Baseball and Other Lessons (Devil's Ranch Book 2) (5 page)

Bo snorted. “Matt, you might want to drop it. Don’t upset your mama.”

Sarah shook her head. “Oh, he’s not upsetting me, honey. I trusted you back then and I trust you now. I think poor Jo was the real victim.”

“What about me? I’m the one she stopped talking to.”

Matt’s gaze ping-ponged from Bo to Sarah to Chase. Now this was interesting. Much better than inaccurate tweets about the future of his career.

“Oh, honey, I know you got hurt in that whole mess, too, but Jo lost so much. Her parents. Us. You. All she had were Jenn and her grandma.”

“I know, Mom. Jo wasn’t the only one who got hurt, though.”

Sarah walked around the island and looped an arm around Chase’s waist. “Oh, honey. I know that. Try to forgive her, though—for your sake and for hers. She was just a girl, and what her mama did, the way that woman behaved, it wasn’t right.”

Matt wanted to ask questions. He knew that Jo’s mom had been—to be nice—a bit promiscuous. If he were being honest and blunt, from what he’d heard and seen, Chandra Sommers could have given some of the worst jersey chasers a run for their money when it came to slutty behavior. Instead, he stayed quiet, interested in what wasn’t being said rather than what was. Had Chandra gone after Chase? Or even weirder, his dad?

“Son, you’ve been in love with that girl since you were in elementary school, and she’s loved you just as long. Don’t let her slip away again—you might not get another chance.”

Chase shook his head and placed the last hamburger patty on the cookie sheet with the others, and moved to the sink. “I’m not in love with her, Dad. We’re friends, still trying to feel each other out.”

Matt tried not to laugh—he really did—but just couldn’t hold it in. Chase’s glare had him laughing even harder. “Sorry, it’s just that with the way the two of you look at each other, there’s no feeling out involved whatsoever, more like everyone around you is waiting to see how long it’ll take for the room to catch on fire.”

Chase’s shoulders were tense as he washed his hands—a little longer than necessary, Matt thought—and said, “Just stay out of it, Matt.”

Their parents were watching their byplay curiously, which made Matt want to laugh again. “I am staying out of it. I just happen to think that you and Jo are good for each other. I don’t know all of Jo’s story—just what I’ve managed to pick up here and there—but both of you obviously have trust issues that you need to work out. What I do know is that you make each other smile, and that last night was the happiest I’ve seen you in a while.”

Chase had turned off the water and was in the process of drying off his hands. “What do you know, Matt? You’ve barely been around for the past ten years.”

Matt shrugged. “What I know is that baseball and life are both games of failure, and it isn’t about the failure itself, but how you respond to the failure. So you both screwed up and failed once. You have a second chance. How are you going to respond?”

Chase threw the towel onto the island. “See what I’ve been dealing with? Baseball Yoda!”

Matt smiled and turned towards the living room. “Speaking of baseball, I do believe there’s a game coming on.”

As he walked into the living room his smile fell. As much fun as it was to dish out advice to Chase, his little brother wasn’t the only one who’d screwed up and failed once upon a time. And just like Chase, he was being given the opportunity to respond to that failure. The problem was, Jenn didn’t seem to be remotely interested in letting him atone for his mistakes.

It's not like you've tried all that hard, either.
He turned on the game, hoping to shut his conscience up.

#

Jenn stood on Chase’s front porch, her hand hovering just above the doorknob, ready to turn it and walk inside.

Except she couldn’t.

Her hand just stayed there, an inch away from the knob. It wouldn’t move. Refused, really.

She looked at that hand. Such an ordinary hand. It did things for her all the time. Dialed her phone. Held a knitting needle. Petted her cat. Wrote on the dry erase board in her classroom.

So why couldn’t it open a freaking door?

She shook her head. Looked at her hand. Willed it to just turn. the. damned. knob.

Ugh! What the hell was wrong with her?

She could hear voices from inside. Bo and Sarah. Chase. Matt.

Freaking Matt.

Why was she so freaked out about seeing him, anyway? It wasn’t like they hadn’t seen each other last night. Hell, they’d spent time
alone
with each other last night. Well, alone in a Whataburger. Whatever. There hadn’t been the buffer of Chase, Jo or Owen, or even the distraction of jersey chasers.

It had been weird.

Unsettling.

Somehow, over the past ten years, Matt had grown up a little bit. He’d once been a brash, cocky young pitcher experiencing the kind of success most little boys only dream about. Last night, he’d been a quiet, sort of funny, surprisingly introspective man who seemed a little tired.

He was still a jerk, though.

“Does the door knob have teeth or something?”

Jenn jumped at the sound of Owen’s voice, her hand slamming up against her chest.

Hey, her hand finally moved!

“Jesus, Owen, you scared me.”

“Sorry. The way you were just standing there, I was wondering if I’d somehow fallen into that scene from Labyrinth.”

Jenn fought to get her racing heart under control. “Which scene?”

Owen raised a red eyebrow. “Wow. You must be really out of it today. The scene where she’s having to choose which door to open?”

Considering she’d seen Labyrinth, oh, sixty someodd times, the fact that she hadn’t immediately picked up on Owen’s reference was worrisome to say the least.

Freaking Matt.

“None shall pass,” she murmured. That was somehow weirdly appropriate. Or at least it felt weirdly appropriate.

“Well then, may I have your permission, my lady?” Owen bowed, making Jenn laugh.

She gestured towards the door. “By all means.”

Owen stepped up onto the wide front porch and stood beside her. “So this door isn’t going to bite me or grab me and take me into a crazy world full of goblins and puppets?”

“Goblins, maybe. I don’t know about the puppets.”

Owen nodded. “Right.”

He wrapped his hand around the knob, but paused before turning it. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Jenn smiled. Owen really was a great friend. The best. “I’m fine. Just a little tired.”

“Matt keep you up late last night?”

Something that sounded like a fork caught in a garbage disposal rumbled out of Jenn’s throat. Owen slapped her on the back a few times, only making it worse.

Oh, God. She couldn’t breathe.

She was going to die on Chase’s front porch with Owen thinking God knew what.

“Holy shit, Jenn. Did you and Matt…?” Owen asked, his voice a low whisper.

Jenn shook her head, breathed through her nose. Jesus, she needed to calm the fuck down.

Stat.

Otherwise people were going to get the wrong idea about her and Matt.

Or maybe it was the right idea. Hell, she didn’t even know anymore.

Owen rubbed her back as she fought to get her breathing under control. “Care to tell me what that was all about?”

Jenn groaned and rested her head on his shoulder. “Sorry. I think a bug flew down my throat.”

“Uh huh.”

She squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed.
Pull yourself together, woman
.

"I'm fine, really.”

“No, you’re not.”

She sighed. “You’re right. I’m really not, but I kind of have to be, or at least I have to try to act like everything’s okay and it’s totally not okay.”

“Am I going to have to drag it out of you?”

Jenn stepped back and tightened her ponytail. “Yes and no.”

Owen raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms over his chest, leveling her with that look of his that made her want to confess all of her crazy thoughts and secrets. He really did know her too well. Better than Chase in some ways.

She drew in a deep breath. “I’ll be fine, Owen. You know Matt and I don’t get along.”

“I’ve always wondered why that was.”

She lifted one shoulder in a gesture she hoped came across as casual. Knowing her luck she probably just looked like she had a twitch. “We just don’t. Never really have.”

“That’s not the way I understand it. From what I’ve heard you were pretty indifferent towards each other growing up, and then one day you suddenly hated each other.”

That was so not the truth. It was just easier to let everyone believe that. “Owen, it’s not a big deal. Just let it go, okay?”

He looked her over. Shook his head. Sighed. “I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation. I feel like a fucking girl.”

She snorted. “Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.”

As she finally grabbed the door knob and twisted it, Owen dropped his voice to just above a whisper and asked, “You know your secret’s safe with me, too, right?”

The door swung open and she stepped inside. Her gaze immediately went to Matt—damn it—and she flushed from head to toe when he turned his head away from the game on TV and stared back at her, heat and wariness mingling in his hazel eyes. She nodded her head. Managed to look away from all that masculine temptation and step all the way into the foyer.

Beside her, Owen whistled low, chuckled and whispered in her ear, “So how long have you two been sleeping together?”

She elbowed him in the stomach and hightailed it towards the kitchen.

Chapter Five

Matt resisted the urge
to follow Jenn into the kitchen, and instead stayed where he was in the living room, standing beside the couch and pretending to watch the Nationals beat up on the Cubs. The Wranglers’ game was due to start in about thirty minutes.

He was trying not to think about the fact that today would have been his day to start.

Instead of standing in his brother’s living room, he should have been standing on the mound, tossing warmup pitches to Miguel, who was back with the Wranglers this season after having been traded to Detroit five years ago. Miguel had made it to the bigs a year before Matt, and for the first five years of Matt’s career he had been the starting catcher. When the team had brought Miguel back this year, Matt hadn’t hesitated to ask for Miguel as his primary catcher. It was like no time at all had passed, and the two had picked up where they’d left off. There was a lot to be said about having a good relationship with your catcher, and Matt and Miguel’s chemistry had led to Matt teasing with a handful of no hitters this season, not to mention the perfect game he’d been throwing before he took a line drive to the head.

Stupid fucking line drive.

He was pulled out of his self-indulgent pity party by Owen stepping next to him. The other man crossed his arms over his chest, pinned his gaze on the television and quietly said, “I know you’re not the player the public seems to think you are, and that you’re deep down a pretty decent guy, but don’t fuck with Jenn.”

Matt turned his head and looked at Owen. “I’m not.”

Owen met Matt’s gaze. “I’m not saying you are, but I’m telling you not to. Jenn’s like a sister to me, and she comes across like she’s tough as nails, but she’s not.”

“I think she’s tougher than you’re giving her credit for.” Matt wasn’t sure how he knew that, but he did. While he knew just how soft Jenn could be—dammit—he also knew that she was strong and had rock solid core beliefs.

He also suspected what had happened between them ten years ago had been a complete aberration on her part.

Some people just weren’t built for casual, and he’d bet his entire savings account that Jenn was one of those people.

#

Ten Years Ago, San Antonio, Texas

This wasn’t a casual thing.

Matt wasn’t sure what it was, but he did know it wasn’t casual.

It was hard to be casual with someone you’d known for almost twenty years, who’d known you long before you became the guy everyone thought they knew.

He shook his head. Hell, that barely made sense to him, and he was the one who’d thought it.

They'd come back up to Jenn's hotel room--he glanced at the alarm clock on the night stand—God, three hours ago. Three hours of talking and laughing. Curfew had been an hour ago, and he’d completely missed it.

Hopefully no one had figured out he wasn’t where he was supposed to be.

Not that he was doing anything wrong. He was just spending some time with an old friend. An old friend who until three hours ago had been someone he could barely call a friend. She’d been more than an acquaintance, obviously, but they’d never really been
friends
. While he’d known surface things about her—like her job, that she had a great sense of humor and that she wasn’t partial to having frogs shoved down her bathing suit—he hadn’t ever really bothered to scratch below the surface. She’d always been his little brother’s best friend, and that had been more than enough to keep him at arm’s length.