Dare You To

Page 22

“Good afternoon, Ryan.” His eyebrows rise to give the impression he’s surprised.
“Good afternoon.” I rub the back of my head when the tension starts to form in my neck. “Is, uh, Beth here?”
An easy grin spreads across his face. “She’d better be, but I did just piss her off. It might not be a bad idea to check to see if she snuck out the window.”
Having no idea what to say back, I shove my hands in my pockets. He laughs. “Elisabeth and I don’t work well together on her homework. Come on in. She said you two made plans, but I have to admit I was wondering if she was messing with me.”
“Is she ready, Mr. Risk?” Amazed and starstruck, I walk in. This place is huge.
“Call me Scott,” he says, then hollers, “Elisabeth!”
Something hard smacks the door to our right. “Fuck you!”
I sigh heavily and a knot forms between my shoulder blades. The pendulum swings on the mood spectrum. Guess we’re back to crazy.
Can’t wait to see what Friday night will bring.
“You have company!”
Silence. The door squeaks as it slowly opens.
“Hello, Ryan.” Beth rests her hip against the door frame and my heart stutters. She changed from the T-shirt to a black tank top, exposing a hint of beautiful cleavage. “See. I told you he stares.”
Damn. I do. And I did it right in front of Scott Risk.
Scott claps my back. “It’s okay. But try not to stare too hard in front of me. At some point I’ll stop finding it amusing and might have to kick your ass. And Elisabeth? Fuck isn’t allowed.”
She shrugs, clearly not caring what’s allowed.
“Get yourself together,” Scott says to Beth.
“I’m going to talk to Ryan for a bit, then you can go.”
Beth glances at her clothes. “I am together.”
“I see skin. Lots of it. Come back out when there is less skin.”
She sighs and does this slow pivot. As she walks into her room her hips have this easy sway that makes me stare—once again.
“I received something yesterday that you’ll appreciate.” Scott crosses the foyer to the room opposite Beth’s and motions for me to follow.
The moment I enter the large office I’m in awe. Baseball. Everywhere. Jerseys in glass frames. Balls. Bats. Cards in display cases.
Scott pulls out a see-through box and hands it to me. My mouth gapes. “Babe Ruth. You have a baseball signed by Babe Ruth?”
“Yes.” Scott flashes a smile, the kind I understand; this office is hallowed ground. The phone on his large mahogany desk rings. “Give me a sec.”
I start to head out when Scott stops me.
“Stay. This won’t take long.”
I love this man. I could spend hours in this office drooling over his stuff. Speaking in correct grammar and a business voice, Scott chats on the phone. I hover over a bat signed by Nolan Ryan. This could be my office someday. Hell no. This will be me.
Across the room is a table of framed pictures. Scott and Pete Rose. Scott and Albert Pujols. The picture frames are angled slightly toward the center of the table. Each person in the frame more important than the last.
When I get to the middle, I see a wedding picture of Scott and his wife and my respect for the man grows. He values his family.
I frown when I spot the small 4x7 photograph. It’s of a child and Scott. At least I think it’s Scott. I pick it up. He’s young and looks dorky wearing the old-school version of the Bullitt County High baseball uniform. He holds a girl. Barely out of toddler years. Maybe five. Entwined and pinned everywhere in her long blond hair are pink ribbons. The white fluffy dress makes her look like a princess. She has her arms squeezed tight around Scott’s neck. Her smile is contagious and her eyes are the deep blue of an ocean, almost exactly like…
“Elisabeth loved ribbons,” Scott says behind me. “Bought them for her every chance I could.”
No way. “This is Beth?”
He takes the frame from me and gently places it back as the very center picture on the table. “Yes.”
He says it with the heaviness of a man mourning. Hell, I guess he is grieving. Beth is  a far cry from the happy child in that photo.
Scott’s lighthearted tone returns. “I picked Allison up from a dinner last night and ran into your mom. She said you finaled in a state writing competition.”
My eyes flicker away. Dad must love that everyone in town now knows. “Yeah.”
“Your dad said you’re bent on going pro out of school, but there are a lot of colleges that would die to have a pitcher with your potential.
Especially if you have academic talent.”
“Thanks.” I don’t know what else to say.
“Want to tell me what’s going on with you and my niece?”
I freeze. And that is what I call throwing a changeup. Scott loses his easygoing grin and I notice he shares Beth’s eyes. He doesn’t blink either. Time to man up. “I asked her out.”
Because of a dare. “And she said yes. She said that you’d want to meet me first.”
“Where are you taking her tonight?”
“To my pitch-coaching lesson, then to wherever she chooses to eat. There’s a…” Taco Bell—I should skip that one. “McDonald’s and an Applebee’s nearby.”
Scott nods as if he’s processing how to perform brain surgery. “Where are you taking her Friday?”
“Not far. Actually, it’ll border your property and my dad’s. My best friend lives on the other side of you and we invite friends over to hang out.”
Scott fights amusement and tenses at the same time. “You’re taking my niece to a field party.”
I swallow.
“I grew up fifteen miles from Groveton,”
says Scott. “I know what a field party is, having attended more than a few myself.”
Busted. “I thought it would be a good opportunity for her to spend time with my friends.”
Scott rubs his jawline. “I don’t know.”
I have to give him more. Lots more. “I like Beth. She’s pretty.” Yeah, she is. “She’s more than pretty. She’s not like any girl I’ve ever met before. Beth keeps me on the edge. With her, I have no idea what’s coming next and I find that…” Amazing. Thrilling. “Fun.”
Scott says nothing back and I’m glad. Until I said the words—words I thought I was creating to impress him—I had no idea they were true.
A sexy voice, one I know all too well, causes my stomach to levitate like I’m at the top of a roller coaster, then plummet. Beth heard every word. “You’re kidding.”
“It’s impolite to eavesdrop.” Scott keeps his back to her and his eyes glued on me.
“I didn’t say fucking kidding,” she responds.
He inclines his head to the right as if to agree that was a major concession. “When?”
“When what?” I ask.
“When are you picking her up on Friday?”
“Seven.”
“I want her home by nine tonight. Midnight on Friday.”
“Yes, sir.”
Scott turns to Beth. “What are you going to do while he’s practicing?”
“Watch.”
Scott dips his head in disbelief.
Beth sighs heavily. “Fine. I’ll do homework.
I’ll become studious and add ‘big fat dork’ to my ‘freak’ label. It’s what you want, right?”
“It’s all I dream about. Go on. Enjoy yourselves.” He enters the foyer and Beth’s lips twist into that evil smirk. What the hell did I walk myself into?
Beth
EVERY NOW AND THEN, FATE SMILES in my favor. Yes, I know, hard to believe, but today is one of those rare days. Last week, Lacy told me Ryan drove into Louisville for coaching lessons on Wednesdays, and yesterday she told me that the facility is located in the south side of Louisville, sweetly tucked away a half mile from my home.
Outside of a large metal warehouse, Ryan plucks a bag full of his baseball crap out of the back of his Jeep and I do my best to keep from fidgeting. My nerves make it difficult to stay still. I’m so close to my mom that I can almost taste the cigarette. Be cool, Beth. This is a hand you have to play carefully. “How long is practice?”
“An hour. Maybe a little longer.” Ryan slings his bag over his shoulder. I swear, this guy has the broadest shoulders of any high school kid I have ever met. He wears a tight Tshirt and my stomach performs tiny flips when his shirt rides up, exposing his abs.
I sigh and push the thoughts away. The characteristics of gorgeous and decent don’t mix with wanting me. And while Ryan can be a jerk, he is…decent. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that what I’m doing to him is wrong.
Wrong but necessary.
Besides, whatever is going on between us is a game of some sort. I just haven’t guessed his angle yet. Not that it matters. By the end of the night, Ryan will hate me and so will Scott. I won’t feel bad about Scott though. He’s the one that dragged me into this mess and he’ll be much happier without me. In an hour I will have reached Mom, contacted Isaiah, and we’ll be out of town. The schedule is tight, but doable.
“Where do you want to go to dinner?
There’s an Applebee’s close by and a T.G.I.
Friday’s. Hopefully our dinner conversation will be a lot better than the silence on the way in.” He pauses. “We can do fast food if you prefer. I know how you love tacos.”
The first cool breeze of fall blows across the parking lot and goose bumps rise on my arms.
In an hour, I’ll be heading to the beach.
“I said tacos, Beth. Where’s the ‘eff you’ that typically follows?”
I stare up at him and blink. I’m doing this.
I’m actually going to run away.
Ryan’s eyebrows furrow together and he comes closer to me, blocking the breeze, or maybe it’s the heat radiating from his body warming me. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” He’s taller than me.
Gigantically. I’m not going to see him again so I let myself notice Ryan as he really is. He’s sexily hot with his broad shoulders, curved muscles, cute mess of sandy-blond hair kicking out behind his baseball cap and adorable warm brown eyes. I pretend for a second that the sincerity in them is real—and for me.
The wind blows again, harder this time, and several strands of my hair move across my face. Ryan focuses on them. His fingers whisper against my cheek, then down the sensitive skin on my neck as he brushes the strands over my shoulder. His touch tickles and burns at the same time.
Heat races to my face and my hands immediately cover my cheeks. What the hell?
I’m blushing. Guys don’t make me blush. Guys don’t want to make me blush. Confused by my reaction, I step away and reach into my back pocket to pull out a cigarette I bummed from stoner boy at school. “Give me a few, okay?”
“If you get bored in the waiting area and you want to watch, I’ll ask Coach if you can…”