Timber Creek (Sierra Falls 2)

Finally she stopped and sat. “I wish you wouldn’t. ”

“No chasing, huh?” He cracked a grin. “I’ll do whatever you say. Just give me that smile. ”

What she flashed him was more a teeth-baring than a genuine smile.

He laughed. “Bigger,” he insisted, and she tried to glare, but he saw it wavering.

“I’ll smile as big as you want if you tell me you’re stopping your stupid Fairview project. ”

He sighed. “You know I can’t do that. ” He plopped next to her and scooted close.

She scooted away. “What are you doing?”

“Sitting,” he said with a smile.

She gestured to the field. “Just go play your game, why don’t you?”

“Seems like you’re the one playing games. ” An idea hit him, and before she could snap back, he said, “Funny you should mention playing. ” He peered at her feet. “Because I see you’ve got your running shoes on. ”

“And?”

His brother Scott shouted at him from the field. “You ask her?”

She inched farther away, looking wary. “Is he talking about me?”

“You’re all I talk about. ”

She rolled her eyes. “Spare me. ”

He watched her, waiting for her to look back at him. He was a patient man.

Finally she gave him a tentative glance. “Okay, what?”

“We need another player. ” He wasn’t lying—they were short a man. Or rather, short a woman. The league had rules about how many women and men there were per team, and Rob Haskell wasn’t the only person who’d bailed on the game; a couple of girls from his nephew’s high school had skipped out as well.

Her eyes widened. “You’re not asking me to play. ”

“That’s exactly what I’m doing. ”

“I’m not on the team. ”

His team had all assembled on the bench below, and they were clearly growing antsy. Shielding his eyes from the sun, Mike Haskell found him and shouted, “C’mon, Jessup. Batter up!”

He glanced at Laura, amused by her look of terror. “Whaddya think?”

She was staring at the field, aghast. “You want me to play softball?” She gave him an incredulous look. “That’s a horrible idea. ”

“It’s an inspired idea. Just think, you can work out all your anger on the field. ”

“Anger. ” She huffed. “You’re the reason I’m angry. ”

“Then you can show me what-for on the field. ”

“I haven’t played softball since eighth grade. ”

“Good. Then you’ll be like a fresh lump of clay. ” He couldn’t stop himself from wrapping his arm around her shoulders to give her a squeeze. “All the better to mold you. ”

She flinched away. “You are not molding me, Eddie Jessup. Why don’t you ask Sorrow?”