Their All-Star Summer
Author
Kaylie Newell
Reads
16.0K
Chapters
16
HarlequinChapter One
Marley Carmichael was home.
She couldn’t quite believe it as she looked around the small pizza parlor she used to frequent as a teenager, complete with a sizable chip on her shoulder.
Taking a deep breath, she ran her fingers over the rim of her wineglass. She kept thinking of that old cigarette ad—You’ve come a long way, baby. She had come a long way. She was an adult now. Twenty-nine in a few weeks and on the verge of starting her dream job, something she’d been working toward her whole life. And that chip? It was nothing but a reminder that she could do hard things. Being back in Christmas Bay was going to be hard. But she could do it. She’d done a lot harder.
“We forgot to make a toast before dinner,” Stella said. “To the new voice of the Tiger Sharks baseball team.”
Marley felt some of the tension ease from her shoulders as she looked back at the three women sitting around the table. The only family she’d ever really known.
“I can’t believe you picked Mario’s for your celebration dinner,” Kyla said, leaning forward so they could hear her above the clamor of the restaurant. “I don’t think they’ve changed the carpet in here since high school.”
Stella laughed. “I know they haven’t changed the carpet since high school.”
“I like it,” Frances said. “It reminds me of the sixties.”
“Groovy.” Stella smiled and picked up her wineglass, holding it high. “To Marley. Welcome back, honey.”
They all raised their glasses and clinked them together. Some kids in the corner had started an arcade game, and the beeps and buzzes sounded comfortingly familiar. The smell of warm bread and cheese, the view of the ocean outside the smudged windows, the worn, colorful carpet that Frances liked so much. It was all bringing her back to where her heart had been the most hopeful. But also the most broken.
“So,” Kyla said, setting her glass back down, “how does it feel to be back?”
Kyla probably had a good idea, since her childhood had been similar. Marley and her foster sisters all shared the same kind of baggage, the same kind of pain. It had kept them bonded over the years.
“Honestly, I still can’t believe it. I never thought...”
“None of us ever thought,” Stella said, putting an arm around Frances. “But here we are.”
Frances smiled. Their foster mother was an absolutely beautiful sixty-two, with platinum blond hair and glowing skin. She had kind eyes and a quick smile. She was also struggling with early-onset Alzheimer’s—a cold, hard truth that was the reason why Marley had come back to stay. It was the reason they’d all come back to stay.
“I’m just so happy you’re here,” Frances said. “I might cry.”
“Don’t do that,” Stella said. “Or I’ll have to cry with you, and I don’t have waterproof mascara on.”
“I second that,” Kyla said.
Marley took another sip of wine. “I’m happy, too, Frances. And I always wear waterproof mascara, so you just go ahead and cry if you want to.”
Across the restaurant, the door opened with a gust of chilly sea air. They all glanced over to see a large group walk in—about five or six women, milling around two men who seemed used to the attention. Marley watched them. The women were dressed up, their hair and makeup done to perfection, while the men looked like they’d just come from the gym. They wore matching Tiger Sharks baseball caps and T-shirts, and were incredibly fit.
These were pro athletes. Marley could tell. She’d worked around guys like this for years. And the women were groupies. They were too giggly and attentive to be anything but.
“Oh my God,” Stella said, twisting around in her seat. “Do you know who that is?”
Kyla’s eyes widened. “I do. Marley, it’s one of your new coworkers.”
Marley looked over at the men again and realized with a sinking feeling that the taller one did look familiar. Oh, no... He’d definitely changed, grown. He was bigger now, thicker in the shoulders and chest, but it had been a decade since she’d seen him last. And even though she was a baseball fanatic, she hadn’t followed his career because he’d been such an arrogant ass back then. She hadn’t really cared what happened to him and his batting average.
“Owen Taylor?” she managed, watching as one of the women slipped her arms around his waist.
“In the flesh,” Stella whispered.
Frances frowned. “Who’s Owen Taylor?”
They glanced at each other, knowing this was another example of Frances’s memory loss, since nearly everyone in Christmas Bay had heard of him at one point or another. He’d been on the brink of superstardom in high school. He and Marley had been in the same grade, and she remembered the night he’d shattered their school’s strikeout record like it was yesterday. After that, he’d been pursued by every college scout imaginable and had his pick of full-ride scholarships. She thought he’d ended up somewhere on the West Coast—UCLA, maybe. She didn’t know because she’d chosen to block him and his cocky swagger from her mind. She loved baseball. She didn’t necessarily love all baseball players.
“The pitcher, Frances,” Kyla said.
The kids who’d been playing the arcade game apparently recognized him, because they abandoned it and rushed over. The teenage girl behind the counter looked flushed, batting her eyelashes as he turned his hat around backward and grinned down at her. He was enjoying this. All of it. Some things never changed.
Marley leaned back in her chair and narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t tell me he’s playing for the Sharks.”
“He’s playing for the Sharks,” Stella said matter-of-factly.
“He’s my age.”
“Are you saying you’re old?”
“No! But he is. For a pitcher in the minors.”
“He signed on last season for a two-year contract. The paper wrote an article about it. Frances, you clipped it out, and we were going to send it to Marley before she moved out here, but Beauregard threw up on it, remember?”
Frances looked resigned. “Cats. Thankfully, I don’t remember that.”
“He washed out in college,” Stella said, “because he didn’t take it seriously enough or something, and he’s been trying to get back on his feet ever since. The Sharks picked him up, and of course, he’s really good. Setting all kinds of minor-league records, making the ladies swoon... Even though he’s old.”
Ignoring her teasing, Marley took a sip of wine. What she really wanted to do was go back to her little town house overlooking the pier, crawl into bed and forget she’d ever seen Owen Taylor again. Being in the same room with him was bringing back all kinds of memories. Memories of her childhood. Memories of being an outsider. Memories of being sad and alone, and having to face a new life in foster care.
“I think it’s kind of romantic,” Kyla said. “Him never giving up his dreams like that.”
Stella gave Marley a knowing look. “You still don’t like him, do you?”
“What’s to like?”
Just as she said this, he turned to survey the room like he was surveying his kingdom. Marley stiffened as his gaze swept right over them. He was still gorgeous, no doubt about that. With that maddening tilt to his mouth, like he knew exactly what kind of attention he was commanding, and from whom.
“Huh,” Kyla said. “There seems to be plenty from where I’m sitting.”
“Shush,” Stella said. “You’re taken.”
“Yes, but I’m not dead. I can still look.”
“You don’t know him,” Marley said. “I graduated with him, remember? He’s a toad.”
“Owen Taylor,” Frances said, sitting back and crossing her arms over her bedazzled sweatshirt. Frances bedazzled everything. “I remember him now. Marley, didn’t he give you a hard time in high school?”
The truth was, everyone had given her a hard time in high school. She’d been the only girl writing sports copy for the Pirate Ship, their school paper. And to make matters worse, she’d had a painfully awkward way about her. It wasn’t necessarily a surprise that someone like Owen hadn’t been nice to her. Still, when she thought about it, it made her bristle all over again. She remembered a particularly awful day when she’d tripped and fallen in the school parking lot, dropping her books in front of a large group of athletes and upperclassmen. Owen had laughed the loudest, his deep, masculine voice ringing in her ears and egging everyone else on. Never mind that she’d skinned her knees and had tiny bits of gravel embedded in the palms of her hands for a week. But her pride, her heart, had been hurt the most.
“Yes,” she said. “Toad.”
Stella winked at her. “Wow. You really don’t like him.”
“It’s not that I don’t like him...” That was a lie. She couldn’t stand him. “I’m just indifferent, that’s all.”
“But you’re going to be employed by the same team,” Kyla pointed out. “How’s that going to be?”
“It’ll be absolutely fine, because Marley is a professional, aren’t you, honey?” This from Frances, who always had her back.
She smiled. “Thanks, Frances. And honestly, you guys, I’m used to men who think they’re God’s gift. He’s nothing special.” Another whopper. There’d always been something special about Owen Taylor. She’d known it when he’d pass her in the hallways or brush by her when she was standing at her locker. She’d known it when he’d step onto the field, underneath those brilliant stadium lights. She’d known it, and so had everyone else.
“Do you think he’ll make it to the majors?” Stella asked, setting her napkin on her empty plate.
Marley shrugged. “Who knows? He’s talented, but it takes a lot more than talent. If he screwed up that badly in college, it might be hard to shake that reputation. And now he’s past his prime...”
“If your late twenties is past your prime,” Frances said, “what does that make me? Never mind. I don’t want to know.”
Kyla laughed and rubbed Frances’s back. “It makes you fabulous, Frances. You only get better with age.”
“That’s not what my wrinkles say.”
“What wrinkles? You barely have any.” Stella looked at her watch. “And I hate to break up the party, Frances, but we have to be at the shop at dark o’clock in the morning. It’s getting pretty late.”
Frances sighed. “Inventory. I forgot about that.”
“We’ll get it done. And with both of us, it might even be fun. Who knows?”
Frances looked skeptical but pushed her chair out and stood, reaching for her purse.
Stella stood, too, and looked down at Marley and Kyla. “Ready?”
For some reason that she couldn’t quite grasp, Marley didn’t want to leave right then. She cleared her throat and smiled. “I still have a little wine left...”
“Me too,” Kyla said. “It’d be a shame to waste it.”
“Okay, then. Drive safe. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
Frances leaned down and gave them both hugs. And then she and Stella were out the door. Marley could see them through the window running for the car through the light evening rain.
With her pulse skipping, she let her gaze shift back to the man across the pizza parlor.
He was leaning against the counter now, the group that had been surrounding him clearing some. He grinned at something someone said, and two long dimples cut into each cheek. His jaw was scruffy, a shade darker than his shaggy blond hair, and his skin was that same sun-kissed golden brown that she remembered so well. Good Lord, he was gorgeous. He’d always been a good-looking boy, but the years had been especially good to Owen, and now he was simply striking.
She shifted in her seat, suddenly aware that Kyla was looking right at her.
Her cheeks burned. “What?”
“Shopping?”
“Uh...”
“I said we should go. I’ve been wanting to check out that new boutique on Second. They’ve got the cutest things in the window. Do you want to come with me next week or not?”
“Oh, yes. Sure. That sounds great.”
Kyla glanced over her shoulder, then back at Marley with a smile. “You sure do seem distracted.”
“I’m not distracted.”
“Then what did I say before that?”
“Before what?”
“Before asking you to go shopping?”
Marley tucked her long bangs behind her ears, flustered. Kyla had a way of being able to read her mind. It was hard to hide anything from her, always had been.
“Just that you...that...”
“See? Distracted.”
“I’m not.”
“Listen, I don’t blame you. The man is beautiful. It’s hard not to stare.”
“Was I staring?”
“You were definitely looking. Like half the people here.”
“It’s just strange,” Marley said. “That I’m back here after all this time. That he’s back here. And now we’ll be seeing each other every day, and after how it was in high school...”
“You should just go say hello,” Kyla said with a shrug. “Nip it in the bud.”
“What? No way,” she said evenly. Stubbornness. She’d learned it from Frances. “Besides, he probably won’t even remember me, and I’m not a glutton for punishment.”
“But he might, and then you could start fresh.”
Kyla was practical to a fault. And she wasn’t wrong. Going to say hello would be the mature thing to do. After all, they were going to be working for the same organization. The thought made her belly twist. How, exactly, had that happened?
Kyla sat up straight and gave her a look. “He’s headed this way.”
Marley glanced over, and sure enough, he was walking right toward them.
Her toes curled inside her sneakers. No. There was no way he was coming over here. Why would he? What she’d said a minute ago was true—she didn’t think for a second that he’d remember her. They hadn’t run in the same circles in high school. He’d been popular and outgoing. She’d been the quiet introvert, with that ever-present chip on her shoulder. Nope. He was going to walk right on past, and that was just fine with her.
She looked down at her now-empty wineglass, wishing there was more chardonnay left. Wishing she could summon up some confidence of her own. If being in the same room with Owen Taylor was going to have this kind of effect on her, then what would being employed by the same baseball team do? She was so proud to be making history as the Tiger Sharks’ first female announcer. Thrilled to have broken through that glass ceiling. But she wasn’t fooling herself that it’d be easy. She knew she was going to have to prove herself over and over if she wanted to be taken seriously by men like him. She couldn’t and wouldn’t let his all-American good looks unsettle her. She’d come too far for that.
Forcing herself to look up again, she locked eyes with him as he passed. And he did pass, just like she guessed he would.
But he also gave her a wink and a knowing smile.
And that part was a surprise.
Coming back to Christmas Bay was going to have its perks, Owen could tell. Back here, he was a big fish in a small pond, and that didn’t exactly suck. The reception he’d gotten walking into Mario’s hadn’t sucked, either. In fact, it was only reinforcing what he’d already convinced himself of—that climbing his way back up the baseball ladder was going to be much easier on his home turf.
The rest of the world might think of him as a has-been, and maybe he was. But Christmas Bay was going to give him another chance. He was playing on the farm team for the Mariners, and that was a big damn deal. He just hoped he wouldn’t screw it up this time around.
As he walked by the table to his left, he smiled at the pair, enjoying this part. But it was the pretty blonde on the end who caught his eye. She was looking steadily back at him without a hint of the appreciation he was used to getting from everyone else in his orbit.
He winked, and she visibly stiffened. He realized he knew her then, and something stirred inside his chest. A feeling of guilt, maybe. Of regret. Since he’d been home, he’d run into a lot of people from his past. Mostly from old part-time jobs or from high school. And he’d been a jackass in high school. Especially to awkward, defensive girls like Marley Carmichael. He wasn’t proud of it, but he wasn’t proud of a lot of things in his life. He’d just go ahead and add that to the list of disappointments he’d racked up over the years.
The door to the men’s bathroom swung open just as he was reaching for the handle, and nearly hit him square in the face.
“Oh! Sorry, dude,” Max said, stepping out. “I almost knocked you out.”
“It’s okay. I wasn’t paying attention.”
His friend nodded over Owen’s shoulder. “Did you see our new announcer is here?”
“Where?”
“Right there. The table by the window. In the gray.”
Owen turned to look. “The blonde?”
“I saw her with the VP the other day getting a tour of the park. She’s kind of hot, so I asked around. You know.”
Owen smiled. He did know. Max was nothing if not consistent. He played outfield for the Tiger Sharks but was much better at chasing dates than fly balls.
“She was with a team in Iowa,” Max continued. “But I guess she’s from here originally.”
“I know. I went to high school with her.”
“No kidding?”
“I recognized her when I walked past,” Owen said. “Actually, I recognized the go-to-hell look, but whatever.”
“Better make friends, bro. Any tension going into this new season is bad juju, and you need all the luck you can get.”
“Wow. Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
Max shrugged.
Owen turned to her again. The curve of her shoulders, the slight tilt to her chin. He remembered her coming to his games back then, where she’d sit high in the bleachers. She’d written for the school paper, and she’d always carried a ratty notebook under her arm. He remembered her clothes, baggy and nondescript, clothes maybe chosen to make her blend in, but he’d made fun of them anyway. Because that was the kind of idiot he’d been at the time. Mostly, he remembered treating her the way he treated most of the kids who weren’t in his group, like she was beneath him. Some days, he hadn’t even acknowledged her enough to tease. Instead, he’d dismissed her existence altogether, acting like she was invisible.
The thing was, as he watched her push her chair in, he saw that she wasn’t invisible. Her clothes were still underwhelming, but her generous curves sure as hell weren’t.
His chest tightened. No, she wasn’t invisible at all. And that was going to be a big problem for someone who was supposed to be focusing exclusively on baseball.
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