They seemed stiff together. Totally ill at ease.
Throughout the speech, Natalie's eyes returned to Zen. Aaron's own gaze didn't miss her interest in the shortstop. His expression tightened, his frown cutting the corners of his mouth.
Then there was Stevie, casting glances at Aaron. Long, meaningful glances that laid her heart bare. To complete the circle, Zen eyed Stevie with utmost concern and something… deeper. The crowd shifted, blocking her view of Zen before Jacy could determine his feelings.
Jacy blinked. So many looks! Some disguised. Others open. All penetrating. When she caught sight of Risk's high school sweetheart sneaking onto the redwood deck, Jacy's stomach knotted as Sherry Sherman of the big smile and bigger breasts squeezed through the crowd. Obviously, she was seeking out Risk.
The look in Sherry's eyes indicated her willingness and availability, her desire to catch up on old times. She wanted a hot, juicy foot long.
Not necessarily a hot dog.
Chapter 6
The two hot dogs Jacy Grayson had forced down at the barbecue did not agree with her. Her stomach hurt, as did her heart. Standing beneath a white-hot sun in center field, she adjusted her scarlet straw hat with the white satin band and big red rose. Stylish, yet more appropriate for Kentucky Derby fashion than a softball game, she'd chosen the hat for its broad brim. It kept the sun out of her eyes.
Shifting her stance, she slapped her baseball glove against her thigh. She wished she could forget what had happened at the barbecue.
Uninvited, yet undaunted, Sherry Sherman had cornered Risk on the redwood deck and discussed the auction. She'd paid big bucks for the man and wanted a second night on the town.
The moment had been awkward. Risk had turned to Jacy, then informed Sherry he had other plans. Sherry grew insistent. Her voice had sharpened, risen, and her features had twisted, her color high.
Risk had tried to pacify her with brunch on Sunday. Sherry wanted Saturday night.
Jacy only wanted to get away from the woman.
The louder Sherry raised her voice, the more people looked their way. Bowing out gracefully, Jacy faded into the crowd. She kept right on walking, even when Risk called her back. She'd woven through the caddies until she'd bumped into Romeo. Risk's gaze had burned a hole in her back when she'd stopped to chat with the third baseman. When Romeo covered his zipper with his hand, Jacy knew he was protecting his boys from Risk's cutting stare.
After shared hot dogs and raspberry lemonade, Romeo had offered her a ride to the high school diamond. She'd accepted. Stevie had assumed Jacy would leave with Risk, and had departed with Zen Driscoll. Risk, however, remained with Sherry. He'd stood Jacy up at the stadium the previous night. She wouldn't be left behind again today.
Risk had arrived at the ball field on the bumper of Psycho's Dodge Ram. Risk's expression was tight, his eyes narrowed, as Romeo clutched her waist and lifted her from the cab.
Risk had approached her then, his lip curled. "Bat Packing?" he'd asked.
She saw no reason for him to be riled. "A ride is a ride."
"Did you sit on Romeo's lap?"
"That was an option. However, I sardine-squeezed between him and Chaser."
"You should have waited for me."
Jacy glanced at his Lotus. Sherry Sherman was easing from the low-slung car. "Definitely room for three," she said sarcastically.
"Wait for me after the game," he insisted.
"Doubt there will be any more room going than there was coming." She'd headed toward the dugout then, joining the hometown team, slipped her baseball jersey over her top and laced on a pair of metallic-silver high-tops with tangerine laces.
"Play ball!" The umpire now shouted to start the softball game. Jacy jumped and once again focused on the ballpark. On the cheers and applause of the fans. On Risk Kincaid headed to bat. On Sherry Sherman, who stood behind the fence of the players' dugout and shook her pom-poms for old time's sake. All very juvenile to Jacy's way of thinking.
She fanned her face with her glove, then proceeded to unbutton the top two buttons on her baseball jersey, white with a gold stripe, and the inscription Frostproof's Finest across the back. It was damn hot in the outfield. No breeze, just beating sunshine. She wiped her brow with the back of her hand.
As the crowd looked on, Stevie pitched the first ball. Risk didn't hesitate. He started the tournament the exact same way he'd ended the World Series. With a ball flying long and strong in Jacy's direction. The ball soared over her head and beyond the outfield fence. She watched it fly. So high, it could have knocked a bird out of the sky.
Fortunately for her, a group of boys chased after the softball. She wasn't about to retrieve it from the dense bushes that bordered the fence. She didn't need the scratches or the off chance of a snake. Let the boys have their souvenir.
Moving like an action hero, Risk jogged around the bases. Smooth and fluid. Incredibly handsome. Magnificently fit. Utterly irresistible. He had the crowd on its feet, clapping and stomping the bleachers. Sherry Sherman crossed to home plate and rewarded Risk's power hit with a kiss, full on the lips. The resounding smack could be heard all the way in the outfield.
Jacy clenched her jaw. Jealousy was beneath her. She refused to get caught up in Sherry and Risk and their high school reunion.
Play continued until Stevie called, "Third out, we're up to bat." Jacy trotted toward the dugout.
She passed Risk as he headed to center field. He wore his Richmond Rogues jersey, red with a blue stripe, and a pair of worn jeans. He snagged her upper arm and brought her to a halt.
Beneath the bill of his baseball cap, his gaze bored into her. "You're reading more into the Sherry Sherman situation than is warranted."
She scrunched up her nose. "What's warranted?"
"Sherry is coming on strong. She's flirting—"
"And kissing you."
"—and it means nothing to me."
"You're telling me this because… ?"
"I felt you needed to know. I don't want you upset."
"To be upset, I'd have.to be jealous. And I'm not," she lied through her teeth. "At least she's not humping your thigh."
"Not funny, Jacy."
"I'll laugh if I want."
She would have too, had Romeo not called to her. "Jacy, sweetheart, you're holding up the game. It's your turn at bat."