Leaving Bluestone (6 page)

So he didn’t get out to the baseball field until the teams were chosen and the game was underway. The field was surrounded by more spectators than he’d ever seen at a game, and he almost turned back to the bar, but this had been his idea.

He made his way through the crowd and strode toward the backstop, where Lily’s team was up to bat.

“Whoa, hang on, there,” Maddox called from second base. “You’re on our team. They already have Leo and Lily.”

Quinn looked from the rangy country singer to Lily watching her team from behind the backstop.

“We need you, man,” Maddox said. “Take first base.”

Slowly, he took his glove out of his back pocket, shooed away the first-grade teacher whose name he couldn’t remember and took her spot. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought he saw a stricken expression on Lily’s face when she realized they were on opposite teams.

“I’m so glad you decided to be on our team,” a breathless voice said beside him, and he turned to see Theresa, her dark hair bundled back in a braid thicker than his wrist, sunglasses shading her eyes, long legs bare beneath a pair of short, tight shorts.

He stabbed his glove in the direction of her sandals. “Can you run in those?”

“I didn’t pack anything else.”

“What position are you?” he asked when Dale Simmons, the doctor, stepped up to the plate.

“Maddox told me outfield. Can you believe I’m on the same team as Maddox Bradley?”

Huh. That’s probably why all these people were here, to watch Maddox play. They were in for a disappointment. The guy could bat, but he was shit at fielding.

As witnessed by the way he let Dale’s grounder get by him. Trent Givens at third base picked it up and pitched it in Quinn’s direction, but Dale was safe by the time the ball sailed over the pitcher’s mound.

“Sucks to be you,” Dale teased as Quinn tossed it back to the pitcher, John Evans, who helped Leo coach the kids’ team.

“Who picked these teams?” Quinn asked.

“Maddox and Leo were captains.”

Quinn grunted as John struck out Trinity, who nonetheless received cheers of encouragement from her husband...who was up next.

Dale led off base but Quinn ignored him. John wouldn’t throw to first, not when he had a runner on third. Besides, Leo would likely bat both runners in, no help for it. He’d gone to college on a baseball scholarship.

“Get back,” Quinn told Theresa over his shoulder. “I don’t think it’ll come this way, but if it does, you need to be ready.”

“Really?” Her voice was a squeak as she watched Leo twirl the bat like a pro.

“Damned show-off,” Quinn muttered, backing up himself.

But he wasn’t just a show-off. Despite John’s curveball, Leo made contact with a crack that sent the ball flying between first and second. Quinn gauged the likelihood of Theresa catching it—no way in hell—and took off past her, following the trajectory of the ball. Shit, this one had some power on it, and didn’t start to descend until it passed the first base line. A quick glance toward the spectators told him he was running out of real estate, but he stretched anyway.

The ball bounced off the end of his glove and into the crowd, and he stumbled to a halt before slamming into a curvy brunette. She caught his arm as if to help steady him, then slid her fingers over his skin before releasing him with a sly smile.

What the hell? He gave her a nod, then turned back to the game in time to see Leo lope down the third base line toward home. Past him, Lily met his gaze and gave a shrug and a grin.

Their next batter was an easy out, a pop-fly to John, and then Lily stepped up to the plate. She was a hell of a player, too, and Quinn braced himself, ready to pursue her hit, but after two balls, she hit a fastball between second and third, a single, and came to a stop on the bag.

“See what happens when you show up late?” she teased, her eyes on the next batter, one foot on base and the other leading toward second.

“We’re not doing so bad.”

“Sure, seven to nothing. Easy to overcome.” She nudged him with her hip.

He hooked two fingers through a belt loop at the back of her jeans and tugged. “Try to run now.”

She twisted, but he held tight. Turned out the joke was on him—he could feel the heat of her body, and just an inch away was her bare skin. Was she sensitive there, at the small of her back? She turned toward him and pressed her hands to his chest. A moment passed before he realized she was looking for leverage to break free—a moment where she looked up at him, her breath hot on his throat, the heat of her palms burning through his t-shirt, his hand around her waist.

As the crack of a bat echoed across the field, she broke free and ran for second.

He was still aching from wanting her the next inning when he faced her across home plate, bat cocked over his shoulder. He knew better than to think she’d make it easy on him. He swung hard at the first pitch, only to have it drop just before home plate, damn it. He glowered at her and she squared her shoulders, then caught the ball from Trinity, the catcher. Behind him, he heard Theresa calling encouragement, and hell, he should be flattered, but it only made him scowl harder—and swing too soon.

“Strike two!” Trinity trilled.

“Should you even be playing pregnant?” he growled back at her.

“As long as you don’t try to run me over again,” she returned. “That is, if you get on base.”

Quinn wasn’t accustomed to teasing, but didn’t have time to react before the next pitch sailed toward him. On pure instinct, he swung, and connected. He didn’t even check to see where it went, though he glimpsed Lily looking over her head so he knew it wasn’t foul, so he charged for first base. He felt the satisfying give of the base beneath his foot as he rounded and headed for second. The shouting of the crowd mingled with cries on the field.

“Get him! Get him!”

“Third base! Third!”

Second base was behind him and he looked up to see Lily right in his path, glove extended toward the outfield, where presumably someone had the ball. He grabbed her around the waist, hauling her with him as he dove for third, twisting at the last minute so his body took the impact. His hand hit the base, her ass hit his gut, and the ball hit her glove, all so fast he couldn’t figure out the exact order.

“Safe!” a voice shouted above him.

He tried to recover his breath while he savored the feel of Lily in his arms, his hand still looped around her waist, her ass shifting downward as she tried to get up, over the fly of his jeans.

Hell. So much for trying to get his breath back. She just took it away again. Her ponytail swept across his face and her elbow bit into his bicep as she pulled free. She twisted to look down at him and winced. He followed her gaze to the bloody scrape along his forearm, dotted with gravel.

“Worth it?” she asked, leaning one arm on her bent knees.

He grinned. “Hell, yeah.”

But despite his best effort, his team lost, twelve to two. He offered his team a free round on the house as a consolation prize, and let Dale clean up his arm after Theresa offered to. He didn’t want that girl within ten feet of him. It just didn’t feel right. He only had to avoid her for a few more hours, then she’d be gone, and would no doubt forget about him.

At dinner at the bar that evening, Rick again broached the subject of investing in the bar. “Have you thought about my offer?”

Quinn sat back in the booth, both hands around his beer bottle. “I have. I’d like to think about it some more. I haven’t decided if I want to stay in Bluestone. I’m pretty sure I don’t.”

The older man drew his chin back in surprise. “What do you mean? You’re an important part of this town. You’re in charge of the concerts, you’re a leader on the baseball field, everyone seeks you out to talk to you, and they listen to you. You’re a leader here as much as you were in the military.”

Quinn stared at the older man. Was he right? He couldn’t be. “Maybe,” he said doubtfully. “But I’m not sure that’s who I want to be.”

“Son, none of us is absolutely who we want to be. We’re what circumstances make us. Some choices we make, sure. But not all. You’re good for this place, for the bar and Bluestone. Don’t sell yourself short because you think the grass is greener somewhere else. I’ve been somewhere else. It’s all pretty much what you make of it.” The older man rose and clapped Quinn on the back. “You think about it some more and let me know.”

The older man walked away, leaving Quinn pondering.

***

“Up for another game of cards tonight?” Quinn asked Lily quietly when she walked behind the bar later that evening to deposit dirty glasses beside the sink.

“Sure. You want to see if Leo or Maddox—?”

“No.”

She widened her eyes at him. “Okay. But can’t be as late.”

“You’re off tomorrow.” She always closed the landing on Mondays, unless it was a holiday.

“Not this week. Got a special group going out for a seventieth birthday.”

“So early launch.”

“Yep.”

“Well, if you don’t want—”

She touched his hand. “I want. Let me get those tables cleared over there.”

By the time she’d cleared the tables and Linda had wiped them down with her good arm, the customers had gone home, and Quinn sent Linda after them. Linda looked from Lily to Quinn curiously, but did as she was told.

Lily got the felt table top out and placed it on the table closest to the front of the bar, and Quinn carried over two bottles of beer.

“Unless you’d rather have a Coke,” he said.

“Beer’s good, but you’re going to go broke giving us bottles. I can drink draft.”

“My private stash.”

“Then I’ll bring next time.”

He sat across from her and smiled. “Bringing beer to a bar?”

“Well, you know. Doing my part.” She pulled out the cards and shuffled, then dealt as he passed out the chips. “So what’s going on?”

That she figured out he wanted to talk didn’t surprise him. He’d been pretty obvious. “I told you about Rick’s offer.”

“Did you decide to take it?”

“He’s going to give me more time while I figure it out. But he said something to me today that I don’t know what to think about. He said I’m a leader in this town.”

“Of course you are.” She set the deck beside her and picked up her hand.

“I’m not a leader.”

“Okay, maybe not
the
leader, but
a
leader, certainly. What did he say?”

“He said people listen to me, and want my opinion, and that I’m involved. I didn’t have a chance to tell him I don’t have a choice, that you drag me into all this trouble.” He glanced at his hand and discarded two.

She smiled and dealt him two cards from the deck. “Right. Kicking and screaming.”

“Clearly that’s what I need to start doing.”

“So why did he tell you this?”

“Because I told him I didn’t know if I wanted to stay in Bluestone and run the bar. I didn’t feel right taking his money right now.”

“And he thinks you belong here.”

“He said the grass isn’t always greener.”

She nodded. “So?”

“So I’m going to think about it.”

“Staying?”

Was that hope he heard in the upswing of her voice? “Getting an investor,” he said, because he couldn’t put words to the idea of staying here, not yet.

“So do you want me to convince you?”

“To stay or go?” he asked with a grin, and she blew out an exasperated breath.

“To stay. Why did you invite me here tonight?”

“To talk to you. I respect your opinion.”

“You bitch about it most of the time,” she said.

“Because you offer before I ask.”

She stuck her tongue out at him and took a swig of beer. “Okay, well, I think you should stay.”

“So you can boss me around.”

“That, and we all get along well, you and Leo and Trinity and me. We work well together, we play off each other, we see things that need to be done and do them.”

“So you’d be lonely without me because you’d have to give other people instructions?”

“I didn’t say I’d be lonely.” But she lowered her gaze and a blush heated her cheeks.

If he stayed, could he have her? Could he see what would happen if he pursued her? Could he—take Gerry’s place in her bed?

No. He couldn’t have that. And if he couldn’t, what was the point in staying? To watch her fall in love with someone else, marry someone else? He called her bid and waited, knowing he didn’t have the hand to beat her, but shit, he’d made his choice. He’d made his choice and now he was going to have to figure out where he was going to go next. He couldn’t stay here and not have her.

She showed her cards. He grunted to let her know she’d won, but didn’t reveal his own sorry hand. She scraped the chips toward her, eyeing him warily. They played another hand in almost silence, then he got up to get more beer.

“What’s wrong now?” she asked.

“What?”

“You ask me to stay here and play poker with you, then you stop talking?”

“I thought we were playing poker. You suggested it last night to help me unwind, it helped, so I wanted to play again.”

“You didn’t just bring me here to win my money.”

“Maybe I did.”

She watched him, considering, then shrugged and dealt another hand.

The tension grew thicker as they played another round in silence. He won this one, focusing on the cards and not the uncertainty that was his life. When he first put the bar up for sale, he knew what he wanted—he wanted to travel around the United States, maybe settle somewhere farther west, like Montana or Idaho where fishing was good. Maybe do the mechanic thing. He’d worked for a mechanic in high school and knew his way around engines. Maybe carpentry.

But now, nothing sounded appealing, which was why he hadn’t pushed as hard to sell as maybe he should have. He blamed the recession on lack of interest, but he knew he hadn’t done all he could. Tomorrow, he’d start placing ads in the city papers again, and he’d let Rick know he was letting go of the dream.

Which was getting harder to do with each day.

***

The following day, after the Parrillas left, Rick giving the bar one last longing look, Quinn called the papers in the Twin Cities and Duluth, winced a bit at the price of the ad, but he was determined. He was out of here.