man.
Finally she gave him a tentative glance. “Okay, what?”
“We need another player.” He wasn’t lying—they were short a man. Or rather, short a woman. The league had rules about how many women and men there were per team, and Rob Haskell wasn’t the only person who’d bailed on the game; a couple of girls from his nephew’s high school had skipped out as well.
Her eyes widened. “You’re not asking me to play.”
“That’s exactly what I’m doing.”
“I’m not on the team.”
His team had all assembled on the bench below, and they were clearly growing antsy. Shielding his eyes from the sun, Mike Haskell found him and shouted, “C’mon, Jessup. Batter up!”
He glanced at Laura, amused by her look of terror. “Whaddya think?”
She was staring at the field, aghast. “You want me to play softball?” She gave him an incredulous look. “That’s a horrible idea.”
“It’s an inspired idea. Just think, you can work out all your anger on the field.”
“Anger.” She huffed. “You’re the reason I’m angry.”
“Then you can show me what-for on the field.”
“I haven’t played softball since eighth grade.”
“Good. Then you’ll be like a fresh lump of clay.” He couldn’t stop himself from wrapping his arm around her shoulders to give her a squeeze. “All the better to mold you.”
She flinched away. “You are not molding me, Eddie Jessup. Why don’t you ask Sorrow?”
They scanned the field at the same time, finding the youngest Bailey sister. She’d just bought Helen’s kids snow cones, and they were already covered in sugary streaks of electric blue.
He bit back a smile, knowing he had her. “Cool,” he said with a straight face. “You’re right. We’ll have Sorrow play instead, and you can watch Helen’s brood.”
Her flat look told him he had her. “You wouldn’t.”
“Tell you what,” he said seriously. “You play, then tomorrow you come by the job site, and we’ll discuss this problem of yours.”
“Problem of mine? If Sierra Falls is destroyed by some international corporation, it’ll be more than just my problem.”
“Is it really that bad?” He shrugged. “You taking my offer or what?”
When she didn’t answer, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs, watching the other players warm up, making like he didn’t care. He let Laura have her tense few moments of silence.
“Fine,” she said finally. She stood, but instead of edging by him, she made her way down the center of the bleachers. “I’ll play,” she called over her shoulder, “but you’ll pay.”
And pay he did, but not in the way she imagined.
Playing with Laura would be the death of him.
And he wasn’t the only person who’d noticed her in her sassy little short-shorts. After the third inning, he caught up to Jack as they walked from the outfield. Snagging the collar of his brother’s shirt, he said, “Need I remind you, you’re a married man?”
Jack flinched away. “Easy, little brother. I’m married, not blind. Your woman’s something else to look at.”
Eddie grinned—he liked the sound of his woman. He wished. It wasn’t like she was consciously putting on a show or anything, but she was so cute out there, so into the game, jumping up and down as she cheered. He kept catching glimpses of pale belly as she reached her arms up to stretch, her face lit by the sort of smiles he longed to tease from her himself. It was killing him.
And then, after he’d gotten a base hit, he’d caught her staring at him. She’d glanced away quickly, but it’d been enough to tell him that she was as curious about him as he was about her.
It was enough to drive a man to distraction.
To complicate matters was the fact that Eddie was a competitive guy, and their new sheriff, Billy Preston, was turning out to be a surprisingly good athlete. Eddie was determined to be the best man on the field, but it was hard to keep his mind in the game when his eyes kept drifting to Laura.
Paley Pines was at bat, and he forced himself to pay attention. Billy was manning second, and he’d just turned a double play. One more out was all they needed, and Eddie was determined it’d be his out.
He was playing shortstop, and they’d parked Laura in left field—the Paley players weren’t exactly sluggers, and the outfield seemed a safe enough spot for someone who wasn’t dying for action—but that meant he couldn’t watch her. He’d turned once to steal a glimpse, and she’d looked bored out of her mind. She caught him looking immediately, and he swung his head back around, forcing himself to keep his gaze pinned straight ahead.
Was she bored out there? Would she occupy her time by watching him? They sure did seem to catch each other looking a lot. Not that it was anything new—they’d been catching each other looking since puberty. Remembering it now, he wondered how much of his adolescent acting-out had actually been to get Laura’s attention. He readjusted his ball cap, forcing himself not to think about it.
The sharp crack of bat on ball shocked him back into the moment. A hit. He shaded his eyes, jogging backward. It was a pop fly…headed right for Laura. Her expression of sheer terror told him she wasn’t pleased about the development.
Eddie spun and hauled ass into left field.
Laura was backing up, her wide, panicked eyes glued on the ball coming straight for her. She put up her hands, looking like she wanted to duck but was too proud. “Can you—?”
“Heads up.” He flung himself toward her, his body slamming into the dirt, and grinned to feel the satisfyingly sharp slap of the ball in his mitt. He rolled to his feet, certain he’d finally be greeted by her smile. And with the ridiculously athletic maneuver he’d just pulled, he hoped it might even be a fawning and appreciative one.
But when their eyes met, she was colder than ever. “Thanks,” was all she said, and then she strode past him back to the bleachers.
How was it possible she’d gotten even angrier in the past thirty minutes? He hadn’t done anything.
He pulled off his cap, raked a hand through his sweat-dampened hair, then settled the cap firmly back on his head. Softball wasn’t the only game he refused to lose. He jogged to catch up to her. “Why so angry, pretty lady?”