Counting On It (Hearts for Ransom Book 1) (3 page)

“Hey, Taylor, your cell’s ringing!” Shortstop Colton Rennard called out to Logan from the truck.

Logan stopped cranking the boat onto the trailer and turned to him. “Just take a message for me, would you?” They had been fishing since flippin’ five o’clock that morning, thanks to Jesse’s blasted enthusiasm, and he just wanted to get the boat on the trailer and haul it back to camp.

He could hear Colton’s Georgia accent as he spoke on the phone and looked up to see his dark blonde head bobbing up and down. Didn’t they teach folks how to use the phone in Mabel, Georgia? If not, the man had lived in Indiana for nearly five years—long enough to know the caller couldn’t see him nodding.

“Man, you hafta take this. It’s Madison.” Outstanding. Al Madison was the Slammers’ coach. He knew the guys were camping and had given them his blessing, telling Logan he would have joined them himself if he could have gotten away from work. They only had a little longer than two weeks before practice officially began and the season got underway. Not to mention, it had been unbelievably difficult for all nine of the men to be off work at the same time to come. What could Al want?

“Can you get this?” he asked Bogard Daniels, the giant, black-haired first baseman. He and his crew already had their boat on its trailer and out of the water.

“I’ll help him,” the league’s record-holding base stealer, second baseman Brody Gaines volunteered. With his blonde hair and blue eyes, he was a female fan favorite.

Leaving Bo and Brody to get the boat onto the trailer, Logan strode to the truck and took the phone Colton was holding out.

“This better be good,” he greeted Al.

“Taylor, we have a situation here.” Madison’s voice was uncharacteristically brisk. The owner and manager of Madison’s Meat Market was one of the kindest men Logan knew—at least off of the diamond. It must be important or he wouldn’t have called.

“What’s that?”

“Sam Haynes.” He owned Sloopy’s Bar and Grill and was the team’s sole sponsor. Logan was liking this call less and less.

“Okay?” Was he going to have to pry it out of Al’s mouth?

“He’s worried about the team’s publicity.”

“What publicity?” Logan was definitely confused about that one. The most controversial thing any of them had done was when Mason had unknowingly—he claimed—hooked up with the mayor’s married niece, but he was pretty sure that was water under the bridge.

“Exactly,” the coach responded. “According to Haynes, nobody knows we’re out there playing, and the only reason he sponsors us is to drum up business for the bar and grill. The way he put it was that we’re not serving our purpose.”

Logan suddenly had a vision of his likeness plastered on a “Sloopy’s Bar and Grill” billboard. It wasn’t pretty. “What exactly is he talking about?”

“He wants you guys to get involved in some charity work or something. Taylor, he’s already signed the whole lot of you for a two-week stint.” Al sounded as frustrated as Logan felt.

“Does he know how hard we’ve worked to get these few weeks off? I shut down my construction business, for cryin’ out loud. And you know the guys who don’t work for me had to bust their chops to get off. We’ve been looking forward to getting away from everything.”

Al was quiet for a minute before speaking softly. “Logan, if you guys don’t do this, he’s pulling the plug. He won’t sponsor the team anymore.”

Logan’s first reaction was to say “let him,” but then he realized they would never be able to drum up another sponsor this close to the season. The team wouldn’t exist.

“What do we have to do?” He could see it now. All nine of them walking along highways and interstates, picking up trash, cameras flashing. That would make splashy headlines. “Sloopy’s Slammers aren’t Slobs!” He snorted.

“You guys were planning on leaving Boone’s on Saturday and heading down to Lake of the Ozarks for the next couple of weeks, weren’t you?”

Logan sighed. “Yes. I take it our plans are changing.” His jaw clenched as he thought about Sam Haynes. “Just what do we have to do, Al?”

“Stay right where you are for the next two weeks. There’ll be a busload of boys arriving on Sunday. Each one of you has been assigned to a kid, and you’re going to be their role models while you’re there.”

Kids? He didn’t know anything about kids. And role models? None of them were saints, but he shuddered to think of what Mason or Jacob Landon, their womanizing right fielder, would teach boys. He snorted again. “Coach, I think Haynes may be suffering from the onset of dementia or something.”

“Hey, I’m the choir, preacher,” his coach told him, “but it’s a done deal. A reporter and photographer from the Ransom Razor will be there following your every move.”

Logan was picturing his steel-toe work boot making direct contact with Sam Haynes’ butt. That would make a good picture. “What do you want me to do?”

“I just need you to tell the rest of the guys. Then sit tight.” Relief was evident in Al’s voice.

Logan had a brainstorm. “Coach, we can’t stay. Some of us only brought enough food to last us a few days, and we’ll run out of clean clothes. We were stopping at home on our way to the Ozarks.” Logan grinned. “He’ll just have to find another way for us to get some good publicity.” Maybe the billboard wouldn’t be
that
bad. Brody could pose for it. That’d at least drum up some female business for Sloopy’s.

A loud sigh emanated from the telephone. “I tried that, too, Taylor. He’s already made arrangements for enough food for you guys and your…your little brothers…to be sent. And you’ll have to wash your clothes. There’s some kind of building there that houses some washers and dryers for campers to use. It’s all been arranged through a church and with the camp’s owner.” He paused. “I’m sorry, Taylor, but like I said, it’s a done deal.”

Logan bit back the colorful language he wanted to spout. It wasn’t Al’s fault, and there was nothing he could do about it. “Okay, Al, but I still think Haynes is a few French fries short of a Happy Meal.”

“Just have anybody who refuses to cooperate, call me. I’ll back you up.”

Just flippin’ outstanding. Logan had to be the one to tell eight men who had closed up shop or hired extra help that they were not only giving up their trip, they were playing big brothers to kids! “I’ll take care of it.” When all was said and done, they were a group of good guys who loved to play ball. They’d do what they had to.

“Knew I could count on you. Remember, you guys are doing this for publicity, so be on your best behavior. We don’t want anything negative to come out of this and bite us on the butt.”

Logan wouldn’t mind if some rampaging animal bit Haynes on the butt. “I’ll talk to you later, Coach.”

He disconnected the call and put the phone in his jeans’ pocket. How should he do this? One at a time? A few at a time? No. He’d wait until they were gathered for their War Zone game that evening and just announce it. It would be like pulling a bandage off. Do it fast and get the pain over with.

Emily had just taken her last bite of the tuna salad sandwich she’d made for her lunch when someone beat on her door. If it was Logan or that other buffoon, she was going to throw something at him. Something hard. Where did her mom keep the cast iron skillet?

She cautiously swung the door open and was nearly knocked off of her feet by the small, blonde tornado that launched herself onto Emily.

“Miss me?” Abigail Michaels, Emily’s best friend since kindergarten, asked after she finally let go of Em and stepped past her into the motor home.

“What are you doing here?” Emily was always happy to see Abby.

“Aaron called and told me you needed some backup for the next couple of weeks. I had some vacation time coming, so I took it and here I am!” With her short blonde curls, bright blue eyes, and petite 5’1” frame, Abby had always been called “cute.”

“I can’t believe it.” Emily took a step back and did the silly happy dance the two of them used to do in school. “I could kiss Aaron.” She wouldn’t be the lone woman amidst a sea of male testosterone. She’d have an ally.

“So, how’s it going so far?” a slightly more sedate Abby asked as she plopped onto the sofa.

The night before and today crashed into Emily. “You’ll never guess who’s here.”

“Who? Somebody famous?” Abby leaned forward, eager to find out.

“Yeah,” Emily answered dryly. “Somebody famous for being a pain in my posterior.”

Comprehension slowly dawned on Abby’s face and her button nose wrinkled with distaste. “He isn’t. Tell me Logan Taylor isn’t camping here.”

Emily sank down beside her friend. “Not only is he here, he immediately started pestering me as soon as he found out I’m the campground host.” A shiver ran up her spine. “He even told one of his friends that he and I are together so the other guy wouldn’t take advantage of poor little old me.” Her green eyes flashed with anger.

“He what?” Abby’s brows shot up.

“Exactly my reaction.” Emily shook her head. “If I need protection from anybody here, it’s him.”

Abby leaned back and gave her a speculative look. “Maybe it’s time for you two to end your feud.”

Emily couldn’t believe her ears. “Feud? What feud? It takes two sides to have a feud, and I didn’t do anything to him while we were in school. He’s always gone after me. He put paint in my hair, glue on my chair…do I really have to remind you?”

“We’re all adults, though,” Abby argued. “I’m sure he wouldn’t do anything like that now.”

“No. He’d probably come up with something a lot more creative.” Why was her friend taking Logan’s side? Abby had been there and witnessed the torture he inflicted on Emily. She couldn’t keep the hurt out of her voice. “Why are you talking like this, Abby?”

Abby gave her a quick hug. “I’m sorry, Em. I didn’t mean to sound like I’m making excuses for him. It’s just always puzzled me, though. Why wouldn’t he leave you alone? There has to be a reason.”

Emily felt better. “We’ll probably never know.” She remembered what he’d said earlier. “He actually asked me to bury the hatchet. Of course that was right before he announced we were going to be a couple.”

Abby rolled her eyes.

“Enough about Logan.” Determination shone on Emily’s face. “He’s leaving Saturday. I can avoid him until then.”

Abby let her change the subject. “So, tell me about the next two weeks. Aaron just told me I’d be helping you with a group of guys in a big-brother type program. What are we going to have to do?”

“I already made sure the walk-in cooler and freezer are both running.” Boone’s largest pavilion was sometimes rented for reunions or other celebrations, and Aaron had installed both appliances in order to offer his customers a unique service. It had increased the number of reservations exponentially. “The only other things we have to worry about are making sure they’re set up for group activities. You know what a stickler Aaron is for using each area for what it’s designed for.” She grinned at Abby. “I’m just so glad you’re here. I really dreaded being the only female.”

“We’ll make it fun,” Abby declared. “And who knows, Em? There might even be a keeper among those men who are coming. I don’t know about you, but I haven’t been on a decent date in months.”

Emily shifted uncomfortably. “You know I’ve been too busy at the hospital to even go on a date. And during the two weeks I’ve been here, the only single men I’ve met have been under the age of twelve.” They both giggled, but then Emily sobered. “Unless you count the eight guys Logan is with.”

“Eight guys?” Abby’s mouth dropped open. “Nine guys are camping together? What’s up with that?”

“I guess they’re some kind of softball team. The Sluggers or something. I’ve never heard of them before.” Emily shrugged.

Abby’s eyebrows shot up so high they were nearly invisible beneath her curls. “The Slammers? Sloopy’s Slammers? They’re here?”

There was that ridiculous name again. “I take it you’ve heard of them.”

“I love them. My favorite player is Brody Gaines. He plays second base, and he’s stolen more bases than any other player in the whole state.” If she became any more excited, she was going to levitate. “And hot—he has blonde hair and the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. I’d let him steal my bases anytime he wants!” She finally took a breath. “Please tell me he’s here.”

Emily shrugged. “I’ve only met one other guy besides Logan. His name is Jason or something.”

“Mason Wright.” Abby was downright ecstatic. “Oh my gosh, Emily! If Logan and Mason are both here, I bet it’s the entire team. That means Brody is here.” She started to stand up. “Let’s go see.”

“What?” Emily put her hand on her friend’s arm. “Do you just intend to march over to their campsite and see if he’s there?”

Abby stopped for a moment, then shrugged. “Works for me.” She stood the rest of the way up.

Emily stayed right where she was. “Then you’ll have to go alone. I’ve already been hit on by this Mason Wright guy and harassed by Logan. Abby, I had to go over there last night and tell them to turn off the grossest looking video game you could ever imagine. I can’t very well just stroll over and strike up a conversation with them now.”

Abby gave her an assessing look. “Okay,” she finally agreed. “I’m going to get the stuff out of my car, and then we’ll take care of campground chores.” Emily sighed with relief. Too soon. “As long as you promise me we’ll take a walk later on—a walk that takes us close enough to their campsite that I can see if Brody is there.”

She should have known that Abby wouldn’t have given in that easily. Her best friend would be like a dog after a bone now. If Brody Gaines were at that campsite, he’d better be prepared. Hurricane Abigail would strike before he left.