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He took one of her hands in his and gently squeezed.
“It is America’s pastime,” he reminded her. “Most people think it’s fun.”
Her gaze dropped to where he touched her. He could feel her pulse hammer wildly at the base of her thumb. Wishing he could soothe her worries, he stroked a knuckle over the throbbing vein.
Just then, with the scent of her fragrance tickling his nose and the softness of her skin calling to his hands, he wanted to taste her. What if he lowered his mouth to hers for a kiss right here? Right now?
“Fair warning, Cal. I’m not most people.” She tugged her hand from his and levered open the passenger door before he could get around the car and help her out.
Cal scrambled to follow her while the music from the baseball stadium blared out onto the parking area over the sound system. The scent of popcorn and hot dogs already permeated the air, as a couple of boys in ball caps streaked past playing a game of tag.
Tonight, he needed Josie. And damned if he didn’t want her, too. She might be hiding secrets of her own, but at least he understood that about her from the start. This way, there wouldn’t be any surprises or false promises. No blame or broken hearts when it ended.
From where he was standing, it looked like the start of a promising temporary relationship.
All he had to do was convince her of that.
*
It took Josiethree innings before she could focus on the game.
The stadium was only half-full, but that still put her in a crowd of over three thousand people with all the noise and activity that went with it. For someone more comfortable at home reading a good book, the venue was a little overwhelming. The vendors carrying peanuts and cotton candy through the hard metal stands shouted prices, while a commentator made observations about the game over a loudspeaker system. Fans waved foam fingers and felt pennant flags. As the sun set over perfectly mown grass, the stadium lights came on, illuminating the field.
But the action on the field was only a small part of what claimed her attention. More near at hand, the Ramsey family drama played out in living color. Clint Ramsey was obviously a popular guy, and he’d arrived after the rest of his “party bus” guests had already been seated in a special luxury suite with tables and private service for their group. She and Cal had arrived on the open deck first to claim their seats during batting practice, but within an hour, the reserved section filled with visitors from Last Stand ready to support a hometown player.
Cal shook hands and made a point of introducing her to a handful of people. She spent some time visiting with a local doctor, Graham McBride, and his girlfriend Bella Benson who was a blonde beauty with rainbow stripes at the ends of her hair. Josie never settled into a conversation for long though, as Cal navigated them through the crowd. She guessed that having her there gave him something to talk about besides his own baseball career. Right about the time someone would say, “Sorry to hear—” Cal would jump in with: “Have you met Josie?”
She could tell how much everyone liked Cal by the way they all let the topic slide.
Right up until Cal’s father had arrived midway through the second inning. She’d recognized him from photographs at Hailey’s house. Clint Ramsey might be graying and a little less muscular than his offspring, but he was still a handsome man. He’d strolled onto the party deck with his carefully coiffed wife, greeting people on all sides, but never acknowledging his son.
“Are the two of you not on speaking terms?” she asked Cal softly once the third inning began and the two Ramsey men hadn’t greeted one another.
She and Cal shared a round table closest to the field on the multi-level party deck just past the bleachers on the third base side. Cal’s father and his wife were seated at a table behind them.
“We’re speaking. This is normal.” Cal sipped his beer before continuing. “How are you liking the game?”
“There’s way too much for my brain to process. Honestly, I’ve hardly noticed the game.” She peered up at the flashing screen in the outfield that posted player statistics, ads and goofy graphics between batters. “The massive television over there, for example. It’s like an assault on the senses.”
Cal laughed lightly, a sound she was coming to enjoy the longer she knew him. He didn’t seem like a man who laughed often enough.
“What a refreshing perspective. Cheers to you for finding other things to focus on.” He clinked his glass to her mostly full beer still on the table. “Before we were old enough to play baseball, my father would drag us to games and critique our stat books afterward. So even when we couldn’t make our own stats, we were graded on how efficiently we recorded other people’s.”
“Stat books?” She had no idea what he was talking about.
“Doesn’t matter.” He set his beer back down. “Don’t look now, but he’s headed this way.”
Tension pulled her muscles tight, making her wonder why she’d agree to come when her own relationship with a parent was so fraught with stress. As if she had a clue how to defuse that sort of situation. But then again, she’d found it tough to deny Cal help when he’d been willing to admit that weakness himself.
She ground her teeth together and willed herself to be pleasant. Social. Normal. But when she glanced around to greet Cal’s father, she noticed he wasn’t looking at her.
Dressed in a crisp white polo shirt and khakis, the elder Ramsey’s attention was on the field even when he dropped into the open bench seat across from Cal.
“Of all the nights for Moose to drop Nate in the order it had to be tonight,” the elder Ramsey began without preamble. “What are the chances your brother will get a hit when he’s demoralized over batting ninth?”
Josie watched Cal’s jaw flex. Felt the strain in the air. Maybe it was because her own mother treated her like a second-class citizen, but something in her wouldn’t let Cal’s father ruin her night at the ballpark with Cal.
“Hi,” she greeted him brightly, extending her hand across the table. “I’m Josie Vance.”
