Between the Seams

Between the Seams

by

Aubrey Gross

Table of Contents

Title Page

Table of Contents

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Dear Reader

Between the Seams Playlist

Preview: Baseball and Other Lessons

About the Author

Copyright

To my Cowboy, who’s my biggest supporter, my best friend,

and the love of my life. I’m so glad I get to keep you.

Chapter One

“Yo, Chase, did you hear a word of what I just said?”

Chase Roberts snapped out of his reverie and glanced over at Owen Daniels, his best friend, business partner and occasional pain in the ass. “Sure.”

Owen snorted. “No, you didn’t.”

A pretty blonde entered the building across the street, and Chase fought the overwhelming urge to follow her. “Did you see the blonde across the street just now?” He asked instead.

Owen opened the driver’s side door of his car. “I thought you’d sworn off women? Called them all second-hand groupies or something like that.”

Chase looked at the building—Mitchell’s Drug Store—one more time before climbing into the passenger seat of the low-slung Mustang. “I didn’t say they were all second-hand groupies. There just happen to be more than I would like.”

“Must be tough, being chased by hot, scantily-clad women all the time.”

Owen pulled away from the curb and Chase fought the urge to turn and watch to see if the blonde came out of the drug store.

“It is when the only reason they’re chasing after me is because of my brother.” Chase’s brother, Matt, was Mr. Baseball. The long-time ace for the Texas Wranglers, Matt was well-loved in their hometown of Del Rio, Texas. So well-loved the high school baseball fields now bore his name. Without a sponsorship. So well-loved that he had his own menu item at Francine’s Diner. So well-loved that there was a freaking Matt Roberts Day, complete with a downtown parade. In November. After the World Series and before Winter Ball started. Hell, his brother had been given keys to the damned city.

As much as Chase loved his brother, he got tired of the groupies who decided that if they couldn’t have Matt they would just settle for Chase. After one too many stories posted about him on internet message boards and questionable websites, Chase had decided about a year ago that maybe a female hiatus was in order.

Besides, he had a business to run, and even with his last name he still wanted to project the image of responsible, trustworthy businessman—not wannabe playboy.

“Boo-freaking-hoo.”

Chase ignored Owen’s sarcasm. “Anyway. Did you happen to see her?”

“Who? The curvy blonde going into Mitchell’s?”

“Yes. That one. Apparently you did.”

Owen shrugged. “She looked like she had a nice ass.”

“She looked familiar.”

Owen turned into the parking lot of Roberts Ventures, LLC, and swung into the space next to Chase’s pickup. “Previous one-night stand?”

Chase snorted. “No. Definitely not one of those.” Hell, Chase could count on one hand the number of one-night stands he’d had over his entire lifetime. His brother’s groupies just made it sound like he was, well, a player.

They got out of Owen’s Mustang and entered the building. Chase’s executive assistant and all-around office goddess looked up and smiled at Chase. As soon as Kimberly’s gaze landed on Owen, her smile quickly turned to a frown.

Chase didn’t know why Kim didn’t like Owen, and no amount of gentle prying had managed to get the information out of her. “Good morning, Kim.”

“Mornin’, Chase. We got the Sutton contract in, and Frank Wimbly called earlier, said he found a spot out by the lake that he would like to take a look at.”

Chase nodded. “Thanks. I’ll take a look at the Sutton contract and give Frank a call back.”

He made his way to his office, shaking his head as the sound of Kim scolding Owen could be heard from down the hall.

Never a dull moment
he thought as he got back to work.

~~*~~

Jolene Westwood was usually pretty hard to embarrass. As a high school guidance counselor, she’d heard—and discussed—some of the most embarrassing things human beings experienced. From high school crushes to missed periods to kids grappling with their sexuality, she thought she’d heard—and seen—it all.

But embarrassment was much easier to deal with when it wasn’t your own, and unfortunately she was currently knee-deep in it on this lovely evening.

She’d just been standing there, in front of the pads, tampons and Monistat cream that lined the back wall of the Del Rio Walmart, debating small pack versus value pack, when she accidentally backed up into someone.

A solid someone who radiated warmth and
man
.

Slowly, she turned around, her hands still paused mid-air, holding the bright yellow and blue boxes up like some sort of offering.

Or maybe as a big fat red light.

No pun intended.

Her gaze wandered up from the box of Crest toothpaste in one hand to the center of what was definitely a polo-clad male chest and up to a jaw shadowed with dark stubble. Firm lips. Slightly crooked nose. Brown eyes that made her think of warm, cinnamony Mexican chocolate. Dark eyebrows. Dark brown, almost black hair that curled out from under a blue YETI coolers ball cap.

Jo swallowed a gasp—or, more realistically, a longing-filled sigh—and took a quick step back.

Chase Roberts.

Childhood best friend.

Teenage crush.

The boy she’d long ago said goodbye to.

Her stomach flip-flopped as she slowly lowered her hands and her gaze. Mentally drank him in.

Six-one.

Two hundred pounds.

1.87 ERA.

At least, those had been his college stats. If anything, he looked like he might have gained a couple of inches, and whatever he weighed, it sure looked like it was pure muscle.

Realizing she was staring like an idiot, she mentally shook herself and somehow found her voice. “I am so sorry, Chase. I didn’t see you behind me.”

Stupid, Jolene. Of course you couldn’t see him behind you, it isn’t like you have eyes in the back of your head.

His melted chocolate gaze traveled up and down her body before settling on her face. “I’m sorry, you seem to have me at a disadvantage—you know my name, but I don’t know yours.”

Jo smiled, even though she was cringing on the inside, and she fought back the sense of disappointment his words evoked. They’d been friends for years and he didn’t remember her? Hell, her mother had tried to end his parents’ marriage, until the truth finally came out years later that Chandra Sommers had never slept with Bo Roberts. Ends up Sarah Roberts had known that for far longer than Jo had—Chandra was more than happy to let her daughter believe the worst. And he didn’t remember her?

Serves you right, for ending things the way you did.

Her voice tinged with the disappointment she apparently couldn’t hide, Jo responded. “Sorry. I’ve changed some since the last time we saw each other. Jolene Westwood.”

Chase’s brows drew together over those hot chocolate eyes. “I feel awful, but I don’t remember a Jolene Westwo—wait a second. Jo? Jo Sommers?”

Jo could feel her cheeks warming and knew she was probably beet red by now. Could this be any more awkward? “Sorry. I changed my name a few years back, after my parents died.”

“Westwood is your grandma’s name, right?”

Jolene nodded and swallowed. “Yeah.”

Lame, Jolene, lame.

Chase stood before her, a brown-eyed god with a 92 mile per hour fastball and a nasty curveball, looking for all the world like a pitcher who couldn’t understand a single one of the signals the catcher was sending him.

~~*~~

Jo. Jo Sommers. His childhood friend and teenage crush. The captain of the cheerleading squad and smartest girl in the room (and hell, their class).

He’d known it was her as soon as she’d turned around and allowed that sea glass gaze to travel up his body oh so slowly. He’d never be able to forget those eyes—they’d haunted him for so long they were a permanent part of his psyche at this point.

She may have changed a little bit—her blonde hair was softer, longer and wavier than he remembered, and she’d gained some curves since he’d last seen her when they were in college, but he sure as hell would never be able to forget her.

So why was he playing stupid now?

She’d fueled more than one of his teenage fantasies, even after she’d suddenly stopped talking to him their freshman year of high school. As a teen he wondered if it had to do with the health issues—and eventual scarring—he’d had as a kid and young teen. Had she been embarrassed to be around him?

As an adult, he realized there could have been other reasons, but even a cocky teenage athlete can be felled by one simple brush off from the prettiest girl in school.

“So, uh, what brings you back to town?”

Smooth, Roberts, real smooth.

Worry briefly turned those sea glass eyes stormy, but the expression was gone so fast he wondered if he’d imagined it.

“Gran had a hip replaced. She refused to go to a rehab facility, and pretty much ordered me to come take care of her.” A small grin played at the corners of Jo’s generous mouth, and for a brief second Chase was reminded of the girl she used to be. The one who’d been his playmate and confidante.

“How’s she doing?”

Jo waved her hand, and then blushed as she looked at the box she still held.

“I’m really not trying to accost you with tampons, I swear.”

Chase barely managed to choke back the laughter that threatened to escape. “Well, at least they’re not used.”

Jesus, Roberts, that was awful.

Her blush deepened, and the chuckle that had been threatening to escape somehow managed to rumble out. Jo shook her head, smiled, and tossed the box into her cart. “I’m glad to see you still have a sophomoric sense of humor, Chase.”

“At times, yes.” Unfortunately.

Their gazes met, held, and then a slow smile bloomed over Jo’s face before she, too, was laughing. “How about we try this again?” She held out her hand. “Hey, Chase! Nice to see you again.”

Chase wrapped his hand around hers, and he swore he felt tingles shoot up his arm. “Jo, it’s good to see you, too.”

Unsettled, he dropped her hand and stepped back. A look of confusion flitted across her pretty face before she once again replaced it with an odd, too-placid-to-be-real smile.

Had she felt it, too?

“Well, uh, I better get going.” She gestured to her cart, which held a small amount of groceries and toiletries. “Gran’s waiting for me to get back so I can cook supper. Can’t let her starve.”

Chase took another step back, feeling the need to put some amount of distance between them. He flexed his hand, still feeling slight tingles in his fingertips. “No, can’t let her starve.”

Jo began to push her cart away, and before he could take the words back he blurted out, “We should do lunch some time. Or supper. Catch up. For old time’s sake.”

God, he sounded like an effing idiot. Catch up for old time’s sake? Yeah, because
that
sounded like a brilliant idea.

An expression Chase couldn’t identify clouded Jo’s eyes before it, too, was gone almost as quickly as it came. “Um, sure.” She nodded her head once, her wavy blonde hair falling over one shoulder. “We’ll have to do that.”

Chase nodded in ascent and shoved his hands into his pockets. Jo shot him one last glance before turning from him. Chase allowed himself to enjoy the view as she walked away.

Couldn’t not appreciate it, really, as it was a damned fine view. The same damned fine view he’d seen just this morning walking into Mitchell’s Drug Store.

~~*~~

“Jolene, is that you?”

Jo set down her grocery bags and blew a strand of hair out of her eyes. “Yes, Gran, it’s me.”

“Good, that rehab woman just left and I’m starving.”

Jo rolled her eyes. “I think that rehab woman has a name.”

“Yes, the Devil’s Harlot!” Gran shouted back from the living room.

Jo sighed and yelled back. “She’s not a harlot, Gran.” Who even used the word “harlot” anymore? “She works for Val Verde Regional Medical Center. Last I checked, Satan wasn’t on their payroll.”

Gran harrumphed from the living room. Jo finished putting up the groceries and walked into the living room. “Did she make you do something new today?”

Her grandmother sat in a big, somewhat comfortable chair. She waved a hand in the air dismissively. “Just a new exercise. Nothing too bad.”

“Then why the name-calling, Gran?”

Gran gestured towards the flat screen TV mounted on the wall across from her. “She was lusting after that Roberts boy. Acting like a cat in heat.”

“Roberts boy? Chase? Why was Chase on TV?” Jo’s mind went back to the embarrassing scene in Walmart, and realized it was a good thing Gran couldn’t read
her
thoughts. Chase Roberts all grown up was definitely worth lusting after.

Gran waved the remote. “No, not the sick one, bless his heart. The older one.”

Sick? Was Gran referring to Chase’s childhood illness, or did he only look like the picture of health? Hot, hot health.

“And we’re back at the top of the eighth inning, and Wranglers ace Matt Roberts is back out on the mound.”

Jo looked at the television and saw Chase’s older brother, Matt, readying the mound for another inning. The camera zoomed in on his face, and Jo had to admit that he was definitely attractive. Always had been. Problem was, he’d always known it, too.

While Chase had been popular and well-liked in his own right, Matt had always had that “it” factor that just drew people to him. Throw in obnoxiously good looks and talent that had scouts looking at him as a freshman, and you had a combination that was hard for any girl to resist.

“The PT was openly lusting after Matt in front of you?”

Gran pursed her lips. “The shameless hussy wouldn’t shut up about him. Went on and on about how ‘hot’ he is. Cat in heat, I tell you!”

Jo loved her Gran, she truly did, and while Jo was by no means remotely promiscuous, her grandmother’s old-fashioned views sometimes came across as a little, well, old-fashioned.

“Well, Gran, in all fairness he’s not an unattractive man.”

“Don’t you start acting like a hussy too, Jolene!”

Jo sighed. “Gran, just because a woman thinks a man is attractive, that doesn’t make her a hussy. Come on, you thought Pawpaw was handsome before you married him, didn’t you?”

Gran’s eyes misted over and a small smile tugged at her lips. “Oh, your Pawpaw was so handsome in his dress blues. He had the most beautiful eyes—that’s where you get yours, you know—and the sweetest smile. Curly black hair. Such a fine figure the first time I saw him. I knew right then I was going to marry him.”