Read Online Love's Little Instruction Book by Mary Gorman - Free Book Online Page B

don’t want wimps — they want men who can come to their rescue.”
    “Great,” Dave grumbled. “But I’m not a sheriff or a spy or a sea captain. I’m a sales associate at a Boston radio station. What’s heroic about that?”
    • • •
    “Oh my Gawd!” exclaimed Presley. “This looks like the bimbos versus the hippies!” Sitting beside her on the aluminum bench, Denise burst into giggles as Presley blew and popped a large, pink bubble. Presley was blase about the game — she was the pitcher for the WMTR team. Denise, on the other hand, was nervous. She claimed to be barely able to play the game at all and, having seen her fan the ball repeatedly at their one and only practice, Dave was inclined to believe her.
    Gazing across the field, Dave thought it was easy to see exactly what Presley had meant. The soap opera stars were there in all of their lipsticked, blow-dried glory. They sported identical uniforms bearing three overlapping red stars over the left breast and the words Soap Opera Stars over their right. Every player had their hair neatly styled and shellacked into place with a generous layer of hair spray.
    By contrast, the WMTR team looked like refugees from a Salvation Army tag sale. The only common aspect to them was the fact that everyone wore matching T-shirts bearing the station’s call letters. Dave suspected that the shirts themselves had been scavenged from the station’s prize closet.
    Dave frowned as he looked at Todd O’Connor in his Mickey Mouse cap — he needed to get a game face on, Dave thought, to take the game seriously. Not to be sitting there flirting with Presley and Denise. For Christ’s sake, did he have to sit so close? He was practically in Denise’s lap!
    “Oh, Presley, look!” Denise exclaimed suddenly, grasping her friend by the upper arm. “It’s Matt Walsh from Tempest ! God! I used to watch that every day when I was in college.”
    “I used to schedule my classes around that show,” Presley agreed. “Oh Gawd, what a hunk! Too bad he’s playing for the other team.”
    “Yeah,” Denise sighed heavily.
    “His real name is Tom Ford,” Todd O’Connor informed them. “He’s a real nice guy.”
    “You know him?” Presley demanded, turning her eyes from the opposing team’s bench to stare, bubble eyed, at Todd.
    “We got our pilot’s licenses together,” Todd told them. “I was a student at Columbia and he had just started on Tempest . He went to Columbia, too, you know. Maybe that’s why we hit it off. I’ll introduce you if you like. He said he was going to go with the teams for pizza in the North End after the game.”
    “That would be so cool, Todd,” Presley gushed. “Thanks.”
    Dave silently rolled his eyes at the way the two women were acting like star struck teenagers. You would think that Denise, at least, would be immune to celebrity and a pretty face.
    Just then Paul Lund walked over and stood in front of the bench, motioning for his team to gather around. “We’re almost ready to start. As the home team, we’re going to let them bat first. Presley and John, you should probably start warming up. Everyone else, don’t take them too lightly. They may look like pieces of fluff, but I’ve heard that they’re a tough team to beat. Try not to embarrass the station too much, huh?”
    Presley walked off with John Froio, the team catcher. “Good luck!” Denise called after them. Dave eyed the now empty space on the bench next to Denise. This was his chance. He stepped over the aluminum bench and into the gap left by Presley’s departure. “Do you want to work on your swing a little more?” Todd asked as Dave began to lower his behind onto the bench.
    “Oh man, yes!” Denise replied with a blossoming smile. “I’m going to embarrass myself out there, I just know it!”
    “Nah,” Todd replied casually as he rose to his feet. “We won’t let you.” He picked up a bat off of a nearby cart and extended it out toward her.