The Practice Proposal (6 page)

“I thought you were a shrewd dealmaker,” she said. “But now I’m not so sure.”

Frank looked amused. “Why’s that?”

“You can’t negotiate people’s emotions.”

He nodded. “Unless you’re pretty sure—and I am.”

“What about Cole?”

“Don’t tell him,” he said sternly. “This stays between you and me.”

“That’s not what I meant.” She couldn’t believe what she was about to say. “What if
he really does fall for me?”
Could I resist him then?
And if she could, she certainly didn’t want to hurt him, as far-fetched as the possibility
might be.

“Then you’ll be one lucky lady.” His tone told her that negotiations were closed.

He pulled an envelope from between the pages of the newspaper and handed it to her.
“Here it is in black and white.”

She opened the envelope and pulled out two identical official-looking documents detailing
Frank’s offer.

I, Liza Sutherland, agree to:

—Date Cole Collins through the end of the current baseball season, which includes
attending Nationals games when asked, and functions when invited.

—Be myself. No games or manipulation.

—Keep this arrangement confidential.

If I adhere to the aforementioned and do not fall in love with Cole Collins, Frank
Price will immediately donate $500,000 via Liza Sutherland to the BADD Athletes Foundation.

Frank had signed both copies, and there was a space for her to sign as well, with
her name typed beneath it.

Liza grimaced and folded the papers. “BADD really needs that money, but I can’t do
something sleazy like this to get it.”

Frank raised one eyebrow. “It’s not sleazy to raise money for a charity that’ll send
poor kids to camp. Did you think it was sleazy for Cole to donate a date to BADD’s
auction? There’s really not much difference in that and what I’m asking you to do.”

He kind of had a point. Even so, she felt like she needed a shower, and not just from
being sweaty.

“I still can’t do it,” she said.

He gave her a wry smile. “Can you really afford not to?”

BADD could use the money, and she really did want to see Cole again…but she’d never
admit that to Frank.

“It’s really counterintuitive, though. I don’t fall for Cole, and you donate the money
to BADD.”

“Sounds like you’ve got it figured out.”

“I think I do.”
Don’t I?
She risked considering what would happen if she did fall for Cole—a long shot that
no sane person would bet on. She’d end up empty-handed for BADD, which was no worse
off than she was right now. But what about her heart?

“Then have we got a deal?” He reached in his pocket, pulled out a Montblanc pen, and
handed it to her.

She pressed her eyes closed for a few seconds. Could she really say no? Her hands
trembled a little as she unscrewed the cap from the pen and signed her name on the
papers. She kept one for herself, put the other back in the envelope, and gave it
to Frank along with his pen.

“Nice doing business with you.” He smiled again, flashing lots of big, white teeth.
“Now run in and get yourself dolled up.” He tossed his coffee cup toward a nearby
trash can, and it bounced off the rim and went in. “You’ve got a ball game to get
to.”

Chapter Six

Cole stepped into the on-deck circle and practiced his swing with a weight on his
bat, keeping an eye on the action of the game. The Nationals needed this win against
the Braves, and usually the first team that scored ended up winning. The game had
been hitless through two and a half innings until the guys at the top of the lineup
got a couple of knocks, and were now on first and third with one out. Momentum was
going their way.

But the batter at the plate struck out. A fair number of Braves fans cheered and started
that stupid tomahawk chop. Cole checked the pine tar on his bat, tapped the weight
off onto the ground, and headed toward the batter’s box. He tried not to let the crowd
distract him during games, and he rarely looked up at the Diamond Club seats where
players’ friends and families sat.

Most of his friends were on the bases, in the dugout, or in the bullpen, anyway. And
they were pretty much his family, too. Whether he looked or not, he could bank on
Mack being up there in the Diamond Club seats, sometimes with his wife, Brenda, and
often with Frank. He was always nervous when they were there and watching—it was a
different kind of pressure. The eyes of a crowd of forty thousand didn’t affect him
like the eyes of the people he wanted to impress most.

But today he felt different—like he needed a boost of confidence since he’d blown
it with Liza last night and botched Frank’s plan. Deciding it was worth the pressure
of Mack’s gaze to get a little reassurance, Cole glanced up into the crowd and quickly
located Mack. But the woman sitting next to him wasn’t Brenda.

Liza?

The sun caught her hair just right, making it shimmer like dark copper. She stared
straight at him and smiled. His heart hammered faster than the rhythm of his country-song
walk-up music blaring in the background. He couldn’t believe she’d changed her mind,
but he wanted to run up into the stands and kiss her.

He was normally serious when he came to the plate, but this time he busted out a hell-yeah
grin and winked at her. He took his stance and faced the pitcher, ready to knock that
baseball out into the parking lot.

After two swinging strikes and one ball in the dirt, Cole got a fastball down the
middle. He smacked it off the screws, tossed his bat, and sprinted for first, watching
the ball ricochet off the right-field wall. As he rounded first and headed to second,
his teammate scored, and the Nats took the lead.

Thanks to a hot redhead.

Standing on the bag at second, Cole took a deep breath and scanned the cheering crowd.
He loved this team, and he loved these fans. This park was like his home.
Maybe Frank’s plan is going to work.

The prediction proved to be true—the first team that had scored had won. The Nats
took it four-one, and were one step closer to the division title, just as Cole had
told Liza they would be.

After the game, the celebrating, and the media interviews, he hit the clubhouse and
showered in a hurry, anxious to get to Liza. One of his smart-ass teammates had bought
thirty copies of today’s
Washington Post
and plastered his and Liza’s pictures in the shape of a big heart on the clubhouse
wall. This morning, he could barely stand to look at the photo of them together—much
less thirty of them—or good-naturedly take the teasing from the guys. But now he had
hope, and his teammate’s prank had quickly made the start of his fake relationship
seem legit. He couldn’t wait to see her again, so that made it
feel
kind of legit, too. He snapped a picture of the display and posted it on Twitter.

Cole Collins
@ColeCollins

@LizaSutherland Nats clubhouse art. #epiccollage

Mack texted and told him he’d set Liza up in the Nats’ family room, and Cole found
her there. She sat on the edge of a leather armchair, her back to him, watching the
Nats Extra
postgame show on one of the flat screens. He hung in the background for a second
while one of his teammates wrangled his toddler son, and his wife picked up toys.

Liza glanced behind her and caught sight of him. She stood, looking self-conscious
and pretty damn hot
, and gave him a shy smile.

Cole made his way past the chattering family, kind of nervous about how this was going
to go, but confident he could pull it off now that he had a second chance.

She had her phone in hand and she tipped it toward him. “Nice tweet.”

“You saw the newspaper, I guess.”

She nodded, gazing at him with those pale green eyes.

“Sorry if it embarrassed you,” he said sincerely.

“What do you mean ‘if’?” She smiled brightly, and it calmed his nerves a little.

He rolled his eyes. “I’m glad you came,” he said.

She smoothed her hands down the front of her faded jeans—they fit just as well or
better than the black ones she’d worn last night—and tucked her hands into the pockets
of her red zip-up hoodie. His gaze lingered on her snug, white V-neck tee. “And dressed
like a Nats fan, too.”

She blushed and gave her outfit a once-over. “Totally unintentional.”

Again, he felt guilty about involving her in Frank’s scheme. She had shown up
and
worn his team’s colors. For some reason it reminded him of when she’d hung out and
watched him at baseball camp.

“What made you change your mind?” he asked.

She lifted one shoulder. “The tweet you sent last night. The hot dog I had during
the game was cooked perfectly.” She grinned.

Cole flattened his hand against his chest, pretending to be wounded. “You mean it
wasn’t my irresistible charm and wit?”

She shook her head, looking coy. “But that
was
a pretty impressive double you hit.”

He scrunched his nose. “I was aiming for the parking lot.”

“You used to say that at baseball camp.” She smiled. “Even though there wasn’t a parking
lot anywhere near the diamond.”

“But there was a parking lot somewhere,” he teased.

“I say take what good you can get, and next time make it better,” she said. “Cheesy,
huh?”

He kind of liked the way she came up with things that made him think. It was more
than he could say for most of the girls he’d dated. “Sounds like something a coach
would say.”

“I got it from my dad—heard it about a million and twelve times when I was growing
up.” She cocked her head. “I’m surprised he didn’t use it on you baseball-campers,
too.”

Cole tensed. “Maybe he did,” he said flatly. “But that’s a long time and a lot of
coaches ago.”

Liza winced at his tone, and Cole checked himself. She didn’t seem to have a clue
how her father had hurt him and shattered his confidence—something all those coaches
had worked to undo. John Sutherland had become co-owner of the Orioles while Cole
played at UNC. He had followed Cole’s progress and built up his hopes of being drafted
by the Orioles, assuring Cole there was a behind-the-scenes deal going on and that
it was a sure thing. John and Sylvia had become surrogate parents to him over the
years, and he was nearly as excited about being “officially” associated with them
as he was about playing for the Orioles. But at the last minute, the Nationals had
drafted him. Sutherland had given him some lame excuse about the draft being unpredictable,
and claimed the Nationals had picked him up before the Orioles had the chance. Soon
after that, John and Sylvia had drifted out of Cole’s life, his confidence was shot,
and his troubles in baseball began. But that was the last thing he planned to admit
to Liza right now, if she hadn’t figured it out herself.

He reached out and pulled one of the strings of her hoodie, just as he’d done last
night with a lock of her hair. “Let’s get out of here. I’ve got a surprise for you.”

But Cole was the one who was surprised. He couldn’t believe how happy he was that
he had another date with her.

Chapter Seven

Liza and Cole walked hand-in-hand down the sidewalk along one of the quiet streets
of tiny downtown Maple Creek, Maryland. The place always reminded her of Mayberry
RFD, the town she’d seen in reruns of
The
Andy Griffith Show
on TV Land. Maple Creek had lots of the same characters and a few modern touches.
Mature trees flanked the road, and decorative banners of colorful fall leaves hung
from the old-fashioned light posts.

A group of older ladies stood in front of the drugstore. Their heads turned in unison
as Cole and Liza passed, their eyes wide behind their glasses. They didn’t see many
men under sixty in this town, so Cole was certainly an eye-catcher. Liza couldn’t
argue that.

He walked with a little swagger, his jeans set perfectly on his hips. As if he knew
they were watching, he ran his hand through his hair—shiny in the afternoon sun and
messy from the breeze. His plaid shirt rippled across his muscular shoulders as he
raised his arm, and settled just tight enough across his pecs when he lowered it.
Tall, rugged, and carefree, he looked like the walking inspiration for a sexy country
song.

“Good heavens,” one of the ladies said just loud enough for them to hear.

Liza rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Busted.”

“What?” he asked playfully.

“You’re shameless. Putting on a show like that for those old ladies. You’re going
to give them heart attacks.”

“I didn’t put on a show for them,” he said, grinning guiltily.

But he had given Nats fans a show this afternoon. Liza had to admit she’d been impressed
watching him play—so athletic and confident, with the crowd chanting his nickname,
“Crush, Crush, Crush.” The jumbotron scoreboard had flashed highlights of him making
impossible plays with ease.

And I’m officially dating him.

The entire setup seemed surreal, but the guilt that was nagging her didn’t. Was it
okay to feel a little relaxed and kind of excited now that she knew where things were
headed with Cole?
A half-million dollars for BADD.
She still felt kind of sleazy about what she was doing, but reassured herself that
it was for a good cause. Just like Cole donating a date to the BADD auction…
right?

They passed a small post office and a barbershop. “You’re taking me to Sweet Bee’s,
aren’t you?”

Liza never would’ve guessed he’d bring her to Maple Creek, and it tugged at her heart
a little. She’d mentioned Paige’s bakery last night, and he must have remembered.
They stopped in front of the next storefront where a sunshine-yellow-and-pink striped
awning shaded the doorway. The moment they stepped inside, they were enveloped by
the sweet smell of cakes baking in the oven.

Paige came around from behind the glass display cases—filled with cookies and cakes
and gorgeous pastries—and gave Liza a tight hug, her white apron dirty and her eyes
dancing with mischief.

Liza worried what that might mean. “Cole, this is my best friend, Paige Ellerbee.”

Paige was the size of a Polly Pocket doll with a face like a Disney princess, and
the flair for drama to match it. She shifted her wide-eyed gaze between Cole and Liza.
She’d hung on every word of the story Liza had told her about last night’s date when
she’d called on her way to the baseball game. But Liza had revised it a little. She’d
left out the part about turning Cole down for another date, and the part about her
deal with Frank. As far as Paige knew, all had gone smoothly, if not a bit strangely,
for the two of them. She hadn’t needed any more evidence than the picture she’d seen
in a copy of the
Washington Post
that a customer left on a table.

Paige shook Cole’s hand, looking way calmer than most people probably did when they
met him. “Pleasure to meet you,” she said, then flipped her blond ponytail. It had
a streak of pink in it that matched the stripes in the awning. “Now I can mark you
off of my ten-guys-I-gotta-meet-before-I-die list.” She nodded, grinning.

Liza laughed. “I thought it was ten-guys-I-gotta—”

“Glad the Nats won today,” Paige said quickly, and shot a no-you-didn’t look at Liza.

“Nice to meet you, too,” Cole said. “Thanks.”

Liza could tell he didn’t know what to make of Paige. She hadn’t either, when she’d
met her in third grade. Heading back from the bathroom, Liza had seen Paige standing
alone outside her classroom, drawing smiley faces on the wall with a red Sharpie.

“Are you in trouble?” Liza had asked. “’Cause if you’re not already, you’re gonna
be.”

Paige had widened her golden-brown eyes, her blond hair falling in wisps from her
ponytail. She’d looked like a Precious Moments figurine. “No I won’t,” she’d said
politely. “This is art class.”

“Everything’s ready for you two.” Paige gestured toward the door that led to the kitchen.

Liza glanced suspiciously between her and Cole. “What does that mean?”

Cole said, “You, Miss Tiki Torch Hot Dog, I’m-not-much-of-a-cook, are going to do
some baking.”

“You’re kidding, right?” She would much rather do some eating.

“Nope.” Paige’s eyes glimmered.

Liza had no idea what they were talking about. Obviously the two of them had cooked
up something before she and Cole got there. “Someone want to clue me in here?”

“Liza, you’re like, all Orioles, all the time.” Paige clutched Cole’s biceps and
raised her eyebrows at Liza. “And Cole is all Nationals, for sure. So I thought you
two should settle this thing in the kitchen—you know, baseball pie wars or something.”

“Baseball pie wars?” Liza asked.

Paige nodded. “Well, yeah. Because cake and cupcake competitions are so overdone.
And I figured I’d have a real battle on my hands.” She tipped her head toward Liza,
looking exasperated. “But then you show up in that Nats outfit and I’d say the advantage
goes to Cole.” He played along, giving Paige a thumbs-up, and that only encouraged
her. “I can count the times on my index finger that I’ve seen her wear something that
wasn’t black or orange.”

“She’s exaggerating,” Liza said.
But not by a lot…

“C’mon back.” Paige led them into the kitchen, which gleamed with stainless steel.
The place was so clean and organized that someone might wonder if all of the pastries
and cakes up front had been delivered, and the kitchen was just for show. Liza knew
better. After Wes died, she’d spent many days in here with Paige, trying to help but
really only getting in the way. Yet Paige had never acted as if it bothered her—even
when Liza botched recipes and left cookies in the oven way too long.

Since then, Liza had associated Sweet Bee’s with her intense grief during the first
months after she lost Wes. It had kept her away from Paige more than she wanted to
admit, and still Paige had understood.

“So here’s the setup,” Paige said. “You two are going to create a team pie.” She took
another opportunity to grab Cole’s biceps. “You’ll make a Nationals pie, and Liza
will make an Orioles pie. I’ll help you come up with recipes, and then we’ll see which
one turns out best. Haven’t you ever seen
Cupcake Wars
? It’s like that, but with pie.”

Liza was waiting for the punch line, and Cole looked as though he was trying not to
laugh. “You’re serious?” she asked, imagining the horror she might create considering
she was chronically kitchen-challenged.

“What? Are you afraid of a little friendly competition?” Paige teased.

“No,” Liza said quickly. “I just hate to embarrass him.”

Cole laughed and smoothed his hand up and down her back. “I’m not too worried about
that.”

“Whatever,” Liza said, enjoying the sturdy feel of his touch. “You’d be wise not to
judge me based on one flaming wiener.”

Paige raised one eyebrow. “I’m not sure I want to know what that means.”

“Considering we’re in your kitchen,” Cole said, “and you’re letting Liza cook, I’m
guessing you don’t.” He flashed Liza a knowing smile, and her heart fluttered.

“I think I might,” Paige teased. “But I’m willing to risk it. There’s a fire extinguisher
mounted right there on the wall. Feel free to use it when you need to.”

“Joke all you want,” Liza said. “We’ll see who’s laughing later.”

Paige glanced from Liza to Cole, and shrugged. “Game on.” She checked her oversized
watch. “We need to get moving. The judges will be here in two hours.”

“Judges?” Liza knew she sounded freaked out. Just when she’d decided this could turn
out to be fun with the three of them, Paige had gone and thrown in judges?

Paige nodded. “Handpicked and hungry for pie.”

“Who?” Liza asked.

“You’ll see. But we need to get to work now.” Paige gestured to the right side of
the kitchen. “Cole, you’re over here. Liza’s on the left. Backs to each other, so
you can’t check out the competition.”

Liza felt a twinge of disappointment. Having her back to Cole made sense, but she’d
kind of been looking forward to checking him out as often as she could while they
were together. Frank’s deal did offer some fine fringe benefits to offset some of
her guilt.

Cole extended his hand to her, playing this whole thing up as if it were a reality
TV show. Paige watched them closely as Liza shook his hand, his grip strong and sure.
He gave her a crooked smile and sweetly said, “I’m going to crush you.”

…

Cole wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. This baking stuff was
work
. When he was growing up, he’d helped his grandma in the kitchen, baking cookies or
cobblers. But that had mostly involved licking the beaters and the bowl, then heading
back outside to play baseball with his buddies. Now he understood just how much effort
went into making a couple of pies.

But his wasn’t an ordinary pie. It was a masterpiece.

He hurried to put the final touch on it—a curly-W logo in the center on top. He stepped
back and admired his work, hoping the pie tasted as good as it looked. Paige had helped
him decide on a recipe, but he’d done the rest himself. His grandma would be proud.

He couldn’t wait to put his Nationals pie up against anything Liza had decided on
for the Orioles. At first, he’d been skeptical of the whole idea, thinking of all
the other things Frank could’ve arranged for them to do. But he was having fun joking
with Paige and flirting with Liza. He got the feeling she might be starting to warm
up to him the way she used to, and that pleased him more than he thought it would.

“Time’s up, you two.” Paige flitted into the kitchen like a sprite. “And everyone’s
here.”

“Already?” Liza asked.

Cole had been so intent on making his pie and stealing glances at Liza that he hadn’t
paid attention to what had been going on out front.

“Go on and say hi,” Paige said. “I’ll bring the pies in a little bit.”

Cole started to take off his chef’s apron—now stained with red and blue—but Paige
stopped him. “Leave it on. It’ll give you some cred.”

Cole met Liza near the door. He tried to get a look at her pie, but she’d blocked
it from his view. He’d done the same thing.

“Feeling confident?” he taunted good-naturedly.

“You didn’t smell anything burning, did you?”

“I figured that would be your grand finale—Orioles pie flambé.” He grinned. “Smarter
to set the pie on fire in front of the judges. It might get you the sympathy vote.”

“Whatever it takes to beat you.”

“You’re not going to win.”

She playfully tipped up her chin. “Wanna bet?”

Her offer shocked him. He was so sure he would win, and he was so sure she knew it.
“All right.” He couldn’t keep the cocky smile off his face.

“If I win…” She bit her lip as she thought about her wager. Cole gazed appreciatively
at her mouth, knowing exactly what his wager was going to be. “I want you to give
me autographed baseball cards for the BADD camp kids.”

It struck him how she’d picked something for others, instead of choosing something
for herself. Cole remembered being a teenager headed to camp, carrying along his cherished
John Sutherland card that he’d hoped to get autographed. He wasn’t keen on Sutherland
now, but going to the guy’s camp had paved his way to the major league. Whether he
won or not, he’d be happy to give Liza some signed cards for the boys going to camp
next year.

“And you have to sing,” she said.

Crap. Now he
had
to win. There was no way he was going to sing in front of her or anyone else.

“What about you?” She cocked her head and he caught himself checking out the smooth
skin along the curve of her neck.

“Hmm,” he murmured, as if he hadn’t already decided. “If I win, I get to kiss you.”

She blushed and quickly looked away. He could’ve sworn he’d seen a flash of fear in
her eyes.

“Out you go, you two,” Paige called.

Still wondering about Liza’s reaction, Cole stepped into the front of the bakery with
her and stopped short when he saw who was there. His heart thudded like a pitch in
the dirt. Seated around the two-top tables that had been pushed together to form one
big one were Mack and Brenda, Frank, and three sports bloggers Cole recognized. But
with them sat John and Sylvia Sutherland.

Shit.

Frank had given him the rundown of who would be coming, and it hadn’t included them.
Who invited Sutherland to ruin our pie contest?
Cole couldn’t believe such a thought had actually crossed his mind. He never guessed
he’d be hoping to win a pie contest, and he sure as hell hadn’t thought he’d have
to cross paths with Sutherland tonight.

He took a deep breath, reining in his frustration. Sports bloggers were there and
watching. Everything he did or said would be fair game, and he and Frank wanted all
the press to be about his new relationship.

He glanced at Liza, who smiled at him, innocently beaming. “You invited everyone here?”
she asked.