Read Online Love from Left Field by Megan Ryder - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Megan Ryder
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gazing sightlessly out over the empty stadium. It was barely March but getting warm in Savannah, almost ready for baseball season. But the Knights were nowhere near ready, nor would they ever be if his analysis was on target.
Which made the deal with Miranda a moot point, making the commissioner satisfied for now. So why did Lucas feel so uncomfortable?
He leaned back against the seat, resting his head against the wall and closed his eyes. The box hadn’t changed that much in the decade or so since he’d last been here. Maybe a new paint job? Seats might have had new cushions. And the windows that separated the box from the masses looked new. But with his eyes closed, he could almost feel his father sitting in the front row, eagerly waiting the start of the season.
No matter what their chances, his father loved Opening Day. He said it was like a new start, a new life, and the possibilities were endless. Of course now his father was dead, almost ten years now, and there were no new beginnings. Not for him and his father. No, the last Opening Day was marred by their argument and his refusal to come to the park, standing by his father’s side for the ceremonial first pitch. He didn’t even remember what he had done that day, only that he avoided even watching the game, any game, running as far as he could from his destiny.
A soft snick had him opening his eyes to see Miranda standing just inside the box, the door shut behind her.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Her voice was soft, as if sensing the memories in the box.
She probably had her own demons here, considering her father wouldn’t make it to Opening Day and she was struggling to tread water amidst financial and team pressures, not to mention family issues.
He shook his head. “No, you’re not. I was just thinking.”
She settled in the chair next to him, traces of her subtle perfume teasing his senses and inspiring thoughts entirely inappropriate to their location, not to mention the situation they found themselves in.
Silence hung in the air for long moments as he wrestled with his past. “It’s harder than I thought it would be.”
She shifted in her chair. “How so?”
He liked that she didn’t pretend to not know what he was talking about and didn’t try to fill the silence with inane babble. Instead, she waited patiently for him to continue.
He shook his head to clear the ghosts. “Never mind. Did you want to talk about something?”
Something flashed in her eyes, sympathy maybe, quickly masked by a business facade. “Did you speak with the commissioner?”
He grimaced but nodded. “I did. He had concerns.”
She snorted. “I’ll bet.” She paused, looking out at the field. “I used to love to come here every day. I loved game day the best – the excitement of the crowds, the chants, the rowdiness of the park. So different from my usual days.”
“Beauty pageants didn’t get all physical, with cat fights backstage? I know quite a few guys who’d be disappointed to hear that.”
“Are you one of them? Sure, girls could be rough but it was sneakier stuff. Stealing makeup, hiding wardrobe or talent props. On the surface, everything was sweetness and light but under it all, girls could be vicious. But baseball, it’s all out there. A player gets pissed and he charges the mound. Fans yell their opinions. Everyone is honest and up front.”
“I never pictured you as a baseball kind of girl.”
“Well, I didn’t think you’d be in baseball either. Didn’t you want to do something else, anything else?”
He flushed, remembered anger from his past arguments with his father clouding his mind.
Desperately wanting to avoid any talk of the past, he spoke more harshly than he wanted. “People grow up and change. Can I help you with something?”
She quickly masked the flash of hurt and drew upright. “I spoke with Tom in Houston. He said you consulted with their turnaround and had some good ideas.”
He narrowed his eyes.
Which made the deal with Miranda a moot point, making the commissioner satisfied for now. So why did Lucas feel so uncomfortable?
He leaned back against the seat, resting his head against the wall and closed his eyes. The box hadn’t changed that much in the decade or so since he’d last been here. Maybe a new paint job? Seats might have had new cushions. And the windows that separated the box from the masses looked new. But with his eyes closed, he could almost feel his father sitting in the front row, eagerly waiting the start of the season.
No matter what their chances, his father loved Opening Day. He said it was like a new start, a new life, and the possibilities were endless. Of course now his father was dead, almost ten years now, and there were no new beginnings. Not for him and his father. No, the last Opening Day was marred by their argument and his refusal to come to the park, standing by his father’s side for the ceremonial first pitch. He didn’t even remember what he had done that day, only that he avoided even watching the game, any game, running as far as he could from his destiny.
A soft snick had him opening his eyes to see Miranda standing just inside the box, the door shut behind her.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Her voice was soft, as if sensing the memories in the box.
She probably had her own demons here, considering her father wouldn’t make it to Opening Day and she was struggling to tread water amidst financial and team pressures, not to mention family issues.
He shook his head. “No, you’re not. I was just thinking.”
She settled in the chair next to him, traces of her subtle perfume teasing his senses and inspiring thoughts entirely inappropriate to their location, not to mention the situation they found themselves in.
Silence hung in the air for long moments as he wrestled with his past. “It’s harder than I thought it would be.”
She shifted in her chair. “How so?”
He liked that she didn’t pretend to not know what he was talking about and didn’t try to fill the silence with inane babble. Instead, she waited patiently for him to continue.
He shook his head to clear the ghosts. “Never mind. Did you want to talk about something?”
Something flashed in her eyes, sympathy maybe, quickly masked by a business facade. “Did you speak with the commissioner?”
He grimaced but nodded. “I did. He had concerns.”
She snorted. “I’ll bet.” She paused, looking out at the field. “I used to love to come here every day. I loved game day the best – the excitement of the crowds, the chants, the rowdiness of the park. So different from my usual days.”
“Beauty pageants didn’t get all physical, with cat fights backstage? I know quite a few guys who’d be disappointed to hear that.”
“Are you one of them? Sure, girls could be rough but it was sneakier stuff. Stealing makeup, hiding wardrobe or talent props. On the surface, everything was sweetness and light but under it all, girls could be vicious. But baseball, it’s all out there. A player gets pissed and he charges the mound. Fans yell their opinions. Everyone is honest and up front.”
“I never pictured you as a baseball kind of girl.”
“Well, I didn’t think you’d be in baseball either. Didn’t you want to do something else, anything else?”
He flushed, remembered anger from his past arguments with his father clouding his mind.
Desperately wanting to avoid any talk of the past, he spoke more harshly than he wanted. “People grow up and change. Can I help you with something?”
She quickly masked the flash of hurt and drew upright. “I spoke with Tom in Houston. He said you consulted with their turnaround and had some good ideas.”
He narrowed his eyes.
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