Rekindled (3 page)
Authors: Susan Scott Shelley
An alert went off on his phone. He glanced at the text message on
the screen. Domingo Torres, outfielder for The Glendale Riptide and the batter
whose line-drive caused Adam's injury, had become a friend in the months since
the incident.
Heard you received some invites for Spring Training. Looking
forward to seeing you out on the mound again, buddy.
At thirty-two years old, this would likely be his last shot at
playing in the major league. The nagging concern of not being able to shake his
lack of control on the mound ate away at him, day after day. Rubbing the scar
on his eyebrow, Adam replied with a "thanks," then tucked the phone
in his pocket.
A flash of blue outside the window caught his attention. Gemma
chatted with a few members of his crew as she handed out sandwiches.
The bright blue color was the same shade as the bikini she'd worn
when they'd met at a polar plunge five years earlier. He'd immediately been
interested. They'd set their belongings near each other and chatted while
waiting for the plunge to begin. Their first date involved warming up with
coffee after the plunge. They'd participated in another plunge the following
winter, holding hands, wrapped in each other's arms. Warming up after that one
included a steamy shower for two at his apartment.
Stop
. He didn't need those thoughts seeping into his head.
He turned away from the window and sidestepped tools and crew
members as he made his way through the rooms. Several members of the Hunter's
Peak Trappers, the town's minor league baseball team and the same team that had
given Adam his start, made up part of his crew. Minor league salaries fell far
below their major league counterparts. He couldn't think of a single player or
manager who didn't have a second job in the off-season. The fact that Hudson
Contractors was able to employ them was a source of pride for him and his
father.
Adam called out to Connor Muldoon, centerfielder for the Trappers
and the hardest-working member of his crew. "Up for some batting practice
after work today?"
"Sounds good." His friend took off his work gloves and
followed him.
Adam owed Connor for trying to help him through his slump.
Pitching sessions with him showed he hadn't lost his velocity. If he could
overcome his mental block and stop throwing wild pitches, he might stand a shot
at regaining his place on a team.
They stepped through the front door. Cold air stung exposed skin
and chilled the sweat worked up over a full morning of manual labor. The tails
of his thermal-lined flannel jacket kicked up in the wind. Gemma stood at the
table, handing out sandwiches. The tip of her nose had turned pink. Dark hair
spilled out from underneath a white knit hat. Silky strands danced around her
face and tempted him with the memory of how they’d felt sliding through his
fingers.
Connor's voice turned into a buzzing in his ear. He shook his head
and forced his concentration back on his buddy. “Sorry. What?”
"I thought of a way to streamline the order system. Mind if I
run it by your sister when I get back to the office?"
"Anything to speed up the paperwork would be great. Jocelyn's
head is swimming with the amount we have now."
"Cool. I'll talk to her." He looked at the lunch table
and grinned. "Lunch looks great today."
Adam's jaw clenched. Connor had better not be looking at Gemma. He
turned to face his friend. Connor's eyes were stuck, gleaming, on the array of
food covering the table. Relief flowed fast. He relaxed his muscles. And then
his gaze locked on a pair of violet eyes fringed by thick lashes. Those eyes
haunted him. He saw them every time he closed his own.
As if caught under a spell, he crossed to her. Beautiful didn't
begin to describe her. Exotic, enchanting, with the mix of dark hair, pale
skin, and an oval face carved to perfection. Her scent, a blend of flowers and
something spicy, beckoned him closer.
Deep barking came from the car behind her. She opened the car door
and a large dog bounded out and stood by her side. Gone was the small bundle of
black and white fur they'd helped rescue four years earlier. The dog now likely
outweighed Gemma. Adam slowed his steps.
He hung back as she let Bear sniff and familiarize himself with
his surroundings. Amid the crew's exclamations of Bear's resemblance to a wolf
or an actual bear, Adam stepped into the small crowd forming around the lunch
table. Bear's ears perked up. He turned toward Adam, tugged on the leash, and
nearly pulled Gemma off her feet. Something deep in his chest twinged when he
locked eyes with the dog. A reminder of the love and dreams he had with Gemma
when they'd rescued Bear from horrible living conditions, promising to take
care of him. And each other.
The crowd fanned out, still peppering Gemma with questions. Adam
crouched down and rubbed the dog's fur. "Hey, buddy. I missed you."
Bear whined and barked and jumped, resting his paws on Adam's
shoulders. The feeling that this wasn't the way life was supposed to turn out
flashed through him, hot and uncomfortable. Nudging the dog down, he rose and
looked at Gemma. A shaky smile graced her lips.
"Jocelyn's making you work during your visit?"
His sister jumped to his side, the light of battle in her eyes.
"I hired her. Gemma made lunch today. She's filling in until Aunt Gretchen
comes back."
No.
He didn't want her here, getting into his
head. He wanted her back in L.A., where he wouldn't have to think about her
every single second. "Researching for a new role?"
The corners of her mouth turned down for a split-second.
"Something like that."
Connor leaned over the table, drawing her attention with a
question about Bear. She flashed him a smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. The
dog stood patiently by her side, allowing Connor to pet him. No longer a
hyper-active puppy. No longer the dog Adam remembered.
Jocelyn smacked his arm. "Help me get something out of the
car."
He followed her to the street. The sounds from the crew's lunch
break echoed through the quiet afternoon. "You don't make the hiring
decisions without me. Why is Gemma here?"
"She's upset. She doesn't know what to do with her life, or
if it's time to throw in the towel on the whole acting thing."
"Seriously?" The declaration hit him like a bucket of
ice water. Of all the possible reasons for her to be back in town, he hadn't
expected that one.
From thirty feet away, he could see Gemma's stiff posture, and how
her hands dug into Bear's leather leash. Shadows darkened her eyes. She kept
pressing her lips together, a tell-tale sign that she was unsure of something.
"She's overwhelmed, and she's homesick. She couldn't even
scrape together the money for the flight here. Things in L.A. aren't getting
easier. She's out of a job and thinks she's too old to continue to pursue
acting."
His gaze ranged over Gemma's delicate features. She'd chosen Los
Angeles and a life that didn't include him, but after they'd ended their relationship
he still followed her career. He'd hoped the minor roles in low-budget movies
would turn into something bigger for her. She was talented. Why couldn't
Hollywood see what was obvious to him? "I had no idea things were so
tough."
Jocelyn laid her hand on his shoulder. "You guys were really
close once, maybe you can help her."
He dropped the guard back down over his heart. "That
relationship's over."
"I'm simply saying she needs a friend. So, be nice to
her." Concern creased his sister's face. Her hands rested on her hips. Her
attempt at his father's my-way-or-the-highway
stance normally
brought a smile to his lips. But not today.
"I have to get back to work."
"You haven't eaten yet." Jocelyn grabbed his arm in a
death-grip hold he'd taught her. "I hate seeing her so upset. Please, will
you just talk to her?"
He detached her arm in a counter move. Jocelyn would keep
pestering him until he finally gave in and agreed. He might as well get
something out of it. "Fine. But you'll owe me something huge."
She met his gaze. The desire to wrap his arms around her, draw her
into his strength, and hold her tight burned through his muscles. His hands
curled into fists as he fought the sensation. He'd say his piece and then walk
away.
“This is some spread.” He picked up a sandwich. "Have you
eaten?"
"I figured I'd make sure the crew had enough first before I dug
in." She studied him with wary eyes. "I don't want to cause problems
between you and Jocelyn. I'll leave if you want me to go."
Despite how their relationship ended, he couldn't toss her out
knowing she didn't have a job. He'd figure out a way to deal with seeing her on
a daily basis. Biting into the turkey on whole-wheat, he tasted Thanksgiving in
a sandwich. "Are you kidding? This is the best thing I've eaten all
year."
"We're only one month into the year." But her eyes lit
up with his praise. The lines of tension on her face relaxed.
Ignoring the magnetic pull of her smile, he snagged a second
sandwich and handed it to her. Too many members of his crew milled around them.
"Come inside the house for a minute. I need to talk to you, and it's a
little warmer in there."
"Oh no. Your coat." She raised her hand to her forehead,
then shook her head and muttered something about being too busy. "I forgot
to bring it with me. The one you're wearing doesn't look as warm as the one you
let me use."
"I'm hanging in there. Let's go." He cast a glance over
his shoulder at Jocelyn. She gave him a thumbs-up sign, and he groaned. The
last thing he needed was his baby sister trying to play matchmaker. Payback for
this favor just tripled.
"What about Bear?" Gemma bit her lip and shifted her
weight from one foot to the other. A gust of wind tossed strands of hair around
her face.
"Jocelyn and Connor will keep an eye on him."
"All right. But only for a few minutes."
After grabbing a coffee and a bottle of water, he led Gemma into
the house. The smell of sawdust filled the air. Planks of wood, sawhorses and
power drills created an obstacle course through the first floor.
"Wow, you guys are doing a lot of work in here."
"Repairing something you know how to fix is easy."
Houses were simple—he could repair almost anything. Pitching had been simple
once, too.
They settled side by side on the bottom of the stairs. Their
thighs brushed together, but neither he nor Gemma moved away. "It's been a
while since we shared a meal."
"Yep." She opened the bottle and took a sip of water. A
droplet hung on her lower lip until her tongue darted out and captured it.
Forcing his gaze away from her mouth required monumental effort.
"How are things in L.A.?"
"I'm guessing Jocelyn already told you."
He took another bite out of the sandwich. After he swallowed, he
lifted his brow. "Things are tough out there. I get it."
Hands paused on the sandwich wrapper, she stared at him for a
moment, her expression eloquent. "I'm not sure you do."
"Then tell me." His knee nudged her leg. "You used
to be able to tell me anything."
"I'm not where I thought I'd be. At all. In anything."
She ripped off a piece of the bread and raised her gaze to his. "Admitting
failure is the hardest part. Especially to you."
Her words caught him in the center of his chest. A direct echo of
his feelings.
When he reached the majors, he'd immersed himself in the game,
driven by an all-consuming need for success. He'd worked hard for himself, but
a large part of him was doing it for Gemma, too. He'd wanted to be able to
offer her the world. Knowing that she was aware of his fall from grace rubbed
more dirt into the wound.
Opening up to her, as hard as it was, might help her to feel
better. "You want to talk about not being where you thought you'd be? Try
going from being a pitcher known for his accuracy, known for hardly ever
walking a batter, to being a rehabbing pitcher who couldn't pull his game
together. I was walking too many guys, throwing too far outside of the strike
zone, and not putting the ball over the plate. Hell, I deserved to be
benched."
Her fingers rested on his forearm. The touch—warm, the
contact—electrifying and comforting.
"Why did your game change so much? The sports reports stated
you didn't have any brain trauma from the fracture, and that the concussion
symptoms went away. They said the doctors gave you a clean bill of
health."
"My head's healed. Physically, anyway. That line drive
happened so fast, I didn't have time to react. When you pitch, you're hunched
over, vulnerable for a few seconds to a ball smacked right back to you."
He rolled his shoulders to relax the stiffness. His skin heated. "I
hesitate and my muscles tense up. The idea that the injury could happen to me
again, and that it could do permanent damage, is on my mind all of the
time."
A light of understanding dawned across her face. "You can't
play that way."
"You have to go out there with a no-fear attitude." Anything
less would surely throw the final out in his baseball career.
"I've never known you to be afraid of anything."
Afraid
.
He hated that word. He hated the weakness.
She sighed. "To put my situation in baseball terms, I feel
like I've been standing at the plate for twenty pitches, and I keep fouling
into the stands."
Somehow, they ended up shoulder to shoulder and hip to hip.
Gemma's hand lightly squeezed his arm. Adam stared at the elegant, tapered
fingers that had once provided comfort, security and passion, and covered her
hand with his. "No matter what type of pitch life throws at you, only you
can know when it's time to hang up your cleats or retire your glove."
"Is it time for you?"
Shrugging, he pushed down the sick feeling that accompanied the thought
of being forced to walk away from the game for good. "I don't want it to
be."
"You'll get your pitches fixed. I know it." Confidence
coated her words. Her hand turned under his, and she linked their fingers.
He gave into the urge to stroke the dark silk of her hair. Rich,
black strands slipped through his fingers, and he remembered how it looked
fanned out across his pillow. Needing more, his fingertips skimmed her temple.
"I never liked seeing you upset."
Her head tilted closer to his. "Me, neither, about you. I
guess that's why we fit so well together."
Closer, closer. Parts of his body chanted for him to lean in and
taste her lips, to see if the magic was still there.
Heavy footsteps treaded across the porch and were followed by a
loud knock on the front door. Biting back a swear, Adam lowered his hand from
Gemma's face. As the door swung open, he stood, and keeping their hands linked,
pulled her to her feet.
Connor entered the room. "Fred's here."
"What's Dad doing here?" Adam grabbed the rest of his
sandwich and released his hold on Gemma. The interruption saved him. Kissing
Gemma wouldn't solve any problems, it would only create more.
Before he could walk outside, his father walked in, with Jocelyn
and Bear at his side. "I wanted to see how the project was coming
along."
In the months since his heart attack, he had grown stronger every
day. Adam did whatever he could to ensure his dad’s stress level stayed low and
that he abided by the cardiologist-ordered reduced workload.
"Sure, let's take a look." Downing the contents of his
coffee cup allowed time for his system to settle and his mind to shift from
thoughts of Gemma to thoughts of project deadlines.
Jocelyn handed Bear's leash to Gemma and linked her arm around
their dad's waist. "I'll help, Daddy. I don't want you overdoing
anything."
"I'm not an invalid." His smile took the sting out of
the words.
Gemma walked toward the door but Bear veered to the right and
closer to the stairs. A soft sigh slipped out and she tugged on the leash.
"Come on, we're going outside now."
Telling himself he simply wanted to spent more time with the dog,
Adam stopped her by slipping the leash out of her hand. "You should come,
too. We'll show you what projects are left so you can provide the right fuel in
tomorrow's lunches for the crew."
She rewarded him with a smile, and for a moment, it was as though
the separation of the last four years hadn't happened at all.
