“Can we talk for a second?” Sweet and

seductive, her voice purrs over my skin and I’m absolutely hypnotized. The girl must be a magician.

“Sure.” I wait for Chris to remember that he needs to go after his own girl, but he’s too busy admiring Beth’s ass to notice that Beth and I want him to leave. I give the blatant reminder.

“Lacy needs you.”

“Yeah,” says Chris like he’s waking from a dream. “Lacy. See you later, dawg. You too, Beth.”

She drums her fingers against her thigh as a dismissal. Chris wanders into the building while I try to understand Beth’s attitude switch.

Yesterday, the girl would have been the main suspect in my murder. This morning, she’s hot and friendly. Talk about mood swings.

Guilt becomes a whisper in my brain. I

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humiliated her at school. Time to make

amends. “Yesterday, in gym—”

“Whatever.” Beth cuts me off. “I was

thinking that you’re right. I should make friends and I’d really like you to be the one to help me.”

Can.

I suppress the smile edging onto my face.

No need to rub it in. Why couldn’t Lacy be here to see this? “You’ll go with me to the party on Friday?”

“Yes, but there’s a catch.”

“What type of catch?” I should be focusing more on the word catch, but I can’t when Beth nibbles on her bottom lip. I love those lips.

“My uncle is a little control-freakish and he’ll want to talk to you.”

This day keeps getting better. I win the dare and I get to talk to my hero. Plus, I get to spend time with Beth. Maybe Lacy’s right. Maybe there is more to her. “Sure. I can come by early on Friday.”

Beth readjusts the pack hanging on her

shoulder. “Actually, I was wondering if you could come over tonight and meet him. Maybe we could hang out after.”

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I love my life. The girl is asking me out.

“Yeah, sure.” Damn. My mind becomes chaos as I remember my plans. “Wait. I would love to, but I have ball practice with the team and then pitch practice in Louisville tonight.”

She lowers her head. “Oh. Okay, I guess. If you can’t, you can’t, but tonight’s the only night Scott’s going to be home.”

I am not blowing off this change of heart. If she’s anything like Lacy, she could have a total mood reversal in three minutes. “I can come over after ball and meet your uncle and then you could ride with me into Louisville. We could go out to eat after practice. That is, if you’re okay with sitting through an hour of me pitching.”

She raises her head and flashes this glorious smile. “If you don’t mind.”

Mind? I can’t think of anything I want more.

I just won the dare.

STANDING ON SCOTT RISK’S front porch, I

yank the bill of my baseball hat and wipe my hands on my athletic pants. This is it. I’m about to walk into my hero’s home. Two

knocks and the door swings open. Staring back at me, wearing jeans and a T-shirt, is Scott HC TITLE-AUTHOR

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Risk.

“Good afternoon, Ryan.” His eyebrows rise to give the impression he’s surprised.

“Good afternoon.” I rub the back of my head when the tension starts to form in my neck. “Is, uh, Beth here?”

An easy grin spreads across his face. “She’d better be, but I did just piss her off. It might not be a bad idea to check to see if she snuck out the window.”

Having no idea what to say back, I shove my hands in my pockets. He laughs. “Elisabeth and I don’t work well together on her

homework. Come on in. She said you two

made plans, but I have to admit I was

wondering if she was messing with me.”

“Is she ready, Mr. Risk?” Amazed and

starstruck, I walk in. This place is huge.

“Call me Scott,” he says, then hollers,

“Elisabeth!”

Something hard smacks the door to our

right. “Fuck you!”

I sigh heavily and a knot forms between my shoulder blades. The pendulum swings on the mood spectrum. Guess we’re back to crazy.

Can’t wait to see what Friday night will bring.

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“You have company!”

Silence. The door squeaks as it slowly

opens.

“Hello, Ryan.” Beth rests her hip against the door frame and my heart stutters. She changed from the T-shirt to a black tank top, exposing a hint of beautiful cleavage. “See. I told you he stares.”

Damn. I do. And I did it right in front of Scott Risk.

Scott claps my back. “It’s okay. But try not to stare too hard in front of me. At some point I’ll stop finding it amusing and might have to kick your ass. And Elisabeth? Fuck isn’t allowed.”

She shrugs, clearly not caring what’s

allowed.

“Get yourself together,” Scott says to Beth.

“I’m going to talk to Ryan for a bit, then you can go.”

Beth glances at her clothes. “I am together.”

“I see skin. Lots of it. Come back out when there is less skin.”

She sighs and does this slow pivot. As she walks into her room her hips have this easy sway that makes me stare—once again.

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“I received something yesterday that

you’ll appreciate.” Scott crosses the foyer to the room opposite Beth’s and motions for me to follow.

The moment I enter the large office I’m in awe. Baseball. Everywhere. Jerseys in glass frames. Balls. Bats. Cards in display cases.

Scott pulls out a see-through box and hands it to me. My mouth gapes. “Babe Ruth. You have a baseball signed by Babe Ruth?”

“Yes.” Scott flashes a smile, the kind I

understand; this office is hallowed ground. The phone on his large mahogany desk rings. “Give me a sec.”

I start to head out when Scott stops me.

“Stay. This won’t take long.”

I love this man. I could spend hours in this office drooling over his stuff. Speaking in correct grammar and a business voice, Scott chats on the phone. I hover over a bat signed by Nolan Ryan. This could be my office

someday. Hell no. This will be me.

Across the room is a table of framed

pictures. Scott and Pete Rose. Scott and Albert Pujols. The picture frames are angled slightly toward the center of the table. Each person in HC TITLE-AUTHOR

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the frame more important than the last.

When I get to the middle, I see a wedding picture of Scott and his wife and my respect for the man grows. He values his family.

I frown when I spot the small 4

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photograph. It’s of a child and Scott. At least I think it’s Scott. I pick it up. He’s young and looks dorky wearing the old-school version of the Bullitt County High baseball uniform. He holds a girl. Barely out of toddler years. Maybe five. Entwined and pinned everywhere in her long blond hair are pink ribbons. The white fluffy dress makes her look like a princess. She has her arms squeezed tight around Scott’s neck. Her smile is contagious and her eyes are the deep blue of an ocean, almost exactly like…

“Elisabeth loved ribbons,” Scott says behind me. “Bought them for her every chance I

could.”

No way. “This is Beth?”

He takes the frame from me and gently

places it back as the very center picture on the table. “Yes.”

He says it with the heaviness of a man

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a far cry from the happy child in that photo.

Scott’s lighthearted tone returns. “I picked Allison up from a dinner last night and ran into your mom. She said you finaled in a state writing competition.”

My eyes flicker away. Dad must love that

everyone in town now knows. “Yeah.”

“Your dad said you’re bent on going pro out of school, but there are a lot of colleges that would die to have a pitcher with your potential.

Especially if you have academic talent.”