I Crosse My Heart, page 2
“Rafe missed the opportunity to get your number last night,” Headlock Guy said.
“Yeah, what a bonehead.” A third guy, just as handsome as Rafe, joined them at the fence. “Can I have it instead?”
“Justin, don’t you have a girlfriend back home?”
Justin grinned, elbowing Rafe in the ribs. “What she don’t know won’t hurt me.”
Disgusted by the remark, Kallie turned to leave.
“Wait.” Rafe lightly touched her arm. “At least tell me your name.”
“Kallie,” she stammered softly as electricity crackled from the barely-there contact, which ended almost as soon as it began. Brief though it was, his fingers left a lasting impression on her skin. “I’m Kallie.”
“Well, Kallie, it’s nice to finally meet you. I’m Rafe.” He pointed to his teammates. “Justin and Lucas.”
“Nice to meet you guys. Good luck tonight.”
Headlock Guy – Lucas – nodded. “Thanks.”
“I bet a kiss from you would give him twice the luck,” Justin teased.
Rafe’s face turned red, and Kallie shook her head. Boys. They’re so predictable.
“Kiss her already,” Lucas said. “Coach is calling us to start the game.”
Rafe leaned closer, within kissing distance. “Would you mind if I did?”
Kallie found herself drowning in green eyes dark enough to match the color of his jersey. His eyes had haunted her since last night, and his lips had tempted her to kiss him while she’d been in his arms. Definitely a better memory than the fight that had ensued later that evening. A tremble quaked through her, but not from fear. She’d dreamed of how his lips would feel on hers, but finding out for real had never been a possibility.
How could she say no?
She nodded.
Kallie wasn’t sure who moved first – him or her – as she met him halfway across the fence. The people in the ballpark faded into obscurity as their lips clung in a first kiss so right, so perfect, that she didn’t want it to end. Eventually he drew away. The smattering of applause made blood rush to her face. I can’t believe I just did that in front of so many people! She glanced around from the corner of her eye. Surprisingly, not many people had paid attention. Just Rafe’s teammates, which only increased her discomfort.
“Well, Kallie,” Justin said as both she and Rafe regained their composure. “If we don’t win tonight, we’ll know whose fault it is.”
“G-good luck,” she stammered, still trying to find her balance as Lucas and Justin continued giving Rafe a hard time.
All three players grinned at her. But it was Lucas who spoke. “Thanks, Kallie.”
She nodded, still dazed from the intense connection, then took off toward the concessions on the other side of the stadium, excitement fizzing through her blood.
That was better than she’d dreamt!
What if he doesn’t feel the same way? What if he does? Yet her head cautioned her heart to keep from going too far too fast. He could be as big a player off the field as on.
RAFE WATCHED UNTIL Kallie disappeared around the bleachers, the feel of her lips lingering on his. He’d been receiving pregame good-luck kisses most of his career, but nothing had prepared him for Kallie. The moment their lips touched, a fire ignited in his gut. Hell, the stadium had melted to nothing, which had never happened before.
Something told him that she was different from the other girls he’d dated. Not that he’d had many girlfriends – only one steady from high school and a very short string of casuals during his first two years of college – but even then, he’d recognized something was off.
His ex, Talia, had kept pushing for commitment, even though he’d made it clear that baseball was his main focus. She hadn’t taken too kindly to playing second-fiddle to his dreams, and a screaming match... (mostly from her)...had ended their relationship after their first year of college.
Rafe shook his head, sloughing off the thoughts of his past.
“Dude, that was some serious lip lock,” Lucas said as they made their way back toward the bullpen.
“Yeah,” Justin agreed. “But you still didn’t get her number.”
Lucas laughed. “What guy kisses a girl and doesn’t get her number?” He formed an L with his thumb and index finger, holding it up to his forehead. “A loser.”
“Hey,” the first-base coach yelled. “Get your heads in the game!”
“Yes, sir,” Justin said, still grinning. To Rafe he said, “Let’s go hunt some geese!”
Laughing, Rafe sprinted toward the bullpen and prepared his muscles for nine innings of baseball. He went through the exercises by rote, his mind only half on what he was doing. The other half was on Kallie. He hadn’t stopped thinking about her since last night. Their kiss had been better than he’d imagined.
Yet as he continued his pregame ritual to center his focus, he couldn’t completely dispel Kallie’s image. But he refused to worry whether thoughts of her would throw him off his game.
THE CONCESSION STAND line was backed up to the beer stand on the opposite side of the shelter, and it took forever for Kallie to get her food. She barely made it back to her seat in time to hear the starting lineups.
“Who was that guy you kissed?” Amy asked as Kallie sat back down.
“His name is Rafe.” She pointed to where he stood outside the dugout.
“Oh, he’s gorgeous!”
Kallie nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly.
Amy waggled her eyebrows. “And he wears his uniform so well.”
Kallie blushed, saying nothing as she lifted her sandwich to her lips.
“So...how did you meet him?”
Kallie sighed and set the sandwich back in the paper boat sitting on her lap, mourning the loss of the first bite. “Last night.”
Amy’s eyes narrowed. “On the Bluff?”
Kallie nodded. “I bumped into him on the way back to my truck after sunset.”
Amy didn’t let up. “Were you with anyone?”
“No.”
Amy stiffened. “Of all the stupid –”
“Ladies and gentlemen, the starting lineups!” The announcer cut Amy’s tirade short.
Kallie set her food aside for the pregame festivities as Rochester’s players were introduced first, and they all lined up along the first base chalk line. Goose honks cried out again.
“Anyone have a shotgun?” Amy asked, giggling.
Kallie grinned. “Talk about lining them up and knocking them down.”
“And now...” the announcer interrupted their giggles, “Your...La Crosse...Loggers!”
The crowd cheered as each player was introduced. Kallie shouted when Rafe’s name was called. His uniform pants molded his muscular legs as he ran out onto the field, stopping in shallow center behind second base.
The rest of the team followed. The Coulee Chordsmen, an all-male singing group, sang the National Anthem. Kallie cheered with the crowd when the song ended, and more goose honks rang out. She sat down and finally dug into her food as the pitcher threw the first pitch.
Her sandwich had grown cold.
AS RAFE TOOK THE FIELD in the top of the first inning, he couldn’t help searching the stands for Kallie. He knew she’d be watching, which gave him an unexpected boost of pride. Was she by herself? With friends? Guy friends? Or girlfriends?
The crack from the wooden bat jerked Rafe’s thoughts back to the game as the ball sped across the ground toward him.
“Crap!” he muttered and dropped his glove to intercept. Except, the ball rolled right past him into shallow left field. The outfielder scooped it up and threw it to Justin at first. Not in time, but it kept the runner from getting extra bases.
“Come on, Rafe!” Callan hissed from third base. “Get your head in the game. That could have been a double!”
Grimacing, Rafe nodded at his teammate. Yet he couldn’t seem to keep his eyes on the field and he ended up scanning the seats again.
Another hit by the opposing team sent a second ball his way, at a much higher speed. Sprinting towards it, he scooped up the ball and set up the throw to second base.
The ball slipped from his fingers and dropped to the ground behind him.
Callan grabbed it and held fast, keeping the runners on first and second, before returning the ball to David on the pitcher’s mound.
“Dammit, Rafe!” the second baseman, Brad, scolded. “You should have had that!”
“I’m sorry!” Rafe resisted the urge to throw up his arms in frustration and set his stance for the next play. Silently he promised to do better. The last thing he wanted was to let his teammates and coaches down.
The third batter stepped into the box at home plate.
David threw the next pitches. After a couple that fell outside the strike zone, he finally got one on target.
The hitter connected, sending the ball over the right fielder’s head.
Dejected, Rafe hung his head as the runners ran toward home.
His team was already down three to nothing, and it was all his fault.
In the bottom of the second inning the Honkers were up four to nothing, thanks to Rafe missing another throw to first base in what should have been an easy play. Instead, the ball sailed high and wide, allowing another run to score. During the mid-inning break to allow the sides to switch, Rafe closed his eyes and gave himself a mental shake, pushing all thoughts of Kallie from his head. Grabbing his bat, he gripped either end and bent at the hip flexors, taking a deep breath. Clearing his mind – which wasn’t easy to do given the current direction of his thoughts – he focused on the game.
Inhaling, he stood back up and raised the bat above his head, stretching his arms, before lowering the bat back to waist-level.
“Donaldson!” the field manager barked. “You’re up!”
Nodding, Rafe jogged toward home plate.
Rafe stepped up to the plate for his first at-bat of the game. Even though the infield was turf, he still drew the initials D and S in the brown “dirt” as a remembrance to his former teammate. Dustin Sanders had been one of his best friends, but he’d passed away from leukemia at the beginning of their senior year in high school. Drawing his initials in the dirt with the knob of his bat before every turn was Rafe’s way of keeping his memory alive.
With two outs and bases loaded, Rafe had a chance to tie the game. He set his stance, adjusting his grip on the bat, and waited for his pitch. The first was a curveball strike in the lower right corner. The second pitch a slider strike on the outer left edge. The third was a fastball right down the middle.
Rafe swung...and missed.
The catcher snared the ball with his glove.
Cursing himself for the missed opportunity, he hustled back to the dugout.
He’d screwed up. Big time.
“Where the hell is your head, Donaldson?” the batting coach railed. “With your skills you should have had that fastball.”
“I’m sorry, sir.” Rafe racked his brain for a plausible excuse, but found none. The coach would be madder if he learned that Kallie’s kiss had rattled Rafe more than he cared to admit.
“I suggest you get your head in the game,” the coach bellowed, “or yours will be the shortest career on the team.”
“Yes, sir.” Personally, he felt the ass-chewing was a bit harsh considering it was only the first game of the season, but he had to admit the coach had a point. Kallie’s kiss messed with his concentration.
Lucas grabbed his glove. “Tough outing.”
“Shut up.” Rafe removed his batting helmet, resisting the urge to smash it against the concrete wall as he put on his baseball cap and hustled back onto the field for the next inning. Frustration ate at him, but he couldn’t decide if it was from blowing his turn or not being more upset that Kallie made him lose focus on his game. Shaking his head, he pushed her from his thoughts.
The fourth inning went more smoothly than the first three. Two of the three balls hit came toward him, and his throws to first base were on-target and in-time. His teammate Callan Black caught a pop-up in the warning track in foul territory to end the inning.
Rafe sprinted back to the dugout, still distracted by that pre-game kiss.
Justin took his turn at the plate, and sent the ball sailing over the first-baseman’s head as it landed just inside the foul line and rolled into the other team’s bullpen. The pitchers scattered as the right fielder scrambled to get the ball back in play quickly.
Lucas elbowed Rafe in the ribs. “That’s how you get to first base.”
The double meaning not lost on him, Rafe ignored him and watched his teammates finish the inning. The fans roared in excitement as Callan hit a line drive to deep right field. The ball dropped between two outfielders and smacked the fence before either player could grab it. Though the right fielder hustled to get the ball back into play, Callan easily beat the tag at third for a triple.
Damn it. Rafe grimaced. Should’ve been me.
Brad laughed. Lucas ribbed him again.
Rafe ignored them both. Standing at the fence, he clapped. “Nice job, Callan!”
Callan waved as he removed his elbow and ankle guards.
Looking around the stands, Rafe thought that opening night was rather quiet. The stands were only about two-thirds full, and all of the party cabins beyond the center field wall were locked up. Mitch, a returning pitcher from last summer, mentioned that usually three thousand Copeland Crazies— as the team from 2008 had dubbed the fans — filled the park for almost every home game. It was still the biggest crowd he’d ever played in front of. Back home he’d normally play in front of a few hundred, made up of mostly his teammates’ friends and family.
The game was tied four innings later when Justin took another turn at bat with one out and nobody on base. Rafe watched as Justin swung at the pitch, sending the ball deep into the right-field corner before rolling out of play. Ground-rule double.
Lucas struck out for his turn, and stalked back to the dugout. The coach paid him no heed, making Rafe wonder if it was his kiss with Kallie that prompted the coach’s ass-chewing in the second inning.
Rafe caught the tail end of Lucas’s grumbles and grinned. “I bet you have as much luck with the ladies as you do with those high, outside fastballs.”
“Shut up.” Lucas sat next to him. “I’ll get ‘em next time.”
Unfortunately, the next guy grounded out to end the inning. Unless the team got a rally going, Lucas and Justin had probably seen their last at-bats. The eighth inning played out much the same way as the seventh, with the score still tied.
Top of the ninth inning. Two outs, bases juiced. Rafe was loose and fast at the short-stop position, having redeemed himself after his rocky start. The batter hit a line drive right to him, and he snared it in his glove before the ball hit the ground. Out number three. He jogged back to the dugout, high-fiving his teammates as they patted his backside.
Justin grinned. “Lucky stab.”
“Wasn’t it?” Rafe agreed casually, taking his seat on the bench.
“You probably saved the game with that one.”
“Maybe, maybe not.” Rafe turned his attention to the field, studying the batter. “Depends on what we can do here.”
“Dude.” Brad clapped Rafe on the shoulder. “That was a highlight-reel play.”
Rafe nodded, his eyes never leaving the field. “Mmm.” As far as he was concerned, he was just doing his job. Highlight reels were nice, but they weren’t his main reason for playing.
Callan led off the bottom of the ninth. With his turn coming up. Rafe studied the pitcher, focusing on the other player’s delivery.
“Donaldson,” the field manager bellowed at Rafe. “You’re on deck.”
Rafe donned his batting helmet and protective guards then grabbed his bat from where it leaned against the fence, taking a few practice swings in the on-deck circle near the dugout.
Strike three. His teammate went down swinging for the first out. Rafe drew DS in the brown turf then stepped into the batter’s box and set his stance. The first two pitches were outside the strike zone, so he let them pass. The third was right down the middle.
He connected. Hard.
The loud CRACK! of the wooden bat was music to his ears. The vibrations shook his arms as he followed through, then dropped it as he sprinted for first base. The ball climbed higher as it sailed deep into left-center field. Right over the fence.
Chapter 3
Kallie leapt to her feet, cheering as Rafe jogged around the bases, touching each one as he passed. When he got back to home plate, the players piled on him.
“You’ll have to be at all the home games now,” Amy shouted over the roar of the crowd. “That was your boy!”
Kallie blushed, but said nothing as the team tackled Rafe at home plate. When they finally let him up for air, he was still grinning, still high-fiving and chest-bumping. The team lined up and shook hands with the opposing team’s players and coaches, then returned to the dugout as the fans filed out of the stands.
“Do you want to hang around?” Amy asked as they started down the stairs.
Kallie wanted to stay and see Rafe, but she had to work early in the morning and she didn’t want to look like a groupie. “To be honest, I don’t know what I want.”
“Let’s stick around for a little bit, to see if you can get his attention,” Amy said. “After all, it was your kiss that gave him the impetus to win tonight.”
Kallie wasn’t so sure. He’d had a rocky start to the game with a few throwing errors. She’d caught him looking up into the stands instead of on the field, so she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d been the cause. But after the second inning, his gaze never left the area of home plate. Was he as affected by our kiss as I was?
Several fans stuck around. One of the traditions that the owners encouraged from the beginning was the post-game on-field autograph session. Fans – mostly kids – filed onto the field to meet and get pictures with the players and coaches. Some dashed into the outfield to play catch, or had fun running the bases. Rafe spent time with the youngsters after he finished with post-game interviews.
