Read Online No Pit So Deep: The Cody Musket Story by James Nathaniel Miller II - Free Book Online
Authors: James Nathaniel Miller II
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Twain — the guy who said it. About the diapers.”
She crossed her arms and sat back. Her glare would have sent a papa grizzly scurrying home to mama.
Cody decided to man up. "Look. In the lobby, I overheard your phone conversation with your father. You mentioned your values.”
Her mouth fell open. Values? He was listening to my private conversation?
Her expression reminded him of a red warning sign he had seen often while in the Marine Corps — Danger: Explosives. Suddenly, he wished life had come with a “delete entire conversation” button like a smartphone. Is she always like this, or do I just naturally have this effect on women?
Now he had nothing to lose. He folded his hands, placed them on the table, and looked into her eyes. His rugged voice was calm and direct.
“I guess I picked a bad time to tell you. I don’t get out much, and I don’t often meet women who share my values. I wanted to introduce myself, but I got nervous and just followed you. Then, I saw those guys grab you, and —” His mouth tightened and he shook his head.
Her eyes softened. She twirled a lock of her dark brown hair around her fingers and cocked her head to one side.
“I took a risk coming back to find you,” he said. “I was afraid you would publish things that could endanger people I work with.”
Her brow wrinkled, her confusion on full display. Endanger people? What people is he talking about?
“I knew that even if I didn’t come back, you’d find out who I am anyway, so I’ve come to ask you to please not reveal my name to the media."
She scooted to the edge of her chair.
“My last name’s Musket. I play third base for the Astros.”
All life drained from her face. The deep breath she was holding instantly escaped. How could she have missed it? She had read about him — Medal of Honor and the best story in baseball this season. Oh please, God! If I collapse right now, he’ll never let me forget.
“I'd like to keep my identity a secret,” he drawled. “If organized crime is involved, it could put my teammates at risk. I took a chance, but I had to find you. I want to believe you'll keep my identity between us.”
Quietly she stared down at her napkin in front of her. Her eyes became misty. “So…you’re a believer? I mean you said you shared my values and…”
They waited a silent moment.
Brandi clenched her fists underneath the table. No crying. Not now. When she awkwardly blotted her eyes with the napkin moments later, Cody looked away.
“I still have issues,” he said. "If word of what happened tonight makes SportsCenter , they’re gonna ask me about things that — things I’m tryin’ to get past.”
For a few seconds, she could not look him in the eye. She was a moron. Crying. Did I really ask him if he knows any professional athletes? Does he play games? Uggh!
She expected him to leave, but there he sat. She must make amends somehow.
“I just noticed that your left arm has a fresh bandage on it. It has been bleeding again.” She fidgeted and pretended to take another sip — from an empty cup.
“Yeah, so I see. The EMS guys bandaged it, but it needs stitches.”
“I can take you to a clinic.”
“Nah, I don’t want to get recognized.”
She decided to tread forward on thin ice. “Okay. So would you want to come over to my place and let me bandage it better? It’s the least I can do. I don’t live far.” She sniffled, blotted her eyes again and then snickered at herself. Did I really invite him over?
Despite her swollen lower lip and bruised neck, her face melted into an amiable smile which lit up her blue eyes and revealed two dimples to complement her delicate pink lips.
He reached toward her cheek. “Your face. It looks —” He hesitated, curled up his fingers, and withdrew.
She swallowed awkwardly. “It’s okay, Cody. What did you start to say?” She reached across the table and took his hand. “Something about my face?” She could no longer feel the
She crossed her arms and sat back. Her glare would have sent a papa grizzly scurrying home to mama.
Cody decided to man up. "Look. In the lobby, I overheard your phone conversation with your father. You mentioned your values.”
Her mouth fell open. Values? He was listening to my private conversation?
Her expression reminded him of a red warning sign he had seen often while in the Marine Corps — Danger: Explosives. Suddenly, he wished life had come with a “delete entire conversation” button like a smartphone. Is she always like this, or do I just naturally have this effect on women?
Now he had nothing to lose. He folded his hands, placed them on the table, and looked into her eyes. His rugged voice was calm and direct.
“I guess I picked a bad time to tell you. I don’t get out much, and I don’t often meet women who share my values. I wanted to introduce myself, but I got nervous and just followed you. Then, I saw those guys grab you, and —” His mouth tightened and he shook his head.
Her eyes softened. She twirled a lock of her dark brown hair around her fingers and cocked her head to one side.
“I took a risk coming back to find you,” he said. “I was afraid you would publish things that could endanger people I work with.”
Her brow wrinkled, her confusion on full display. Endanger people? What people is he talking about?
“I knew that even if I didn’t come back, you’d find out who I am anyway, so I’ve come to ask you to please not reveal my name to the media."
She scooted to the edge of her chair.
“My last name’s Musket. I play third base for the Astros.”
All life drained from her face. The deep breath she was holding instantly escaped. How could she have missed it? She had read about him — Medal of Honor and the best story in baseball this season. Oh please, God! If I collapse right now, he’ll never let me forget.
“I'd like to keep my identity a secret,” he drawled. “If organized crime is involved, it could put my teammates at risk. I took a chance, but I had to find you. I want to believe you'll keep my identity between us.”
Quietly she stared down at her napkin in front of her. Her eyes became misty. “So…you’re a believer? I mean you said you shared my values and…”
They waited a silent moment.
Brandi clenched her fists underneath the table. No crying. Not now. When she awkwardly blotted her eyes with the napkin moments later, Cody looked away.
“I still have issues,” he said. "If word of what happened tonight makes SportsCenter , they’re gonna ask me about things that — things I’m tryin’ to get past.”
For a few seconds, she could not look him in the eye. She was a moron. Crying. Did I really ask him if he knows any professional athletes? Does he play games? Uggh!
She expected him to leave, but there he sat. She must make amends somehow.
“I just noticed that your left arm has a fresh bandage on it. It has been bleeding again.” She fidgeted and pretended to take another sip — from an empty cup.
“Yeah, so I see. The EMS guys bandaged it, but it needs stitches.”
“I can take you to a clinic.”
“Nah, I don’t want to get recognized.”
She decided to tread forward on thin ice. “Okay. So would you want to come over to my place and let me bandage it better? It’s the least I can do. I don’t live far.” She sniffled, blotted her eyes again and then snickered at herself. Did I really invite him over?
Despite her swollen lower lip and bruised neck, her face melted into an amiable smile which lit up her blue eyes and revealed two dimples to complement her delicate pink lips.
He reached toward her cheek. “Your face. It looks —” He hesitated, curled up his fingers, and withdrew.
She swallowed awkwardly. “It’s okay, Cody. What did you start to say?” She reached across the table and took his hand. “Something about my face?” She could no longer feel the
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