Getting Wound Up: A Sapphire Falls/ Love Between the Bases Novel-- PART ONE (5 page)

But the radar gun scout was now saying something else, something that made the head scout cock his head. He turned to Eli.

“Number fifty-two, you get one more pitch. You got anything we haven’t seen yet?”

For a moment Eli didn’t understand. Then it sank in. They were asking
him
for a pitch selection.

“Knuckleball,” he croaked, almost afraid to say the word aloud. “I got a pretty good knuckleball.”

“All right. Let’s see it.”

Be a good one
, Eli prayed as he settled the ball between his thumb and the first joints of his index and middle finger. He loved this pitch, because it did whatever the hell it wanted, moved up and down, all over the place, completely unpredictable.

Kind of like life, in his experience. One minute you were in college, the next your father had a stroke. One minute you were on the way to baseball stardom, the next you were ringing up a case of flat-head screws. Life was a freaking knuckleball, and the more you accepted that, the better off you’d be.

Even now, his knuckleball might decide to desert him. You just never knew.

But it didn’t. Instead, it danced and fluttered its way to the plate with its usual crazy randomness, then dropped into the pitcher’s glove smack in the lower third of the strike zone. Confounding and unhittable.

“Try that one again,” called the scout.

So Eli did it again. Different crazy dance, same conclusion: strike. He heard a low whistle coming from someone, and a “what the hell” from someone else.

“Again.”

He’d definitely gone past his fifteen pitches, but who was he to object? He threw several more knuckleballs, until the scouts were satisfied and nodded him off the mound.

No one said much to him as he walked off the diamond in a daze. No one else had been asked to throw extra pitches. Was that a good thing or a bad thing? With his thoughts whirling, he went back to the sidelines. One of the players still waiting his turn glanced his way with a smirk.

“Knuckleball, huh? Thanks for the trip down memory lane.”

Another pitcher, a guy who’d thrown in the upper 80s, snickered. “Thought it went out with sideburns and bell bottoms.”

Eli didn’t answer, but his heart sank right to the pit of his stomach. The guy had a point. Who cared about knuckleballs anymore? It was a dying pitch. Only about two active major leaguers could be considered true knuckleballers. No one in the Bigs cared whether you could throw it or not. Maybe instead of showing off his stuff, he’d made a fool of himself.

He’d probably provided the scouts with a funniest story of the year. Later tonight, they’d toss back a few beers while they howled with laughter at the idiot who’d showed up at a major league tryout and thrown a sixty-mile-an-hour knuckleball. He stole a glance at Caitlyn, wondering if she realized what a disaster this was.

Apparently not—she looked ready to burst with excitement. She danced up and down as she gave him two big thumbs up.

He shook that off with a doubtful shrug. Maybe she didn’t understand enough about baseball to know what had just happened. Not likely, though. Caitlyn had always been a huge baseball fan.

She beckoned him over with an impatient gesture.

With a feeling of dread—he didn’t want to explain how stupid he’d just looked—he made his way over to her spot in the bleachers. As soon as he came close enough, she leaned over the railing and threw her arms around him. “You were amazing. Definitely the best one here. No contest,” she whispered in his ear.

Her warmth made him feel a little bit better. “You saw it all?”

“Of course I did. I took some videos for everyone back home, too.”

Videos. Videos of him throwing junk before a Friars scout. But it wasn’t her fault. He couldn’t take his disappointment out on her.

“Good thinking,” he made himself mutter, then set her back on her feet. Holding her in his arms was too confusing, anyway. It felt too good, much better than it ought to. “I have to stick around in case they decide to call a scrimmage. When do we have to get back home?”

“Well, I have to be at work the day after tomorrow, but your dad says take your time.”

“My dad?”

“Yeah, I called your parents right before you pitched. They were listening on the speaker phone. The way things go in Sapphire Falls, probably about twenty people were listening in. Everyone’s so proud of you, Eli.”

Oh for crap’s sake. He could just picture everyone huddled over the phone, listening to nothing more than the thud of a ball in a glove. And then the unforgettable moment when the scout asked the fateful question,
You got anything we haven’t seen yet
?

“It’s just a tryout, Caitlyn. I don’t want everyone getting all excited over nothing.”

“Shh. It’s not nothing. It doesn’t matter if you get the call or not. You came out here and did your best.”

Good God, what was this, kindergarten?

Finally, his frustration burst through his control. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I made a huge mistake throwing those knuckleballs. I should have stuck with the heat. That’s all they want in the major leagues. I don’t know why they asked for more pitches, anyway.”

“That’s crazy! Your knuckleball is not a mistake! It’s your best pitch.”

“My best pitch barely cracks seventy miles an hour. What a joke.”

“But it’s not supposed to. Knuckleballs don’t rely on speed, you know that. The scouts know that, too.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I got talking with Stewart, the guy with the radar gun. He works with Crush Taylor, the Playboy Pitcher, can you believe it? Crush owns the Kilby Catfish now, and I guess the Friars like getting his feedback on new talent. When he can’t come to tryouts himself, he sends Stewart. Anyway, I told him that you’re a legend in Sapphire Falls because of your knuckleball. I guaranteed he’d never see a crazier pitch than that one. At first he thought I didn’t know what I was talking about. But I told him that I saw R.A. Dickey pitch both before and after he learned the knuckleball that earned him the Cy Young Award, and after that he listened to me.”

He drew away, staring at her with dropped jaw. “So it was your doing? Them asking if I had any other pitches?”

“Well, it was just a conversation. I also told him about my homemade Cracker Jacks. He said he’s going to call the shop and place an order, but if they sign you, I just might comp him a whole order.”

“Caitlyn—” He ripped off his baseball cap and swiped his hand across the back of his sweat-damp head. “I can’t believe…why did you…why were you even talking to him?”
This wasn’t her fault, this wasn’t her fault
, he reminded himself.

“Why are you so worried?” Huge and soft, her hazel eyes showed nothing but innocent good intentions. He felt like an ass for all the anger coursing through him. “Isn’t it better to show them everything you’re capable of? You threw lots of fastballs and curve balls too.”

“Yeah, but you know what’s going to stick in their minds? Sixty-miles-an-hour junk, that’s what.”

“Eli!”

“I better get back,” he mumbled, stalking away before he said anything worse to her. It wasn’t Caitlyn’s fault that she was a sweet girl who liked to talk to people, and that people adored her. It wasn’t her fault he’d thrown those pitches. This was on him.
He’d
screwed up his last shot at his dream. No one else.

With his back to Caitlyn, Eli watched the rest of the prospects take their fifteen shots at destiny. No one else got a request for extra pitches. No one else threw a knuckleball.

Nope, that claim to fame was all his.

* * *

Caitlyn’s entire right thumbnail was bitten down past the tip and her stomach was in knots by the time Eli exited the field at the end of the tryout.

Had she messed up? She hadn’t even intended to talk to the scout but they were both standing there and both, clearly, interested in what was going on and she’d mentioned that she was a friend of Eli’s, that they were both from Sapphire Falls… She frowned. That’s how conversations went. One person said something and then the other said something in return and the topic went from there. Stewart was a nice guy. She hadn’t done anything wrong.

Except that Eli had looked so frustrated. That irritated set to his mouth with the worry in his eyes and the tension through his shoulders had made her stomach hurt. He’d been so great and she wanted
him
to feel that.

She wanted to take him in her arms and hug him and rub his back and tell him that she thought he was amazing for so much more than his knuckleball. She wanted to kiss him and tell him that she could name two dozen things she loved about him that had nothing to do with baseball.

But none of that would matter. She was just Caitlyn. Eli’s friend’s little sister. She knew he liked her and cared—enough to help her buy a new car, for instance—but her believing in him, and telling him that he could never throw another pitch in his life and she’d still be madly in love with him, wouldn’t matter.

And she
was
in love with him. That seemed clearer than ever as she’d sat watching his tryout.

Sure, the tight pants and his wide shoulders and the incredible power in his body when he coiled and released on each pitch made her hot and itchy. But it was the determined look on his face, the focused concentration, the way he’d looked so satisfied when his fastball hit square and the pleasure when he’d thrown that first knuckleball that made her heart swell.

She wanted this for him. She wanted him happy above all else.

And that’s when she realized that she was in trouble.

On the very off chance that he
didn’t
get the call—because crazy stuff happened all the time in baseball—she was going to be as devastated as Eli would be. But if he
did
get the call, that would take him away from her, potentially all the way to San Diego. That would be pretty damned devastating too.

Being in love kind of sucked.

Eli approached the bleachers where she was sitting and Caitlyn made herself paste on a big smile and bounce up from her seat.

Her job here was cheerleader. She had to make him feel good about this tryout, no matter the outcome. He didn’t want to hear about how much she appreciated his easy smile or his sense of humor or how much her heart melted every time she saw him with his dad. This wasn’t about how she felt.

“That was awesome,” she said, coming down the four steps to the bottom of the bleachers. She hopped down to the dirt and grinned up at him. “Let’s go celebrate.”

Eli gave her a frown. “There’s nothing to celebrate yet. There might not be at all.”

She tamped down the urge to grab him and shake him. “You tried out,” she said. “That’s huge, Eli. You took a step toward your dream. And you came out here and gave it your all. That’s worth celebrating.”

He shoved a hand through his hair. “Nah. I just want a shower and then maybe we should hit the road.”

“Hit the road?” she repeated. “Go home? Now? It’s four o’clock. By the time we get all packed up and shower and eat, we won’t get to Sapphire Falls until after midnight.”

He shrugged. “I should get back. No reason to stay. And I’ll need to get back to the store and stuff.”

Now Caitlyn let her eyes narrow. “We’re not going home.”

“What?”

“I mean tonight. We’re not leaving. We’re going out.”

“Out?”

She nodded. “Out.”

She pulled her keys from her pocket and started for the parking lot. Ten steps later she glanced back. “You coming?”

He looked annoyed, but she didn’t care. She knew Eli. He had a lot of friends and, of course, spent time at the local Sapphire Falls events and hung at the Come Again on Friday nights with everyone else. It wasn’t like he never had a good time. But he didn’t let loose, he didn’t let go, he was never more than a mile or two from the store and his family. He was amazingly loyal and responsible.

He needed a night off.

And she was just the girl to give it to him.

He pulled his bag up higher on his shoulder and followed her to the car.

He threw his bag into the backseat and looked at her over the top of the car. “Where are we—”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “I’ve got this.” She got into the car and started the engine.

“What do you have, exactly?” he asked, getting in next to her.

“Tonight,” she said, backing out and turning the car toward the hotel. “I’ve got tonight covered.”

Eli didn’t say anything to that and Caitlyn barely kept from grinning. He wasn’t good at giving up control, she knew. He’d taken over with his family, the store, everything. He let his dad think that Chip was still making some decisions, but the truth was, Eli was keeping it all going.

Well, tonight, he needed to trust her.

She pulled up in front of the hotel, put the car into park and looked at her watch. “Okay, you have fifteen minutes to get cleaned up. Then you need to be back down here.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “For what?”

She wasn’t sure. Fun. That was all she knew. She had fifteen minutes to figure it out. “You’ll see.”