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She made no move to take it. “I’m probably going to give myself a concussion.”
“Come on. My brother could hit off this machine when he was eight.”
She made a face. “Now I feel better.” But she took the bat and attempted to hold it the way he’d shown her.
She looked ridiculous and adorable and he tried not to laugh.
Just as quickly, he choked it off.
What was he thinking?
Sharp words sat on his tongue, ready to drive her away. He could stop this now. They could go back to being mortal enemies. She’d let one mistake slide. That wasn’t the same as helping him. Or even accepting him.
She looked over at him, and he was sure she could read the doubts on his face.
Just like he could read the doubts on hers.
Michael jammed his hands into his pockets, feeling his shoulders tighten.
Before he could say anything, she said, “I look like an idiot, don’t I?”
He let out a breath. “Nah.” Then he paused and almost smiled. “Well. Maybe.”
“Tell me what to do so I don’t take a ball to the frontal lobe.”
So he demonstrated again, and she took the stance again, and when she said she was ready, he fed a token to the machine.
At the first ball, she didn’t even try to swing. She flung herself back and almost dropped the bat. “Holy crap, that’s fast!”
He caught her shoulders before she could plow into him, intending to set her straight, the way he would one of his brothers.
She froze, just for an instant, but it was enough. He yanked his hands down.
She didn’t say anything, so he backed away to lean against the chain link, putting clear distance between them. “You want me to go get a putter?” he said. “You have no trouble swinging those.”
That earned him a rueful glance over her shoulder.
But then her expression softened. “You can show me.” She paused. “It’s okay.”
He hesitated, just long enough for him to hear the machine revving up for the next pitch. So he stepped forward, caught her shoulders again, and pushed her into place. Then, without thinking about it too carefully, he put his arms over hers, his hands on the bat, and guided her into the swing.
“Don’t run from it,” he said. “Stand strong.”
She got a piece of this one, and you would have thought she’d scored the winning home run at the World Series. Bat in the air, jumping up and down, silly smile on her face.
“I hit it! I hit it!”
It made him smile. This was vastly more satisfying than showing Chris how to hit a curve ball. “Okay, try not to make it a foul ball next time.”
She made a face. “Killjoy.” She tapped the bat against the ground and got back into position. Like a frigging major league player.
He laughed.
And then he shut up real quick when she threw another glance over her shoulder. “You going to show me again or what?”
CHAPTER 6
Michael crossed the parking lot with a spring in his step. He told himself to knock it off, that one batting lesson didn’t mean anything.
