Tell Me Something Good (8 page)

“Still you didn’t have to do it.”

Her lips tugged upward. “If anyone is going to insult you, it’s going to be me.”

“Thanks,” he said dryly.

“Seriously though, you’re not an asshole. A little misguided, a lot spoiled, but not an asshole.”

“Thanks, Doc. Keep the compliments coming. I feel my head shriveling in size as we speak.”

“I call ’em like I see ’em.”

“Don’t I know it?”

She glanced his way. “On a serious note, I owe you an apology for last night.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you.” He leaned closer to her, cupping his ear. “Could you repeat that?”

Noelle’s eyes narrowed. He’d heard her just fine. “I jumped to conclusions last night before I heard the whole story from Shannon.”

“Aww, yes. I remember now.”

Noelle shook her head. “Anyway, like I was saying, I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. I didn’t realize Shannon was going to have a meltdown when Mike confronted her about talking to another guy.”

“What did she expect to happen?” he asked, sounding utterly confused. “His girlfriend was about to get a number from another man.”

“I have no idea.” She perked up. “In any case, they put it behind them and left together, which means I won the night even though they were on one of your outings.”

Tate shot her a look. “They live together. It made sense.”

“But they couldn’t keep their hands off each other.”

“Rampaging hormones. You do know what those feel like, right?”

Air became a precious commodity in the small confines of the car. How did he manage to add that note of sexiness to his voice? And why did it work so well on her? “Of course. Did you expect me not to know?”

“Not at all,” he drawled.

Having no clue how to respond, Noelle stared out the window as Tate navigated the Mercedes through the city.

A few minutes later, he pulled into the city park’s parking lot, the tires crunching on the loose gravel. “Ready for some baseball?”

Umm… “I hope so.”

“I survived a bridal show. You can spend a couple of hours at a baseball game.”

She raised her chin. “Never said I couldn’t. Let’s go.”

Chapter Eight

Noelle marched ahead of him toward the baseball field. Tate hung back a step and took in the nice view from the swing of her black hair down her lean back to the impressive ass. She was wearing those damn jeans again.

“Hey, Coach, why did you bring a girl?”

Tate swiveled his head to the right where Marvin Arnold, his starting shortstop, approached. “Marvin, we’ve talked about being polite and respectful.”

The boy’s face scrunched up in embarrassment, then he threw his scrawny shoulders back. “Right. Sorry.” He held out his hand and stepped up to Noelle, who’d turned around. “Hi, I’m Marvin. What’s up?”

Not great, but better.

Noelle sent Tate an amused look over the boy’s head before solemnly shaking Marvin’s hand. “Nothing much. I’m Noelle.”

“Pretty name.”

She smiled. “Thank you. That’s the nicest thing anyone has said to me in a long time.”

Marvin kicked the ground with a dirt-encrusted sneaker. “It was nothing.”

“Oh, but it was. The nicest compliments are the ones that come straight from the heart.”

Marvin looked up at him, the dark brown eyes that dominated his round face beseeching. Tate moved closer to save his player before Noelle totally confused and embarrassed him with her psychology talk. “Hey, man, are you the first to get here?”

He usually was, taking the opportunity to spend some alone time with Tate, the only steady male influence in his life.

“Yeah, my mom dropped me off a few minutes ago.”

Tate bit back a frustrated sigh. He’d tried to talk to Rhonda about the dangers of leaving her nine-year-old son unchaperoned at a public park, but she always dismissed his concerns, saying Marvin could take care of himself. The worry flitting across Noelle’s face let him know she shared his concern.

“Okay,” Tate said. “Can you make sure the dugout is clear?”

“On it, Coach. I’ve been working on my swing.” Marvin ran off.

Tate and Noelle followed at a slower pace until she stopped abruptly and whirled toward him.

“Wait. I thought you were playing,” she said.

“I never said that.”

He could see her racking her brain for a shred of evidence to discredit his statement, but of course she came up empty.

“You’re a coach?” she asked.

“Yep.”

“Of a youth team?”

“Yep.” He didn’t bother hiding his grin.

“Oh.” They resumed walking. She didn’t speak again until they’d almost reached the dugout. “Marvin seems nice.”

“He’s a good kid. They all are.”

Noelle looked over the park. He tried to see it through her eyes. The city had done a great job of renovating it, placing a baseball field in the center of the park, which had once been run-down and in disrepair, weeds and trash everywhere, but now boasted plentiful trees, a basketball court, a running path, picnic tables, and benches. Still, they were in a working-class neighborhood. Nothing fancy.

“This probably isn’t what you’re used to,” he said.

“Funny, I was just thinking the same thing about you.”

Surprised, he eyed her. “Why?”

“Look at the car you drive. You didn’t pick that up at the junk lot. And I recognize an expensive designer watch when I see one.”

“You think you have me all figured out, don’t you?”

Noelle crossed her arms. “Don’t I? Can you prove me wrong?”

Funny enough, he wanted to. A week ago, he wouldn’t have given a rip that she thought he was a spoiled, fun-time guy who wouldn’t know hard work if it bit him in the butt. What she didn’t know was that he’d stopped accepting money from his parents the day he graduated from college. He’d turned down a job at his family’s multimillion dollar company, Grayson Electronics, to strike out on his own. He’d never once regretted his choices. “Remember what you said earlier about jumping to conclusions?”

She frowned, but Marvin ran up to them before she could respond. “The dugout’s clear, Coach. Do you need me to do anything else?”

“Why don’t you show me your swing?” He followed Marvin out to the field, but couldn’t resist a look over his shoulder. Noelle stood at the dugout entrance, a considering light in her eyes.

…

Noelle wiggled on the metal bench searching for, and not finding, a more comfortable position. Sports weren’t her thing, but the kids looked so cute in their matching uniforms of red jerseys and white pants. According to one of the parents, Tate had bought everything for them—uniforms, bats, and gloves.

“Strike!”

Noelle winced at the umpire’s call. Despite the team’s professional appearance, they weren’t faring well on the field. It was obvious the other team practiced a lot more often than Tate’s team, the Wranglers, did. Tate said he could only get the team together once per week due to his and the parents’ schedules.

Ricky, who’d struck out, trudged back to the dugout, bat dragging behind him through the dirt. He plopped down beside Noelle and hung his head. She surveyed the dugout again. His teammates mirrored Ricky’s stance, the chatter that had filled the space before the game now mostly gone. Tate stood at the front of the dugout with his hands on the shoulders of another player, Chris, giving him a pep talk.

She couldn’t help herself.

Noelle stood, wiping away the sweat dripping down her forehead, and clapped her hands twice. “Hey, guys, can y’all gather around for a second?”

The kids looked at each other, then Tate, who nodded his okay, and then back at each other. Marvin was the first to stand. The other boys followed his lead. They were so cute with their earnest, sweaty faces. “Listen up. I’m not liking your body language.”

“What’s body language?” Ricky asked.

“It’s the way you carry yourself. I can tell what you’re feeling just by looking at you. And I see a lot of slumped shoulders and down faces.”

Marvin crossed his arms over his skinny chest. “That’s ’cause we’re losing. We suck.”

Noelle’s heart melted. She wrapped her arm around his narrow shoulders. “You do not suck. None of you suck.” She looked out at the scoreboard in right field. “You have four hits today. That’s amazing.”

“Yeah, but they have five runs. We don’t have any.”

“Yet. You don’t have any yet. And to be perfectly honest, you’re not going to get any.”

The kids gasped. Tate’s face lit up with anger. Noelle held up a finger to stop him from tearing into her. Marvin tried to move away, but she tightened her grip. “You’re not going to get any until you start believing in yourselves. I hear y’all talking. You’ve lost to this team twice before. You came in thinking you were going to lose. Have you ever heard of the power of positive thinking?”

The boys, with identical, bewildered looks on their faces, shook their heads in unison.

“It means that you think good thoughts so that good things happen. You have a positive attitude and believe in yourself. Don’t think about how your last at bat ended as an out. Think about how you’ve now seen the pitcher and know what he’s going to throw. You’re a team. Believe in each other. Cheer each other on. Do you believe?”

“Yeah, I believe,” Marvin said, his body now wiggling in excitement. “We almost scored a run in the last inning,”

“Exactly. Now this is what I want you to do. When you walk up to the plate, put your shoulders back, your bat on your shoulder. Like you’re so confident you don’t have a care in the world. Say over and over, ‘I’m the best. I’m getting a hit. I’m the best. I’m getting a hit.’ Then concentrate on the pitcher like you never have before.”

“Marvin, you’re up,” Tate said. Noelle made eye contact with the boy, who nodded once. He grabbed his bat and batting helmet and bounded out of the dugout, but stopped after a few steps. He thrust his shoulders back and strutted to the batter’s box, the bat on his shoulder. A fierce look of concentration settled on his face as he went into his stance.

Noelle walked to the front of the dugout and stood next to Tate.

The pitcher threw the ball. Marvin swung and missed. Feeling the other kids’ eyes on her, Noelle stiffened her posture and kept her facial expression impassive. Marvin looked back, his uncertainty clear. She nodded once, holding her breath. Marvin returned the gesture and faced the pitcher again.

Ding
!

Marvin stood there motionless, obviously stunned that he’d hit the ball.

“Run, Marvin,” Noelle yelled.

His teammates jumped up and down, shouting their encouragement. Marvin dropped the bat and sprinted toward first base.

Noelle turned her attention to the ball, hoping the kid camped out in center field wouldn’t catch it. To her surprise, the ball kept going…right over the fence. A home run! She jumped up and down and threw her arms around Tate. “Can you believe it? He did it!”

He wrapped his arms around her waist, bringing her into contact with his muscular chest. Heat that couldn’t be attributed to the sun flooded her senses. Noelle stepped back and tugged on the hem of her shirt. “Sorry.”

His amber eyes twinkled. “No need to apologize. You were excited. Besides, I know you love touching me.”

Noelle glared, but Marvin ran back into the dugout, preventing her from setting Tate straight.

“Noelle, did you see me? I hit a home run!” Marvin bounced, his grin stretching from ear to ear.

“I sure did. You were amazing. I could never do that.”

“Aw, it was nothing.” He waved his hand and stared at the ground, shyness and embarrassment kicking in.

“Yes, it was. You should be so proud of yourself. All of your teammates are. Right, gang?”

“Yeah, Marvin that was awesome!” Ricky said.

The Wranglers lost the game, but it was close–six to five. The kids pumped fists and gave each other high fives anyway. “We’ve never been that close before. We’re going to win next time,” Marvin explained.

“You sure are,” Noelle said.

“Are you coming back next week?”

She met Tate’s amused gaze above Marvin’s head before she returned her attention to the boy. “I don’t know. I hadn’t thought about it.”

“You
have
to come back. You’re our good luck charm. We almost won.”

“Well…”

“Pleeeasssse,” his teammates chimed in.

Noelle laughed. “Okay, okay. I’d love to come back.”

…

After saying good-bye to the last Wrangler, Tate watched Noelle swing one of the kid’s bats. She wouldn’t be making the major leagues any time soon. He smiled. Based on the intensity dominating her expression, that fact had escaped her. She haphazardly swung the bat back and forth. He winced. Poor bat.

“Some swing you’ve got there,” he called out.

She spun to face him, her eyes narrowing. He grinned. He always knew he was doing something right if she was frowning at him. Crazy enough, he’d begun to look forward to the expression of disapproval. She wouldn’t be Noelle if she wasn’t looking down her nose at him.

Tate pulled a baseball from his right hip pocket. “Want to try hitting for real?”

“I’m not sure.”

“You’re not scared, are you?”

Her spine stiffened. “Of course not.”

He bit back a smile. “Of course not.” He jogged to the pitcher’s mound, while Noelle stepped into the batter’s box.

“Give me your best shot,” she called out, settling the bat on her right shoulder.

He tossed the ball, not putting much heat on it.

She flailed at the ball and missed. “It’s okay. I’m getting warmed up.”

“I know,” he said, again holding back a smile. She tossed the ball back to him. He threw it.

A swing and a miss.

“Word of advice. Keep your eyes open.” He dug another ball out of his pocket and tossed it.

She whiffed. She stomped her foot and screeched, but then hard-nosed determination settled on her face like a promise. She got back in her stance, tightly gripping the bat. “Let’s go.”

“Doc, wait.” He jogged to the batter’s box. “Let me give you a few pointers. Can I have the bat?” Without a word, she handed it to him. “Extend your arms and follow through all the way.” He demonstrated. “Can you do that?”

She nodded. He returned the bat, and she swung.

“A little slower.”

She did and looked at him expectantly. He shook his head.

“Here, like this.” He stepped behind her and wrapped his hands around hers on the piece of equipment. Ridiculous how well she fit into his arms, the top of her head fitting under his chin. She still smelled good, the light scent of lavender clinging to her, and she felt even better.

“Keep your weight on your back foot and swing through your hips,” he whispered in her right ear.

He guided the bat in the right direction. Her hips moved in tandem with his. They moved as one, in perfect sync. Like they would if they ever made love. Shit. He wasn’t supposed to be going there. Her butt rubbed against his groin, which tightened at the contact.

Tate took a quick step back. Just because they had this
thing
between them didn’t mean they should act on it. Nothing good could come from it.

Except mind-blowing pleasure
, his less than sane and reasonable side whispered. Shit.

“Are you okay?” Noelle asked, concern and confusion both stamped on her face.

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine,” he got out. He wiped suddenly damp palms on his pants. Where had his usual cool gone? “I, um, think you got it. Let’s try again.”

He picked up the ball at her feet and returned to the mound, slowly this time, desperate to calm his rioting senses. He needed to chill and the sooner the better. He faced the woman who was making that damn near impossible. She looked adorable, lips pressed tight, her hands gripping the bat like her life depended on it. Adorable? Yeah, he must be losing his mind.

The ball flew out of his hand. The bat made contact with the ball. The ball dribbled on the ground toward the mound. Clearly unconcerned with the tepidness of the hit, Noelle jumped up and down like she’d hit a four-hundred-foot, game-winning home run. “That was so cool. I did it!”