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She shrugged. “Overpaid bunch of men who never grew up as far as I’m concerned.”
His lips twitched. “I’ll have you know those guys work hard.”
She gave him an accusing look. “You sound as if you’re one of them. Former player or just a wannabe?”
He laughed and it felt good. Foreign, but good. He’d not had many reasons to laugh over the past four years. It hadn’t all been bad. Some parts had been wonderful. He’d been helping people who desperately needed help. But overall there hadn’t been nearly enough laughter.
For all the craziness, he’d felt as if he was doing something positive in the world, had felt alive and needed.
“Nope, never been much of a baseball player,” he admitted. “But I have a few friends on the team.”
“On the Atlanta Braves baseball team?” She sounded incredulous.
He nodded. His father handled more than one of the players’ finances, was a real-estate mogul, and prior to Trace leaving the country they’d moved in the same social circles. These days, all the parties and hoopla seemed pointless when there were people starving and being killed for their beliefs or place of birth.
Shaking off the memory, he focused on the petite blonde staring up at him and drank her in like a breath of fresh air.
Chrissie’s brows pinched. “Just who are you, anyway?”
Determined that he was going to keep the past four years at bay, not think about pending decisions that needed making about his future, Trace grinned. “That’s right. You forgot my name.”
For the first time, a smile toyed on her lips.
A guilty smile.
That she’d pretended not to remember him was as telling as her comment about his not asking for her phone number.
He stuck out his hand. “Hi. I’m Trace Stevens. I’m a volunteer in the medical tent. I’ll be working closely with you over the next couple of days.”
“Not that closely.”
It occurred to him that just because his life hadn’t moved forward, a lot could have changed in hers.
He’d just assumed she was single, available.
His gaze dropped to her left hand and specifically to her empty third finger.
“No wedding ring,” he mused out loud. “Boyfriend?”
“I’m not married.” Her lower lip disappeared between her teeth. “But I date from time to time.”
He let her answer digest, not liking the green sludge making its way through his veins. He had no claims on her. He never had. When he’d spotted her across the tent he hadn’t even considered that she might be involved with someone else. He’d just seen her and wanted her.
Four years had come and gone. It wasn’t as if he’d have expected anyone to have waited on him.
And to wait for what? A weekend fling every few years when he came home?
He had nothing to offer beyond that and never would.
CHAPTER THREE
CHRISSIE NEEDED TO get away from Trace. Quickly. Being around him made her insides mush.
“So,” she said as a way of moving the conversation away from anything personal. “What can I do to help get things set up?”
“Bud and Agnes are so organized they have most everything taken care of. The bins of donated supplies are over here and are labeled. We can set the area up along the lines of what we did four years ago.”
Chrissie’s face heated, which told her way too much about her state of mind.
