Between the Seams (21 page)

Chase fought the smile that wanted to spread across his face, and instead pulled her to him until she was flush with his body, the hand holding the box trapped between them. “For better or for worse, in sickness and in health, ‘til death do us part, for as long as we both shall live.”

Jo sniffled. “Now that we’ve got that settled, can I open this box?”

He stepped back, and Jo slowly opened the box, revealing the engagement ring he’d had Matt’s jeweler friend find. The ring with a vintage vibe had screamed “Jo” as soon as he’d seen it; the ring was white gold, with a thin infinity band of diamonds, topped by a traditional round-cut diamond surrounded by smaller diamonds set in rose gold.

“Oh, wow.” She looked up at him, tears swimming in her eyes. “Chase, this is…holy…have you been looking at my Pinterest account?”

“I didn’t even know you had a Pinterest account.”

“Please. I’m a woman in my early thirties who up until a couple of months ago was woefully single yet dreaming of her wedding day. Of course I have a Pinterest account.”

He smiled and took the box from her, removed the ring and took hold of her left hand. “So I guess that means you like it?”

She smiled. “Like it? I love it! Put that thing on my finger already!”

He chuckled and slid it onto her ring finger, smiling as he did so. She laughed, looked down at her hand in the way that all females do, and then wrapped her arms around his neck and met his mouth with hers.

After long moments, she pulled away just enough to say, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” And then he kissed her again and there was no more room for words or worries about the future. In that moment, it was just him and the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with—no matter how long that life may be.

~~*~~

Dear Reader,

Thank you so much for taking a chance on this book--and me--and purchasing it. I hoped you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Like it often does, art certainly imitated life while I was writing this book--or maybe it was the other way around and life ended up imitating art. The idea for this book first came to me while listening to a local sports reporter talk about a childhood illness of a particular quarterback, and how he’d overcome that illness. This quarterback happened to be the younger brother of another quarterback who went to the same university. The older brother was successful and is to this day beloved by university fans; the younger brother, not quite as much. But it got me to thinking--what must it be like to have that kind of pressure on you, to be the younger brother of someone who’s beloved by a pretty rabid fan base? And what must it be like when you throw in an illness no one knows about on top of that?

As I began writing the book, I changed Chase’s illness to something vaguely involving his kidneys, just needing a jumping off point for research. I was about halfway through writing Between the Seams when my husband got sick. For months my writing went almost completely on hold as we tried to figure out what was wrong with him. Six months later we had an answer--he was in renal failure, and we’d had no clue. What followed was a crash course on End Stage Renal Failure (sometimes also called End Stage Renal Disease), dialysis (which they put him on while in the hospital, just days after finding out his kidneys were functioning at around 10%) and transplants.

The scenes in which Chase are talking to his doctor, and then his interactions with people immediately afterwards are all drawn--at least partially--from my life and from the reality of facing dialysis and/or a transplant. The cause of Chase’s kidney disease is different from what caused my husband’s, but the emotions that Chase and Jo feel while dealing with this disease are very, very real. The reality of kidney transplants is sobering: according to the National Kidney Foundation there are currently over 101,000 people on the kidney transplant waiting list. The average wait for a kidney from a deceased donor is 5 years, but in some states it’s closer to 10. There are fewer than 17,000 transplants performed each year, but nearly 3,000 people are added to the wait list each month. In 2013, 4.453 people died while waiting for a kidney transplant. I’m not one to use fiction as a platform, but in this case I do hope that my writing about such an awful (and widespread) disease causes at least one person to
register to be an organ donor
.

So where do Chase and Jo go from here? Never fear--their story will continue over the course of the next three books in the series as their relationship and Chase’s looming need for a transplant will play a role in upcoming books.

Next up, though, is Jenn and Matt’s story, which has been incredibly fun to write. Keep reading for an excerpt of Baseball and Other Lessons, and feel free to follow me on social media and sign up for my newsletter to be the first to know when Book 2 of the Devils Ranch Series will be released.

Cheers!

Aubrey

Between the Seams Playlist

Honeybrowne – “Texas Angel”

Josh Abbott Band – “Touch”

Reckless Kelly – “Nobody’s Girl”

Miranda Lambert – “Mama’s Broken Heart”

Aaron Watson – “3rd Gear and 17”

Imagine Dragons – “Demons”

Randy Rogers Band – “Kiss Me In the Dark”

Casey Donahew Band – “Give You a Ring”

Gary Allan – “Watching Airplanes”

Josh Abbott Band – “Oh, Tonight”

Jon Wolfe – “I Don’t Dance”

Kelly Willis and Bruce Robison – “Border Radio”

Radney Foster – “Nobody Wins”

Eli Young Band – “Guinevere”

Eminem f. Rhianna – “The Monster”

William Clark Green – “Rose Queen”

Alex Clare – “Too Close”

Matchbox twenty – “Busted”

Wade Bowen and Brandy Clark – “Love In the First Degree”

Jack Ingram – “Barefoot and Crazy”

Pat Green – “Take Me Out to a Dancehall”

Sugar Cult – “Pretty Girl (The Way)”

Preview: Baseball and Other Lessons

Matt Roberts had it all. Fame. Fortune. His dream job and a fancy condo in THE place to be in Dallas. With one pitch and one line drive, it was over. Well, at least it was according to a tweet from ESPN. In an effort to lick his wounds and evade the Dallas media, Matt comes home to Del Rio while his fractured skull heals. Meanwhile, his team’s heading towards a pennant race and he’s not there on the mound. Add in redhead who’s so not his type (she’s a teacher, for God’s sake!) and yet who seems to know how to push ALL of his buttons, and Matt suddenly finds himself at a crossroads between the career he’d loved and worked so hard for, and a future that’s far too uncertain. Can Jenn McDonnel teach Matt that there’s more to life than baseball, or is this relationship doomed to strikeout?

Chapter One

Matt Roberts’ career ended with a tweet.

@ESPN: Sources confirm @MattRobertsTX career likely over. 35yo pitcher suffered cracked skull, brain bleed. Surgery successful.

Next came the
Deadspin
article.

ESPN Reporting Matt Roberts, Texas’ Ace, Out Forever

Followed by the piece from Bleacher Report.

Texas’ Matt Roberts’ Career Over, Next Steps for Texas to Fill Gap

Sports Illustrated
jumped on it next, followed by the
Sporting News
, Yahoo! Sports,
The Dallas Morning News
and SB Nation. From there, the barrage was endless as social media took one stupid—and highly inaccurate to his knowledge—tweet as gospel.

Matt’s head pounded. He wasn’t sure if it was because of his stitched up skull or if his blood pressure was getting too high. When he noticed his hands were shaking, he figured it was probably his blood pressure.

He sat back on his brother, Chase’s couch, closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, tried to find some internal peace. Instead, all he could find was that damned tweet. Sighing, he opened his eyes and looked back at his open laptop, giving the offending tweet the evil eye, before picking up his cell phone and dialing his agent.

The man answered on the first ring. “Hey, Matt. Don’t worry, man, we’re on it. I don’t know who ESPN’s sources are, but they’re wrong. We haven’t heard anything from the front office other than they want you to have a full recovery and that your health comes first.”

Matt sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Dammit, Darrin, where the fuck did this shit come from? I’ve barely been out of the hospital for a week. Nobody knows the future of my career right now, especially not some lowlife who’ll give crap information to ESPN.”

“I know. Like I said, we’re trying to track down the source. I also have a call in to Reed. Hopefully I’ll hear something soon and can get this mess cleared up.”

Reed Thornhill was the team’s president and general manager, and the person who would ultimately decide Matt’s professional fate. He and Reed had a pretty good relationship, and Matt couldn’t see him making such a definite statement without having all the facts. And the facts were, Matt couldn’t even begin rehab until the fucking stitches were out, and that wouldn’t be for a couple more weeks probably.

“Thanks, Darrin.”

“No problem, man. So how are you doing?”

Matt blew out a breath and looked around his brother’s living room. How was he doing? He was going fucking stir crazy. That’s how he was doing. “Effing crazy, D. I’m bored out of my mind.”

“You know you could have stayed in Dallas, in the comfort of your own condo and all the take out you desire at your fingertips.”

Matt snorted. “I know. Mom was worried sick, and I knew she’d be calling me multiple times a day. I also didn’t feel like having the media breathing down my neck.”

“How’s the ranch doing?”

Matt, along with Chase, Chase’s friend Owen, and Darrin were all owners of a managed game ranch just north of Del Rio, on the Devils River. “You know about as much as I do. Chase and Owen do a great job keeping up with it, and Daniel runs the place flawlessly. I’m hoping to get up there some time soon, just have to have clearance to drive.”

“Any word on when that’ll be?”

“I have an appointment in San Antonio next Monday. Hopefully he’ll give me the go-ahead then.”

“Keep me up to date. In the meantime, I’ve gotta go—lunch with Mercer to discuss the contract extension the Cowboys offered him.”

Clint Mercer was the Dallas Cowboys’ all-pro tight end, Darrin’s client, Matt’s friend, and all-around good guy. “Getting ready to milk the Cowboys dry?”

“As dry as I can.” Darrin chuckled. “Anyway. Stay off of Twitter and message boards for a while, and I’ll call you as soon as I know something.”

“Thanks, D.” Matt ended the call and tossed the phone back onto the couch beside him. He rested his head against the plush back and looked up at the ceiling. God, he was bored.

~~*~~

Jenn McDonnell surreptitiously watched Matt as she and Owen played a game of pool.

She didn’t like Matt. Didn’t trust him. Sure as hell didn’t want to be around him.

It hadn’t always been that way. Once upon a time they’d kind of been friends. Not great friends like she and Chase, but kind of friends, the type that are just above acquaintance but not someone you would exactly tell secrets to. They’d once gotten along okay, kind of like siblings but not quite.

Somewhere along the way, though, her feelings towards Matt had changed. People sometimes asked her what had happened to make her dislike Matt so much. She would just shrug her shoulders and say something flippant, or that maybe it was the fact that since he’d made it to the Bigs eleven years ago he’d rarely come back home to see his family (and Jenn knew for a fact that Mrs. Roberts missed her “baby boy”). Or maybe she’d tell people that it was because he came across as an arrogant dick, like being blessed with a 98 mile per hour fastball and a nasty slider somehow made him better than the mere mortals who wore his jersey and cheered his name.

Somehow, along the way, she’d gotten pretty good at evading the truth.

So she would put up with him—when she had to—because Chase was his brother and one of her best friends. Like a brother, really. And tonight she was putting up with Matt more than she wanted to because she was trying to give Chase and Jo—her other best friend since childhood—some time alone together to try and figure out whatever was going on between the two of them (they were obviously meant for each other, but still hadn’t come to terms with that fact).

Speaking of…

From the corner of her eye, she saw Chase lead Jo out onto the dance floor, saw the way they looked at each other and smiled. It may have been the night before the Fourth of July, but Jenn was willing to bet money that there would be fireworks tonight.

She missed her shot, turning the table over to Owen Daniels. As her other best friend—she really was lucky, wasn’t she, to have three best friends?—lined up to take his shot, Jenn sipped from her margarita and watched Matt from the corner of her eye.

Even with his current crazy haircut, the man was hot. Her gaze kept wanting to skitter up to the stitches on the shaved side of his head—stitches that had happened after he’d been hit by a line drive and suffered a cracked skull and brain bleeding just a few weeks ago.

Looking at the stitches, though, did funny things to her stomach. She’d never been good with blood or injuries; they always made her feel squeamish and jittery inside. Seeing Matt’s head—and remembering the moment the injury had happened since she, Chase, Jo and Owen had been watching the game together—made her uncomfortable.

It made her want to care.

Jenn sipped her margarita and focused her gaze on the row of cue sticks on the opposite wall.

“You can look at them, y’know.”

Matt’s voice, deep and low, a whisper against her ear, startled her. She jolted. Slushy liquid sloshed in the glass in her hand.

She took a half step to the side, away from him. “Look at what?” she asked, not looking at him.

“The stitches. My head.”

She shrugged.

“Unless you’re one of those women who gets turned on by pain. That shit’s too kinky, even for me.”

Jenn closed her eyes. Gritted her teeth. “They make me feel squeamish.”

She could feel him beside her, hot and big and the epitome of Alpha Male. If he’d been a character in the Regency romances she loved to read, he most definitely would have been a rake.

And she? She would have been a wallflower. Or a governess.

A woman who most definitely did not garner attention from outrageously attractive males with hazel eyes, a lean body sculpted with muscle and lips that would make most women think about hot kisses and raunchy sex.

Jenn, though? She really just wanted to wipe the smirk from those sinful lips and not be aware of that muscled body.

“Stitches make you squeamish?”

Matt’s voice was deep and seductive, like the promise of silk sheets, dark chocolate and a bottle of wine. She steeled herself against it, knowing that he was all too aware of his…potency.

“Yes.”

He sighed. “You’re a strange woman, Jenn McDonnell.”

She snorted, watched Owen as he lined up to pocket the eight ball. “I’m strange? You’re the one walking around with half of your head shaved.”

“It’s different. I like it.”

“Or you just haven’t gotten to a stylist yet.” She somehow doubted he was a Super Cuts sort of guy.

Owen sank the eight ball and asked, “You up for another game?”

“Nah. I’m gonna go grab another drink, make sure Jo and Chase haven’t mauled each other by now.”

Jenn made her way through the bar, set her empty glass on a table holding other discarded drinks, and headed for the ladies’ room. She sang along as the DJ switched from Josh Abbott Band’s “Oh, Tonight” to “Fuzzy” by The Randy Rogers Band. The song’s tale of drunken escapades always made her think of
The Hangover
, which never failed to make her smile.

She finished up in the bathroom and walked out to the main bar area, didn’t see Jo and Chase and figured they’d stepped out to the back patio to get some air. She stepped up to the bar, ordered another margarita and walked back to the pool tables.

There were three women surrounding Matt, the same three that had fluttered around him when Jenn and Jo had first arrived. They’d scattered, but apparently had decided that Jenn and Jo weren’t competition.

Jenn stayed back, sipped her margarita as the fake redhead with fake boobs leaned into Matt and trailed her fingers down his chest and towards the waist band of his jeans. Owen caught her eye, shook his head as he lined up a shot. Jenn stifled a giggle.

The redhead’s fingers trailed lower, dipped inside Matt’s jeans. Jenn saw him roll his eyes before removing the redhead’s hand. She couldn’t hear what he said, but apparently Ms. Wandering Fingers wasn’t too happy about it, if the mulish expression on her face was any indication.

She was stifling laughter when she felt a tap on her shoulder, turned around and saw Jo, her cheeks flushed, eyes bright and hair slightly mussed. Jenn raised her eyebrows.

“I, uh, feel a migraine coming on. Chase is going to take me home. I’ll see you later.”

“Migraine, huh?” Jenn teased.

Jo’s blush deepened, but Jenn could tell she was trying not to smile. “Yeah. A migraine.”

Jenn laughed and hugged her best friend. “Well, I hope you find a way to get rid of it.”

Jo did laugh then, before turning and walking away. Jenn looked down at her margarita, contemplating the sugar crystals on the rim of the glass as a smile tugged at her lips.

Looked like she’d been right about those fireworks tonight.

~~*~~

Matt watched the exchange between Jo and Jenn, vaguely aware of the three women surrounding him. He’d never been a huge fan of jersey chasers to begin with, but having them surround him in his hometown seemed like a little too much even for him to take right now. Jo shook her head at something Jenn said, and Matt noted the tousled hair, swollen lips and beard burn on her neck.

Looked like little brother was finally going to score.

At least someone was.

Disgusted with his self-pitying thoughts, because, really, he was one of the best pitchers in the league with a healthy bank account, wise investments and women at his beck and call if he wanted them, Matt breathed deeply and tuned back in to the jersey chasers currently trying to score with him.

Yeah, that wasn’t happening.

Even if he’d been interested, the doctor had specifically told him no sex. Apparently repetitive motions and strenuous activities could still cause complications with the damned head wound.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

“So, Mattie, how ‘bout we go back to my place?” The brunette—Kara or Katie or Karma—asked with a pout as she trailed an index finger over his left bicep. “We could play pitcher and catcher, if you know what I mean.”

Jesus. Talk about a bad pickup line. “Thanks but, uh, no thanks.”

“Oh, come on, Mattie. It’ll be fun. Jeanine could join us if you like.” The brunette batted her eyelashes at him. Matt couldn’t remember which one Jeanine was, nor did he really care.

“Sorry. But I can’t. Doctor’s orders.” He shrugged, adopted an innocent expression and hoped like hell it worked. Despite not liking jersey chasers, he only got tough on them when he had to.

Kara/Katie/Karma lifted up onto her toes and whispered in his ear, “I’ll let you do me any way you want, Mattie. My pussy’s dripping wet and aching for that cock of yours.”

She nipped his ear lobe before lowering herself to her normal height, bit her lower lip and looked up at him with big green eyes. Matt sighed. Time to play hardball, apparently.

Normally, he would have someone with him he could pawn the girls off on—whether it be Darrin, a teammate, or a friend who was more than willing to take one for the team. Tonight, though, he had Owen—a guy he knew would be more likely to crack a joke than show any interest in any of the three women—and Jenn, who he was pretty sure would outright refuse to help him, especially after what had happened the last time she’d assisted in a Jersey Chaser Extraction.