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Monday Puzzler
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Monday Puzzler: 04/04/2022
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I wasn’t normally a violent person, and it wasn’t as if I had anything with R that my ex could ruin, but Ex BF had definitely interfered somehow, which set my teeth on edge. We were no longer together because of him. I’d thought he was the one. In fact, I had stupidly assumed that he was going to propose the night he took me to a fancy restaurant on Mount Washington just to break up with me. Also, his new girlfriend was on the team, for heaven’s sake. Did she know that he was telling guys not to talk to me? She probably wouldn’t appreciate him interfering in my life any more than I did.
“What is wrong with you?” Ex BF growled in my ear as we headed off the field for our first break.
“It isn’t my fault you can’t catch the ball,” I replied without sparing him a glance.
“You’re trying to take my head off.”
Stopping, I turned with narrowed eyes. “If I really wanted to hurt you, I’d have planted that ball between your eyes by now and you know I could do it.”
“You’re kicking butt today, M,” said Fiona as she came up behind us. “Nice arm.”
“Thank you,” I said, flashing Ex BF a screw-you smile. “Say, Fiona, how long have you and Ex BF been together?”
I asked the question loud enough for all to hear and wasn’t surprised to see R look our way with a confused gaze.
“It’ll be four months next week,” she replied. “If I keep him that long.” The chuckle that followed those words revealed quite a bit about their relationship. She was kidding, but there was an underlying thread of truth, too.
“You two are dating?” R asked her.
“Yeah,” she said. “You didn’t know?”
Brown eyes narrowed on Ex BF. “No, I thought—”
“Now everyone knows,” Ex BF cut in. “Babe, let me get you some water.” He dragged Fiona to the cooler and elbowed past two people to grab a paper cup.
I took a seat on the bench and R dropped down next to me. “I didn’t—” he started, but I would not let him apologize for something that wasn’t his fault.
“Ex BF and I dated for three years, but we broke up eight months ago. I don’t know why he’d make you think otherwise.”
“I can think of one reason,” he replied.
Shaking my head, I watched my ex hand his new girlfriend a cup of water. “We haven’t even spoken since we broke up. Not until last Friday, anyway. Trust me, there’s nothing there.”
We sat in silence after that, but a good silence. The kind where you know a hurdle just got moved out of the way, and you get to decide if you want to move on past it.
“We’re good then?” he asked.
I wasn’t completely sure what that meant, but I nodded. “I’m good if you are.”
“Yeah. All good.”
Barely breathing, I waited for him to say more, but the silence continued until Coach called us back to the field. There were a few smiles exchanged as we once again worked in sync at second base, but nothing beyond that. Maybe he was shy. I’d gone out of my way to make sure he knew about Ex BF and Fiona, so at least now he knew I was available.
As practice came to an end, we walked off the field together and I tried to muster up the courage to ask him something. Anything. Was he going to the bar with everyone else? Was he free this weekend? Did he like short brunettes who owned too many books?
“Who all is coming to the bar?” Dalton asked, and as players said yes or no, I glanced over to R.
“Are you going?” I asked.
“Are you?” he said.
I couldn’t tell if his tone was hopeful or just curious. “I can go for a little while.”
R nodded as his full lips turned up in a heart stopping grin. “Then I’ll see you there.”
OOOh no idea but I love sportsball romance!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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Don't know it but I'm keen to find out more. Thanks for sharing. :-)
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OOh thanks for this Okie! I haven't read any of her books!
Thanks I missed this post. Will take a look at this book.
I nearly turned around to go back for the letter three times on the way to practice. Why would my mother send me a letter now? What could she possibly have to say after pretending I didn’t exist for more than two decades? Did she want forgiveness? Did she want a relationship? Did I? I was so distracted by the questions racing through my mind that I nearly missed the turn for Banksville Park. Hanging a quick left, I pushed the letter from my mind and braced for the trial ahead.
One ordeal at a time.
Spotting Ex BF’s red Dodge Charger, I parked my gray Civic hatchback as far down the lot as possible. He’d always wanted me to upgrade to something more exciting. Something bright and sporty. Even my car was boring in Ex BF’s opinion.
Shading my eyes from the late-day sun, I peered over the players warming up on the field. The Banksville Bombers. I couldn’t believe I’d finally made the team. Players were paired up, tossing the ball back and forth, and I hoped I could find someone still available to warm up with.
Without knowing the full roster, I couldn’t be sure how many teammates I already knew, but there were definitely a few familiar faces, most of whom I knew through Ex BF. Then I spotted Roxanne, who I’d played with on two teams before and breathed a sigh of relief. She was tall, sweet, and had been the only person who messaged me kind words of support after the breakup.
I’d been too upset to play the spring season, and no one except Roxanne seemed to notice my absence.
Opening my hatch, I reached in for my gear bag and forgot that the hydraulics that kept the door up weren’t what they used to be. With a thud, hard plastic smacked the back of my skull. I was still seeing stars when a voice said, “Are you okay?”
Startled, I spun around and inadvertently slammed the bag, bat end first, into the stranger’s stomach. He doubled over with an oomph.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, dropping the bag onto the pavement. “I didn’t realize you were so close.” I bent to see his face. “Can you breathe? I’m really sorry.”
The man held up a hand but remained bent over. “I’m good. Just give me a second.”
If this was a stranger, I’d just made a horrible first impression. All I could see was black hair curling around the edges of a ball cap so I wasn’t sure if I knew him or not.
“Okay,” he said, straightening and rubbing a hand over his sternum. I definitely didn’t know him. “If you swing a bat as well as you swing that bag, we’re going to have a good season.” Lips slanted into a grin as he extended a hand. “I’m R S. Sorry I scared you like that.”
Accepting the greeting, I tried not to stare, but he was so cute I couldn’t help it. His eyes were the color of aged whiskey and surrounded by the longest lashes I’d ever seen on a man. A barely-there five-o’clock shadow covered his narrow jawline, and the grin revealed a perfect row of white teeth. At five foot two, I was used to being towered over, but that wasn’t the case with this man. I guessed him to be maybe five eight or nine, and his hand was soft and warm against mine.
“M K,” I said, amazed I was able to get the two words past my lips. Speaking of lips, his were utterly perfect. Full and smooth and distractingly kissable. “I’m late.”
R shook his head. “Practice doesn’t start for another five minutes so we’re both on time.”
“Oh. Right.” I retrieved my bag from the ground and lifted it onto my shoulder. “I don’t usually like to cut it so close, but I forgot to take a change of clothes to work.” As if my brain and mouth had disengaged, I continued to babble. “Luckily, the traffic wasn’t too bad on the way here. Did you hit traffic?”
Why couldn’t I make my mouth shut up?
“I live in Greentree so it wasn’t bad.” Pointing to the field, he said, “Looks like we might be the last two. You want to warm up?”
I nearly said no for fear I’d get too distracted staring at his face and take a ball to the nose. Unable to come up with an excuse that wouldn’t reveal my odd instant crush or come off sounding rude, I accepted. “Sure.”
We walked together in silence across the outfield to the third base bench. Dropping our bags, we both pulled out our gloves and R said, “I’ll get a ball from the bucket and meet you in left.”
Nodding, I trotted onto the field and spotted Roxanne twenty yards away. She was warming up with a man I didn’t know. To her left were EX BF and a woman I assumed to be Fiona. If so, Miriam’s assumption had been very wrong. The woman was an African goddess with the body of an Olympic athlete turned supermodel. I, on the other hand, was a pasty garden gnome with childbearing hips and knobby knees.
Making Fiona a considerable upgrade.
This personal assessment did not come from a lack of self-esteem. I was cute in a Are you old enough to be in this bar? kind of way. When I was forty people would still assume I was barely out of college, which had its advantages. But there were times when I wished I looked like a grown woman. One with a swanlike neck, legs that went on for days, and an innate sophistication that made men want to be in my orbit.
Like Fiona.
“You ready?” asked R, startling me once again. I really needed to cut back on that afternoon cup of coffee.
“I am.” I jogged toward the outfield fence to put some distance between us and held up my glove. “Fire away.”
Three tosses later, I was relieved to know I wasn’t nearly as rusty as I’d feared. Keeping my focus on the ball and not the couple forty yards over proved more difficult than I liked, but R’s smile helped. Since I knew little about him besides his name and the fact he lived in Greentree, I forced myself not to get carried away. He could have a girlfriend or a wife. Or a husband for that matter.
Plus, I’d already done the date a fellow player thing and look how that turned out. Did I want to try that again?
“Come on in!” came a voice from in front of home plate as the ball landed in my glove.
Everyone headed for the infield, and as I stepped from grass to dirt, Ex BF appeared next to me. “Hey there.”
Elated and annoyed and annoyed that I was elated, I kept my eyes straight ahead. “Hi.”
“I’m glad you’re here. I was afraid you might not play.”
“Why wouldn’t I?” I asked, genuinely curious what he would say.
“Well…” he hedged. “You know.”
Stopping, I turned his way. “No, I don’t know. Why wouldn’t I play, Ex BF?” He knew how much I loved softball, and he knew how badly I’d wanted to be on this team. Did he really think I’d give up everything just to avoid seeing his stupid face? This was exactly why I had to play.
Eyes wide, he remained silent.
“Gather around so we can sort out positions,” said Barry Brownhurst, the man who had coached this team to the league championship six years running.
No longer interested in whatever Ex BF might say, I walked away and joined the others. I didn’t come here to fight with Fletcher. I came to play ball. And that’s what I planned to do.
************
“I’m fine. Fiona is nice. And gorgeous. And a really good player.” Jaw tight, I added, “Fletcher is another story.”
Miriam lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “What did he do?”
I spun to face her and crossed my arms as I summarized. “First, he sent a text asking if I wanted a ride to practice.”
“As if.”
“Exactly. Then he caught me at the start of practice and said he was glad that I decided to play. As if I might be too brokenhearted to play on the team I’ve been fighting to join since before I met him.”
Miriam mirrored my pose. “He makes me so mad. I wish you didn’t have to deal with him.”
I hadn’t mentioned Ryan at lunch on Saturday, but then I’d been too distracted by the letter. Today, I needed to vent about that situation as well.
“There’s a new guy on the team. He just moved to the city earlier in the year and we seemed to hit it off.”
Her anger fled as she sat up straighter. “Oh, this is good. What’s his name? Did you get his number?”
She was about to get angry all over again. “I didn’t get that far thanks to Fletcher. He said something to Ryan during a water break and from then on he barely looked my way.”
“Wait, Ryan is the new guy?”
“Yes.”
“And Fletcher said something to make him stop talking to you?”
I didn’t know that for sure. “He could have said anything, but why else would this guy suddenly start treating me like I was off-limits?”
“You are very much on-limits,” Miriam paused. “In-limits? Whatever it is, you’re available and this guy needs to know that.”
“Right? I’m going to see what happens at practice tonight before I decide whether or not to say something. I mean, I don’t know much about the new guy. He could be taken or just not interested, but if Fletcher is the reason for the abrupt change of attitude, I want to know.”
Expression softening, she tapped me on the leg. “I like this feistiness. You’re getting some of your old spark back.”
I’d never thought of myself as having any sort of spark. “I don’t know about that.”
“I do. And I like it.”