Igniting the Wild Sparks (7 page)

“Sorry, Hadders!” He tosses the ball once more to me and takes off for his 15 minutes. Unlike me, Rod is absolutely looking forward to his spotlight.

Again, I move to hear the interview. This one will be more or less a study of what Finn will probably ask me.

Finn introduces Rod and they shake hands. Nice start, I suppose. Rod’s smile is bright and eager, while Finn’s is more reserved and professional. Before Finn can ask the first question, Rod inquires, “Do you really watch all the games you report on?”

Finn cordially nods and explains, “Most of them, but I can’t be everywhere at once. I also have other things I have to get done.”

“Like what? Washing your car?”

From my spot near the pitcher’s mound, I see Finn’s forehead wrinkle and his skewed smile. “Uh, yeah. I do that, but not usually when there’s a game I need to watch.”

“I thought you just said you can’t watch every game.”

“I said I can’t be everywhere at once, but I honestly can’t watch
every
game.”

Rod crosses his arms. “So, you regularly give us sketchy information and lull us into a false sense of security?”

I notice Finn desperately holding onto his fast-slipping public mask as he answers, “How do I do that? I only report scores and highlights.”

“Now you’re saying your job is menial?”

The look on Finn’s face is a mix of unadulterated bafflement and sheer homicidal. “Huh? No. I mean, I don’t report the headlines.”

“Are you thinking now that you went to college for the wrong career
, since your job isn’t important?”

“Wait a minute. You’re turning this around on me. I know my job is important to a lot of people.”

“How do you know that? You’re not even at the games because you’re busy washing your car.”

Finn disbelievingly laughs and shakes his head as if to clear his muddled mind. “What just happened?  Here’s the deal. There are some that I do have to watch and since I can’t watch them all and have a life outside of work, my co-Sports anchors and I split up the games. Is that answer satisfactory?”

“I guess. I just asked a simple question. Wow.”

After
Rod comes back to stand with me, I astutely look over and see that Finn has his arms crossed, leaning against the framework of the shelter covering home plate. His grin growing exponentially when his gaze catches mine, he adorably tilts his head and crooks his finger at me.

Caught! I glance around
and point to my chest, mouthing to him, “Me?”

He nods as his grin impossibly widens more; reminding me of the smile he gave me when we played on the beach.
Shit. He will come and forcibly pick me up with me kicking and screaming just like he did then, too.

Suddenly, Rod grabs my arm
, pulling, and I go as eagerly as a fat turkey goes willingly out behind the woodshed on Thanksgiving. I shove on his arm trying to break free, but that does me no good. Does he actually work out when we, well, work out?

Nearly tossing me to the wolves, Rod proclaims,
“Here’s your last victim, coach.”

Finn’s eyes don’t leave me as he replies,
“Thanks, Rod.”

Walking over with a black thing in her hands, Cara
says, “This is a mic. I’m going to hook it up to you. Lift your shirt.” She speaks to me like she’d rather be scooping out cat litter. I don’t want her touching me, but I nod anyway. Handing me the wire, she works on attaching the box to the back of my jeans. Finn’s smile falters while he fixedly looks on as I lift my shirt a little and thread the wire up to my collar. Then, grabbing the mic through my shirt opening, Cara clips it onto my T-shirt collar. Her perfume engulfs me and I turn my head so I don’t throw up in her face. It’s horrendous. Does she bathe in it? I doubt a hooker would buy it at a yard sale. I wish Finn were the one helping me instead of this hussy because I’d sooner Rod see me naked than for her to fondle me.

Maybe that’s a tad extreme on both counts.

When I’m done, his smug smile returns. “Thanks, Cara.” He then nods to the camera aimed at the chain link surrounding home plate. “Shall we?”

I feel the vomit ascending. “Do we have to? Really? Can I defer to a later date?”

He slowly shakes his head, his eyes boring into mine, throwing me off my train of thought. “Nope. Everyone else had to do it. Now, so do you.” I guess I’m
not
special to him after all.

Resorting to despairing
methods, I actually whine and virtually stomp. “But, I don’t want to!”

Finn raises a challenging eyebrow, daring me to argue with him here with a literal audience. “Oh, come on. Put a smile on that face and answer a couple innocent questions. No harm. No foul.”

I cross my arms and sneer, “Was that a baseball pun?”

He licks his lips and nods his head, self-righteously smiling and mockingly replying, “Yeah. Good observation. I hope you’re that sharp on the field.”

I gulp and peer at the baseball diamond. “Yeah. Me, too.”

He takes a few steps backwards until he’s in front of the camera and I
more than grudgingly follow, nervously finger-brushing my ponytail. I glance at Milo, who is grinning ear-to-ear at my mini breakdown. The other guy, Reed, doesn’t give me much of a second glance, which is a relief.

Reed nods at Milo and shouts, “Action!”

Finn looks at the camera and starts, “This is my final player.” He turns his head to face me and his dark eyes sparkle as they sweetly crinkle at the corners. “Can you tell my viewers your name?”
Do I have to?

Folding my arms under my breasts, I clear my throat and softly reply, “Hadley Beckett,” at the ground, but his gaze almost has a gravitational pull, forcing me to swiftly glance back up to him, now trapped in his absorbed stare.

As if in a trance of his own, he nods and puts his left hand on his hip. It feels like we have been staring at each other for eons when he finally asks, “What do you think of playing softball with your coworkers? So far, is it fun and it’s all good, or do you wish you all were in a bowling league instead?” I know he was teasing Shasta a little, but he’s actually interviewing me. That slightly calms me, yet unnerves me, too. I feel like a conundrum that even
I
can’t figure out.

Blinking out of my
preoccupation, I take a shaky, deep breath. “I love softball. I played shortstop when I was younger. I think it’ll be fun playing with people I work with every day, but barely see. That sounds weird, I know. We work on the same floor, yet don’t see each other much. Maybe it’s just me. I kind of stay in my office and keep to myself, so I’m very much out of the loop. I think I’m rambling. Sorry.”

He
laughs and it’s a genuine Finn Wilder laugh. I presume my suffering must be entertaining on his end. “You’re fine.” He continues to study me with his laidback smile and I try to relax a little, but my hands are shaking so badly. I’m afraid I’m going to throw up in front of all his Finnatics. I hope he’d have a heart and edit that out.

Finn nonchalantly
climbs his fingers above our heads into the chain link next to us and my gaze slides to his firm, barbed-wired bicep peeking out from his T-shirt’s short sleeve. He’s so confidant and sexy. Will his fans notice how I’m gawking at him like a lovesick kid?

He asks,
“You surprised everyone with the hits you made yesterday. I was impressed, to say the least. Were you that good back then, too?” His interview reminds me of the questions he fired off at me the first few days on the phone before he asked me out.

Shrugging as a preliminary answer, I
play with my ponytail while I inanely gawk at his handsome face, wanting to kiss his full lips again. I need to get with it or I’ll look even more absurd than I already do. I’m sure Rod is having a literal field day watching me fall flat like my pancakes. “I guess. I hit a few home runs.” Oddly, Finn joyfully beams as if he’s proud of my answer, and that magnificent grin of his is ultimately the death of me. Being away from him and his valiant effort to not parade our relationship around my coworkers ignites something in me. A couple weeks ago, I was upset with him for hiding me. So how could I not want him to show his love for me in public now? Additionally, with Cara and Shasta looking on, I want to show them what’s mine.

And that is Finnigan Wilder.

Morgan’s words replay in my head:

“Whatever you have to do to hold onto your man, Hadley.”

With new motivation, I decisively smile, conveying inexplicable confidence. “It’s my turn to ask
you
a question.”

His twinkling eyes widen and he
skeptically chuckles. “What question did
you
want to ask me?”
There’s one that I really want to ask you…

I’m unwavering on the road to my goal.
“I saw your tattoo dare.” I return his earlier challenging look with one of my own. He stops blinking and I can practically hear his breathing pick up. “Out with it. What’s your girlfriend like?”

His
smile freezes while his eyes scour my face, breaking entirely from his professional demeanor. Will he not answer me or cut the interview short? Finn’s public mask completely tumbles when he anxiously licks his lips and swallows hard. His eyes become darker even in the sun as they lock onto mine. Although he appears unsettled, he steadily says, “She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. Stunning doesn’t begin to describe her. She makes me laugh, think and care about things I never did before. She’s my other half, my soulmate, and my best friend. I fall more in love with her each day.”

Astonished beyond belief at
Finn’s public admission, I manage to stutter on the word
wow
.

How much
is he willing to admit on camera? Wanting to drive him further, I step closer to him. When I do, I notice the muscles tensing in his upheld arm as he stares down at me. He acutely inhales, his eyes spiritedly searching mine, before he says, “You asked; now
you
tell me. What’s your boyfriend like?”

I demurely smile
at his question. “He’s sweet, devoted, caring, soulful, and the sexiest man I’ve ever seen in my life. His smile, eyes and magical, color-changing hair are my favorite things to stare at. His daringly cocky attitude hurdles me to the brink of insanity and back, but I wouldn’t change it for the world. He’s my missing puzzle piece, my soulmate, and my best friend. My love for him multiplies by leaps and bounds every time I look at him.”

“Wow
,” he steals my earlier, stuttered reply.

Reaching up, I boldly curl my fingers into the neck of his T-shirt, making his microphone crackle, and I pull down until his heart tattoo is exposed. “Becks,” I state like it’s an answer to a question. He cautiously nods and I feign obliviousness. “What did you say your girlfriend’s name is?” I look from his tattoo up to his guarded eyes.

“Hadley.”

I’ll never stop loving how my name sounds in his deep voice and how it rocks me to the core
every single time.

I grin
. “What a coincidence.” We both dazedly nod at each other and I forget the camera in our faces, along with the crowd around us.

He says,
“Tell my viewers the name that
only
your boyfriend calls you.” My heart is the one to stammer now from his statement and the sudden reminder of our audience.

Finn
cockily smirks. “I
dare
you.”

Shaking off the fleeting self-consciousness, m
atching grins spread across our faces as we taunt one another. “Challenge accepted.” I bite my lip and glance at Cara, who looks like she’s witnessing an explosion at a match factory.
Suck it up, bitch
.

I look back at Finn and
my lips curve into a gratifying smile. “Becks. Finn Wilder calls me
Becks
.”

Finn
drops his hand from the fence and with me still gripping his T-shirt, he leans closer to me until we’re nose-to-nose, his quick breath blowing across my face. “What a coincidence.”
His brash smirk disappears and his fiery gaze falls to my lips.

I desperately want to kiss him, but we aren’t alone.

Fuck it.

I
yank on his shirt collar as my other hand flies up to his face, pulling him down to mine. Our lips readily collide, my fingers sliding into his hair, and he kisses me as if I’m the oxygen he desperately needed.

As do I.

From behind us, I vaguely hear whooping and hollering, mostly coming from Rod, Morgan and Val.

Finn
abruptly breaks our kiss to look out at the team on the field, and then turns back to the camera. He happily nods at me. “Oh, yeah. She’s my Becks.”

Before I can fully comprehend what just happened, he eagerly swoops down to kiss me again.

CHAPTER 4

“You’re dating our
coach
?”

“He was my boyfriend first.”

“Finn Wilder just kissed you!”

“How in the hell did we not know you were dating him?”

“Does he wear boxers or briefs?”

After our scandalous kiss, Finn
told Milo to cut and then bolted, taking Ricky with him, of course. From the other side of the fence, Cara shot daggers at me. If I thought she hated me before, she definitely will not be joining my fan club any time soon.

As soon as Finn
made his escape, Shasta and Betsy, who seems to be the other office gossip, accosted me. I hadn’t realized that before since I don’t hang out with her. I thought Rod was bad, but most of his revelations are actually true, which makes me give the bit about Amos actual credence.

Betsy
essentially glares at me, while Shasta crosses her arms and snaps, “Are you serious?
You’re
the girlfriend you mentioned he had?”

I look around in vain for my other half, but he’s nowhere to be found. Men.
Clearing my throat, I adjust my ponytail as I indiscreetly scan the area for Rod or Morgan. “Yes.”

Betsy offers her two cents. “And you weren’t going to tell us?”

Dropping my arms and then crossing them, I shrug and keep aimlessly searching for help. “We didn’t think it was a big deal.”

Putting her hands on her hips,
Shasta disdainfully asks, “Where’d you two meet?” What are she and Betsy doing? Tag teaming?

Sneaking up from behind and putting his arm around me, Rod answers,
“Rehab.”

Not helping, Rod.

I frown sourly at him and he pats my shoulder before walking away. Facing my firing squad alone again, I say, “In the emergency room when I broke my wrist. He was there with his sister when she was sick.”

Shasta shakes her head and
irritably scowls. “Damn. I’ll have to break my wrist and scout the ER.” She could always break a hip and prowl an old folks’ home. “Maybe I’ll be able to hook a hot celebrity.”

I roll my eyes at her outrageous statement.
“He’s only a local celebrity and I didn’t
hook
him. He approached me.”

Shasta’s eyes widen
in disbelief. “Oh! That’s surprising.”
Fuck you!

I shoot an eyebrow up and derisively ask,
“Why?”

She shrugs
with a condescending smile. “At first sight, you don’t seem like you would be his type. He’s charismatic and popular. You’re…not.”

I have to grab the chain link to
restrain myself from tearing her hair out. I say through my teeth, “He has his moments.” She has
no
idea what my boyfriend is really like.

Walking back to us and laughing, Rod has
Morgan in tow and they stop next to me. Rod scoffs, “Quiet? Hadley Beckett? You don’t know her as well as I do! She’s crude, rude and has a bad attitude.”

Betsy laughs. “That’s hard to believe!”
Fuck you, too!

Rod rests his arm on top of my head
, forcing me to stoop. “Don’t doubt me.”

Shasta pouts.
“You get to sleep with Finn Wilder and wake up next to him. With messy bedhead, not to mention even huskier voice after he just wakes up, he must be some sight to wake up to.” No kidding. That’s why I’ve been late for work on more than one occasion.

I shove at Rod’s arm
, compelling him to move. “He is. I hate leaving him in our bed to go to work.”
That’s right, Shasta.
Our
bed.

“He also makes you late for kite festivals. That’s gross.” Rod makes gagging noises from behind me. I take note to
never introduce him to Simone.

Shasta heavily sighs and tosses her hair back.
“Well, if you ever decide to kick him out of your bed, send him my way.” She laughs, but I know she’s not even joking.

I laugh on the outside, but am raging on the inside.
“Never getting rid of him.”

Back off, bitch.

“Damn,” she says with disappointment, not even trying to hide it.

Morgan sneers, “You’d actually date a coworker’s leftovers?”

“Well, if he was available. Why not? He
is
gorgeous.”

Trying to stay civil, I keep my growling in check.
“I know he is.”

Shasta probes, “You’ve been dating Finn for a year?” Sh
e and Betsy both look cynically from me to Rod and then at me again.

“Three
years.” I correct her.

Betsy looks at my left hand. “
That’s a
long
time. Isn’t he going to put a ring on it?” This damn question is really plucking my last nerve like a bird snapping at a worm stuck in dried cement.

“I don’t know. We’re living together. That’s good enough for me.”
Almost
living together. Close enough.

Morgan steps up to both of them with her arms crossed
, preparing to go to battle for me once more. However, I’m ready to prevent her from doing so this time. “What does it matter if they’re going to get married or not?”

“I just wondered how serious they were.”

“Extremely. He has a tattoo of the nickname he gave her and did it on TV. That’s pretty tenacious, don’t you think? If you can’t see how much he loves her just from that, then you’re clueless.”

Shasta shrugs and laughs. “He could always get it changed or removed.”

I adamantly shake my head. “He’d never do that.”
He’d better not!

Behind Shasta, I notice Finn returning to the field
. He’s holding his clipboard and is again, all business. All coach. Even his sunglasses are back on his face. Mechanically as if he called me to him or pulled on my leash, I step away from the grand jury to meet him, and they follow. Finn glances my way, transitorily licks his lips and hurriedly looks away again, his walls once more up and reinforced with cement, barbed wire, and 10 Pinkerton guards.

We all gather and take a seat in the grass in front of
him. Sparks looks out at us, I think. I’m not sure since his eyes are concealed. He stiffly says, “I’d like to thank everyone for your cooperation in the interviews.”

Rod snorts and slaps my back. “Especially Hadley, here. She was
extremely
cooperative with you.”

Morgan slaps Rod on the back harder. “Dick Rod, you’re just jealous
you
didn’t get a kiss from him.”

I
hear Finn’s deep intake of breath as he lowers his clipboard, holding it against him like a shield. “Okay. As you all just saw, I kissed Hadley.” He did? I thought
I
kissed
him
?
“Yes. We are a couple and have been for the past three years.” He pulls the clipboard up, essentially finished talking about his private life, having already put too much of it on public display for the rest of his life. “Anyway, I have made a list and assigned positions for you. If you have suggestions to make or have any questions, we’ll address them afterward.”

Rod whispers, “Hundred bucks you’re his bat girl.” I heave him away from me and
intently stare at Finn. Is he going to give me a crap position just to put distance between us because of all of my new haters?

“Our first pitcher will be Crick.”

Rod leans into me again. “Really, Wilder?”

“Our second pitcher is Rod. Catcher will be Amos.”

Rod practically convulses at that announcement. He heatedly whispers to me, “Oh my God! Is that a fucking joke? I’m
not
gay!” I cover my mouth and bow my head as I laugh. Rod punches my arm and I whimper. He swiftly rubs the spot he hit and mumbles an apology. He’s definitely been lifting weights, or Dumpsters.

Morgan
tosses at Rod, “Maybe
you’re
the last to know.” Rod reaches in front of me and offers his middle finger to Morgan, which again earns him a stern glare from Val, and a hissed curse from Rod in response.

Finn continues,
“First base is Grant and Betsy. Second is Val. Third is Shasta and Rhonda. Shortstop is Brandon. Hadley is left field. Gloria, center. Sylvie is right field. Morgan, scorekeeper and water girl.”

I’ve been relegated to
actually
being out in left field? What the hell?

“If we need to make any adjustments or need to pull someone to fill another position, we’ll do that
. Nothing is written in stone.”

He’d better believe it isn’t.

After Finn dismisses us, I go home and take a shower. I had wanted to talk to him after practice, but he was too busy talking to Ricky. I didn’t want to interrupt because Ricky looked rather grim and not in a joking mood. I also didn’t want to get into an argument with him before he had to go to work. His viewers don’t need to see him like that. Once was enough.

I pick out my long-sleeved dress with a drawstring around the waist. The dress is gray on top, but morphs into black at the skirt. I twist my hair up and pile it on top of my head because I can’t get it to look right any other way. As I’m putting on a pair of strappy black heels, Finn calls and tells me to meet him at Chimborazo before we go eat, given that he had to do some more last-minute
Wild Side
work from there.

Parking next to his car in the lot and being careful not to fall, I smooth out my dress’ skirt
and pick pieces of lint off. When I look up, Finn is right next to me.

I jump. “Whoa
! You’re fast!”

His tie is gone and his light green shirt is unbuttoned at the collar. I see the chain for his key peeking out from underneath. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He bends and gives me a kiss. His lips make me forget where I am
for the second time today. Even so, before I can become too carried away, he pulls back. “You look breathtaking as usual.” He nods to his car. “I brought something with me.”

“Thanks. You did?
What?”

He opens the passenger door of his car and pulls out a big paper bag with handles and a cardboard tray holding drinks. “Dinner. I thought we could eat here, since the weather’s nice. Is that okay with you?”

I smile and tuck loose hair, already falling from the top, behind my ear. “That sounds great.” I take the drinks from him. He locks his car and holds out his empty hand for me.

We start walking
and I diffidently ask, “So, did you really have work to do here?”

He bites his lip and looks at me, chagrined.
“Uh, no. We wrapped early and I thought of this. I had to think of some way to get you here.” He smiles and lifts the bag higher. “I ordered your usual lasagna. I hope you don’t mind.”

I smile in return at his thoughtfulness and calculated strategy.
“I don’t mind. How was work?”

Finn chuckles.
“It was okay. Reed kept ragging on me about you. He said my girlfriend is going to be pissed when she sees me kissing another woman on my show.”

I laugh
. “I imagine she will be pissed if you were kissing someone else.”

He turns to look at me as we walk. “
Just so you know, that’s not a dare I would ever take. You’re the only woman I plan on kissing from here on out, baby.” To prove his point, he stops walking and as I falter to a stop, he leans down to kiss me.

I gri
n against his lips. “You’re so cute.”

He mumbles against mine,
“I know.”

Pulling away, I
teasingly scoff, “And self-possessed.”

“Sometimes.” He laughs. “
Are you calling me cocky?”

I nod as he gently tugs my hand forward. “Yep. I have to mix it up to keep you guessing.”

After the kite festival, Rod did say, “Multiplicity is the seasoning of existing.” This coming from a guy who thought I was nicknamed after a beer, and who once referred to quickie sex as a Jiffy Pop.