Chapters (31)
- Title Page
- Copyright Page
- Acknowledgements
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Teaser chapter
“I’m shocked and hurt and pissed off, but I’m okay. And we’re going to kick ass today to prove it.”
When the announcer called out the starting lineup, the pitcher walked onto the mound.
Pace.
Holly gasped as the home crowd went crazy. “What?” she whispered to Sam. “He’s pitching?”
“Yes.”
He stood on the mound looking tall, tough, and a little lean after all the rehabbing he’d done.
And ready.
He pitched a tight seven innings and left the game with the score tied three all. By the bottom of the ninth, the Heat was down two. Henry, a power hitter, came up to bat with two men on base. He singled.
And then Wade came up to bat. Holly began to sweat. Sam was chewing her nails. “He can do this, he can—”
He hit hard, bringing all three runners home, and the crowd went wild with the win.
The players and management poured out of the dugout, all tumbling over each other right there at the home plate. Holly stood up, watching them from eyes that burned with fierce pride and joy.
After a minute, Pace separated himself from the pack, and with cameramen and reporters dogging him, he climbed the fence, determination all over his face.
Heart racing, Holly stared at him in shock as he leapt lithely to his feet right in front of her.
“Hey,” he said.
She grinned. “Well, hey yourself, and congratulations.”
“Thanks.” He eyed the cameramen trying to follow his route, stymied by the fencing, then looked at her wryly as he rubbed his jaw. “We’ve got maybe ten seconds of privacy, so I’ll be quick. About what I said in the dugout. About what I’d been trying to say since the boys showed early at the park.”
She brought a hand up to her chest to keep her heart from leaping right out. “I . . . I thought maybe it was my imagination.”
“No.”
Around them she was aware of the other spectators, how they were beginning to take notice of them, a few even pulling out their cell phones to take pictures. She didn’t care, and tried to pull him in.
“I’m filthy,” he said, then gave up the fight and hugged her back. “All this time,” he said in her ear, “I thought I was the worldly one, that between the two of us, I was more experienced, that I was waiting for your heart to catch up, but I was wrong.” Pulling back, he looked into her eyes. “Every single moment since you came to Santa Barbara, you’ve schooled me. On top of being smart as hell, loyal, passionate, gorgeous, you are the most amazing woman I’ve ever met.”
Behind them, two camera guys finally made it over the fence. Huffing, they stuck microphones in their faces.