Clutch Hit, Faith O'Shea [read along books TXT] 📗

I’m going to work out.” Finally meeting his eyes, she gave him a sad smile. “I guess it does make a lot of noise.”

Rique had taught him how to make a protein shake when he was in Brazil and he started having them regularly after he exercised, to replenish what he used up in energy and sweat. Since she was going right to the gym, it was probably a good choice. Not too heavy and packed with nutrients. He scanned her body. It gave a whole new meaning to the term dressed to kill.

“You belong to a gym?”

“Not exactly. I’m meeting Casey at Calipari’s. I try to get there a couple of times a week. We keep each other motivated.”

Conscious that he was staring, her body mouth-wateringly good, he dragged his gaze back to her face.

“Can I come?”

She tapped her fingernails on the glass while thinking about it.

“Um, probably not a good idea.”

“Why? You are developing me, aren’t you? With training suspended, what could be more important than making sure I keep to a routine?”

He knew she could find an excuse to say no, so he was oddly surprised when she said, “Good point. I’ve got to leave as soon as I gulp this down. I’m already late. If you’re ready before I’m done, I guess you can tag along.”

Knowing he’d need a shower after the workout, he skipped right to grabbing a tee, socks, and sneakers. He was out back out just as she was rinsing the glass and blender out.

She glanced back as he shoved his feet into the worn-out shoes he’d brought from Cuba with him.

“We have to get you some new things. Maybe we can make a day of it. I was going to try to sneak out for a couple of hours to see the featured exhibit at the art gallery, but I can do that some other time.”

He cocked his head up as he finished tying his laces.

“I could go with you. I would like to see what kinds of museums are here.”

She tilted her chin at an angle and asked, “You’re into art?”

He got up and pushed down his pant legs with the toe of his sneaker.

“I’m into anything that isn’t Cuban. Everything there is crumbling and in need of repair. The state wasn’t very efficient at keeping things modern.”

It had always counted on the workers to fulfill the duties, but without food, clothing or spending money they were growing restless and many had refused to work for so little. Even with the changes the government had made, improvements were slow to come.

“We’ll see how the day plays out. We have a lot to do yet, so we might not have time for entertainment.”

“Buying clothes shouldn’t take long. I don’t need much.”

“Do you have a suit to wear to the wake and funeral?”

He shook his head. He hadn’t even thought of that, but he certainly couldn’t attend in a tee and sweats.

“It is good you are helping me. I wouldn’t know where to purchase these things.”

“You’re in luck. I know Boston like the back of my hand and love to shop. Where’s your duffel? You’ll want to take a change of clothes. You can shower there.”

As he turned to do as instructed, she asked, “You want a breakfast bar or something to take with you?”

“What is that?”

She looked at him as if he had three heads, but explained, “It’s all kinds of vitamins and minerals packed into a portable breakfast.”

“Then, yes, please.”

He scrambled down to his room, threw a clean change of clothes into his bag, and hurried back.

When she handed him the bar, he ripped off the wrapper and took a bite. “Not bad.”

When he looked up, she had two waters in her hands, her own sports bag thrown over her shoulder, and her heavy coat on and was standing by the door.

“You’ll have to come to the office with me. Making all those trips back and forth will cut into our time. You sure you want to come?”

“It will be interesting to see where you work. It is at Harborside?”

They had locked up and were waiting for the elevator when she nodded. “It’s in the complex, on the opposite side of the clubhouse. Our spectator seats are right outside the office so we can move in and out at will.”

“When I’m standing in the on-deck circle, I will look up to let you know if I’m going to hit it out.”

She looked skeptical. “You can choose that at will?”

“I can’t choose, no. But I can feel when I’m in that zone. It rarely fails me.”

“So, if we need a clutch hit, in say, the ninth inning, and you’re in that zone, we’re good?”

“That’s what I’m here for, isn’t it?”

Those cat eyes were searching his for the truth of that statement. It wasn’t a boast. His gut knew when he was going to launch one. It was the kind of knowingness that always came when he had a bat in his hand.

She tossed him a set of keys as soon as they reached the allotted parking spaces, pointing to a dark gray Lexus ES F Sport. “It’s not too big, not too small, and it drives like a dream.”

He was walking around it, his hand sliding over the exterior as he did so.

“Well, what do you think?”

“It’s brand new, isn’t it? And just the right size. You did well with both house and car. I think I like having you in charge of my finances.”

“Do you want to see how it feels?”

“Without a license?”

“I guess that would be a risk. If we got stopped, you might lose the right to get one.”

“You drive. I’ll ride. There’s enough room for my legs here.”

“Are you saying you want to keep it?”

He placed his hand on his chest to prove he was sincere and said, “Very sure.”

He tossed the keys back, and when she snatched them out of the air in one fluid movement, he was impressed.

“Did you ever think about drafting yourself?”

She laughed. “Wouldn’t