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“What happened here?” I ask because, honestly, my best guess is ‘film set for a dystopian movie.’
“Nothing happened,” he says. “It’s been pretty much like this since I was a kid. Pretty sad, huh?”
“I don’t understand,” I admit, following him when he gets out of the car, Carter spreading his arms wide to indicate the property.
“I’ve got a vision for the place,” he says. “I know most of the focus in this town goes to making Christmas brighter and merrier every season, and I get that. But this field hasn’t gotten any love in a long time, and I want to do my part to make this town even better. And for a kid like me, baseball was everything. I played all the time, even on shitty fields and old equipment. But how many more kids could participate if we gave them a chance to?”
I stare at him. There are fresh snowflakes coming down around us, and I pull my coat tighter. He walks onto the field, boots crunching in snow, and I follow him to the pitcher’s mound.
“I want to start a youth camp,” he says. “Overhaul the fields, put in some decent batting cages. Indoor batting cages, too. I can’t tell you how many times my dad had to shovel paths in the winter just so I could practice. I want other kids to have that shot, even if their dads aren’t willing to get out the shovel.” He shakes his head as he looks around. “Because this? This doesn’t cut it. Not when the closest indoor practice facility’s in Saginaw. That’s forty minutes away.”
He kicks some of the snow off of the mound.
“Like I said, I had a family who cared. Who supported my dream. But every kid deserves that shot, don’t they?”
I think about the kids in the library who come in asking for books about baseball, begging for memoirs and biographies and how-to guides. The ones who’ll sit in front of our computers watching YouTube video after video of a guy throwing a ball or swinging a bat. I never gave any thought to where the closest indoor batting cages were.
“It’s my retirement plan,” he says simply. “One day, my body’s going to give up. And honestly, I’ll be okay with that. As long as I have something else to give when I’m done.”
He sounds so damn sincere that I can barely handle it. I turn my head away, hoping that the tears that are threatening to spill out stay in my eyes.
He was supposed to be an asshole, I tell myself. He was supposed to be easy to hate.
Unfortunately, he’s just the opposite, and I have absolutely zero chance of not falling for him.
But that doesn’t mean he gets to know that.
“Huh,” I say, looking out over the field. “Well, with that dream, you’re gonna run through the groupie moms real fast around here. Not too many in a town this size.”
“I only need one,” he says, looking at me pointedly.
Now it’s not the cold that makes me shiver. It’s him. It’s the warmth in his eyes and the way, when he looks at me, I feel seen for the first time. I step closer to him, reaching out to take his hands. In response, he pulls me close, wrapping his arms around my shoulders.
“It’s a really beautiful dream,” I admit, meeting his eyes.
“Almost as beautiful as you,” he says.
And then his lips are on mine. Soft and warm and perfect, like a peppermint mocha on a snowy day. Just the touch of his lips is enough to make me forget all about my plan to play him. I just want his skin on mine. I just want him.
Which reminds me, Carter isn’t the only one with a surprise up his sleeve.
“Let’s go back to my place,” I suggest. “I have another surprise for you.”
“Another surprise?” he question, drawing the words out in delight. “Is it in the bikini family of surprises?”
“Better,” I tell him, pretty sure of myself this time.
“Well, then lead the way,” he says, a wicked grin tugging at his lips as he presses his against mine.
I’m giddy the whole way back. Because this time, I do have a surprise for him. In fact, I had a stroke of genius the other day while I was out with the girls. I didn’t just get sexier clothes on the outside. I discreetly grabbed a few certified ‘hot girl’ items.
Once we’re home, I feed Rudy and then take Carter back to my bedroom. I tell him to wait while I duck into my closet. It’s a redo of the other night, and I empty the bags onto my closet floor and start rifling through them.
Except… the ensemble is not coming together quite how I’d thought. In fact, none of it’s working the way I pictured. But it’s too late to change it now. It’ll have to do.
