Cinderella Steals Home (5 page)

Doan comes flying down the slide, slamming into the water with a splash that soaks the deck and almost reaches my chair.
 

He pops up out of the water and swims over to the ledge that runs around the side and hoists himself onto it, running a hand through his short dirty blonde hair. The sun catches the silver metal dog tags hanging around his neck. I wonder if they belong to his brother, and why Doan wears them now.

I don't miss the way his tan washboard abs have no pockets of extra fat anywhere as he sits, and how his biceps flex with every movement of his hand. I've always loved that ripple of the vein that runs down a guy's arm when he has particularly strong definition in his muscles there. My mouth runs dry when I catch sight of Doan's, and I quickly look away.
 

I can't stand him, but I'm not blind. I can't help it if I notice these things, right?

CHAPTER FIVE

"Coming out to the diamond today?"
 

Justin wanders into the kitchen dressed in shorts and a T-shirt and rests his dusty baseball glove on the counter next to my bowl of cereal.
 

I wrinkle my nose and look up at him. "Really?"
 

"What? Baseball that offensive to you, Holls?"
 

"Not that."
 

He follows my gaze to his glove. "That bother you?"
 

"It's gross."
 

"Sorry." He reaches over and picks it up. "Not used to living with a girl."
 

I raise an eyebrow. "What do you consider Tanya?"

"She doesn't count."
 

I decide not to press him for more information about Dad's wife. "Oh. Well, I think I'll skip it," I say, knowing that it means extra togetherness with Dad around, which is exactly what I'm trying to avoid if I can help it.

"Staying home?" Tanya comes sweeping into the kitchen in a wash of perfume and heels and red lipstick. "It's a beautiful day. Come with me to the spa."

Justin coughs and puts his mitt over his mouth.
 

"The spa?" I repeat.
 

Tanya digs around in her expensive-looking designer handbag and doesn't look at me. "Yes, of course. I have an appointment. Facial, massage, manicure, the works. It's simply divine. You must come."
 

"Actually, Tanya, thanks, but I think I'm going to head to practice with Justin and Dad."
 

She barely even blinks. "Suit yourself," she says like it doesn't bother her at all that I'm not going.
 

Tanya walks out of the kitchen like Justin and I aren't even there, and we both let out a breath when she's gone.

He's grinning at me. "Baseball it is!"
 

I sigh. "Baseball it is."

"Go get dressed," he says, and I glance down at my pajamas. "I'll meet you in the garage."
 

***
 

Justin pulls his BMW into a small gravel parking lot in front of what looks like a big patch of grass and some dirt. I'd offered to drive my Honda, but he'd just looked at me and laughed.
 

A handful of guys are already out in the grass tossing around a baseball. Justin gets out of the car, and I follow him a few steps behind. I scan the field for my father, but I don't see him yet.
 

I start wandering over to the metal bleachers behind a chain-link fence where I figure I'll sit and watch practice and soak up more of the sunshine. My legs had gotten a nice bit of color yesterday by the pool, but I'm still as pale as a ghost by Arizona standards.
 

I'm scrolling through my phone when I hear the fence rattle. I look up and see a ball lying on the grass next to it as a guy dressed in basketball shorts jogs over to it.
 

I glance back down at my phone, not interested in making small talk.
 

"I hope you've got sunblock on."
 

I snap my head back up, and there's Doan, grinning at me from beneath a Phoenix Coyotes baseball hat. He's tossing the stray baseball back and forth between his hand and glove.
 

I smile even though nothing about him makes me happy.
 
I reach into the bag by my feet, pull out my bottle of sunscreen and wave it at him.
 

"Here you go."
 

"Good job, lady. Sun's hot today."
 

"Isn't it hot everyday?"
 

He laughs. "You make a good point."
 

"Soon enough you'll learn not to sound surprised about that."
 

Doan raises an eyebrow. "Oh, yeah?"
 

"So this is practice?" I ask, changing the subject.
 

He blinks once. "Oh. Uh, we didn't start yet."
 

"I didn't know you were on this team."
 

He wiggles his eyebrow at me. "Disappointed to see me here? I'm a pitcher at the University of Arizona."
 

I roll my eyes. "You're not exactly my favorite person."
 

Doan places a hand over his heart. "You're killing me, Holly. I don't know what I did to deserve this."
 

"Yeah, you do."
 

 
He sighs. "Come on, I didn't mean anything by it. I was just having some fun."

"Fun that could have killed someone." I shake my head. "It isn't a game, Doan. You can't gamble with people's lives just because you're bored."
 

He stares at me for a few beats. "I wasn't gambling with -- it's not because I'm -- you know what? Forget it. I can't explain it to someone like you, anyway."
 

"That's because there is no explanation."
 

"Let it go, Holly."
 

I let out a long, bitter laugh. "I'm not going to do that. What you did was so incredibly stupid and it makes me really mad. Sorry if you don't wanna hear it, but I'm gonna tell you what I think."
 

"I know!" he snaps. "Okay? I know. It's stupid. But that doesn't change anything."
 

"Change anything about what?"
 

"What I did. Why I did it. All of it. Nothing changes anyway," he says. "So you can quit it with the lectures. You're wasting your time. And mine."
 

I stare at him, eyes narrowed, mouth open, stunned he has the gall to yell at me about what he did.
 

"Fine," I say. "If you want to get yourself killed, that isn't my problem."

Something flashes in his eyes, and I have no idea what it is, but it's there just long enough to startle me.
 

"You're right," he hisses. "It isn't your problem. So stop trying to make it one."
 

I look at him, realizing I'm breathing a little bit heavier than normal, my heart thumping against my chest as we stare at one another.
 

"Doan, I --
 
"

"Don't, Holly. Just...don't. I have to get back to practice."
 

I don't get a chance to say anything as he turns and jogs away from me. I don't even know what I'd want to tell him, if I could tell him anything, or why this bothers me so much, but there's a thick cement brick in my stomach. This car-racing thing, it isn't just fun, stupid recklessness. There's something else there.
 

And for some reason, I'm not going to be able to let it go until I figure out what it is.
 

***

Dad's been at the field for almost two hours now, and I can't stop watching the practice even though I'd thought I had no interest in it as anything other than a reason to escape girls' day with Tanya.

My brother is pretty good at baseball -- all of the guys are -- but my eyes keep wandering over to Doan as he works on the pitcher's mound.
 

He's good at what he does, but I'm not watching him so I can suggest improvements for his curveball.
 

I don't really know why I can't take my eyes off of him because if I could draw up the exact opposite of what I want in a guy, Doan's it.
 

Except for the whole drool-inducing abs and gorgeous eyes and annoyingly sexy smile, but there's not much I can do about that. Besides, his personality more than ruins any bonus he earns from his time in the gym.
 

"Alright!" Dad yells out, clapping his hands. "That'll do for today, gentlemen. Nice practice."
 

The guys all jog over to the bleachers where I'm sitting to gather their things and head to their cars.
 

"We're gonna grab some pizza," Justin says to me as I stand and pick up my bag. My stomach growls as soon as he mentions food. "You in?"
 

I catch sight of Doan climbing into the front seat of his black pick-up truck, the sun reflecting off of the metal dog tags hanging around his neck, and suddenly I want to tell Justin no thanks, but my stomach rumbles again and he laughs.
 

"I'll take that as a yes," he says, and I frown. "Besides, you've gotta ride home with Dad if you don't come. He'll love that."
 

I sigh and open the passenger side door of his car, and he smiles.
 

"Good choice."
 

"I didn't know Doan was on the team," I say once we pull out of the parking lot and into traffic. His truck is just a few cars in front of ours and I notice an Arizona Wildcats baseball decal on the back window for the first time.
 

Justin glances over at me. "Yeah, he is. He's one of the best pitchers in the state. I saw you talking to him before."
 

"He's kind of a jerk."
 

"Yeah, he is. But cut him some slack. He has his reasons."
 

I shake my head. "Nothing excuses him."
 

Don't be so judgmental."
 

I glare at my brother, mouth hanging open. "How can you say that? Do you even know what he did?"
 

"I can guess," Justin says. "But it doesn't matter. I know his story."
 

"Okay, so what is it?"
 

"Not my story to tell, Holls."
 

"Well, then, I don't know how you expect me to be okay with him."
 

Justin sighs. "I was hoping you could take my word for it. He'll tell you when he's ready to, if he ever decides that's something he wants. It isn't up to me."
 

"Then why mention it at all?"
 

He shrugs. "Doan's my friend and I know there's a solid guy in there most times. Was just hoping you'd trust me."

I shake my head, thinking of the car race down the busy street the other day, the squeal of the tires, the smell of the burning rubber, the cloud of smoke, and all the innocent lives they'd put it danger.
 

"Whatever."
 

Justin lets out a sigh, and we drive the rest of the way to the restaurant in silence. I'm hoping that Doan will have just decided to go home and his pick-up won't be in the parking lot, but Justin pulls into a space right next to the truck.

Great.

We're the last to arrive and the hostess walks us over to a long table in the middle of the place. There are only two seats left; one, naturally, is right next to Doan.

He grins at me -- an obnoxious, toothy, arrogant grin -- when I glance at him, and I frown. I'm grateful that Justin's walking in front of me. He knows how I feel about Doan; there's no way I'll have to be the one to sit next to him.
 

But then Justin drops into the seat next to the curly red-haired guy, leaving the only empty chair next to Doan, and my heart stutters and a pit forms in my stomach and mostly I just want to smack my brother across the face.
 

I narrow my eyes as I flop down into the chair.

Hey Holls," Doan says cheerfully, like he wasn't just yelling at me a few hours ago.
 

I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. "Hi," I mutter. "Don't call me Holls."
 

Justin nudges me with his foot under the table, and that's when I realize he did this on purpose. He wants me to sit next to Doan. Is he crazy? I press my sandal down onto his sneaker as hard as I can, and I smile when I hear him mutter an obscenity under his breath.

Good.

Serves him right.
 

"So, pizza," says one of the guys sitting at the other end of the table. "I'm thinking four of them. Pick 'em like we usually do."
 

I've always been fussy about my pizza toppings so this guy's announcement sends me into a moment of panic.
 

"How do you usually pick them?" I whisper to Justin.
 

"There are twelve of us tonight, so three of us will decide on a pie for the whole table and then we wind up with four different pizzas with whatever on them. It's sweet."
 

"You don't get weird things on them, do you?"
 

He shrugs. "Sometimes."
 

"You know I can only have pepperoni."
 

"Me too," Doan says, and I glance at him over my shoulder with a scowl on my face. "But I usually get sucked into eating something gross on my pizza here."
 

"That's the worst," I say politely.
 

"I'll split pepperoni with you," he offers.

"That's okay."

"You're gonna be picking anchovies and spinach and pineapples off your slices if you don't."
 

I let out a small sigh. It's just pizza, right?

"Fine, fine."
 

He grins at me like he's won some kind of battle. "Awesome."
 

We all place our orders for the different pizzas and then the guys fall into smaller conversations, most of them about baseball. Justin's talking to the two guys across the table from him, while Doan's deep into a discussion with the guys on his other side.