run.
He eyed the pitcher, trying to read his behavior. Thinking back to his pattern, he expected a low pitch, then a high, before coming home for a strike. Ian took his place and readied his stance.
The ball shot forward.
“Strike one.”
Strike? He narrowed his eyes, taking in the pitcher. The guy had fooled him. He’d be ready next time.
The ball sailed toward him. With assurance he swung and missed.
“Strike two.”
His confidence sinking into the ground, Ian faced the pitcher. He took a calming breath, then lifted the bat.
The ball came at him straight and slow. Ian timed his swing, and as the ball dropped into place, he thrust the bat forward, heard the thwack and headed for first.
“Out.”
He skidded to a halt and looked at the pitcher holding his pop-up.
With his head hanging, Ian strode back to the team and studied Esther as she marched forward. She’d said she hated to lose, and even though this was only a sandlot game, he hated defeat, too.
Esther had turned her cap around, the bill low on her forehead. With the bat dangling at her side, she stood a moment facing the mound, like a judge weighing the sentence.
With calculated motion she lifted the bat, her fingers wrapping around the wood. She adjusted her stance and waited.
Not to be buffaloed, the pitcher followed her precision moves. He adjusted his cap, settled his feet in the dirt and paused, the ball resting in his mitt. In a flash of motion he pulled back, and with the snap of his wrist the ball headed for Esther. Her body responded to the action, and her bat plowed forward, smacking the ball in a line drive to center field.
Esther flung the bat aside, raced around the basesand crossed home plate behind the runner from second base, who had scored the winning run.
Ian dashed forward, catching Esther in his arms, but this time as if prepared, she paused, tilting her head upward, and captured his gaze. With her look so direct, he froze, unable to lower his mouth to hers.
“Great game,” he muttered.
“You, too. Thanks.” She slid from his arms.
Irritated with his ineptness, Ian grabbed his mitt from the ground and tossed it into the equipment box. He followed behind, joining the team with hugs and laughter, celebrating their win.
But Ian’s focus was on Esther. Her gaze drifted to him, then turned away. Had he seen disappointment in her face?
“We’re pretty good,” Jeff said, his arm around Rachel.
“Esther, you were royal,” Rachel said.
Ian slipped his arm around Esther’s shoulders and drew her to his side. “She was, wasn’t she?”
“I just hate to lose,” Esther said.
With Jeff and Rachel observing their every move, Ian took advantage. He grasped his courage and lowered his mouth to Esther’s, this time in a kiss that lingered.
When he eased back, Esther’s eyes remained closed, and he sensed she’d enjoyed every second of it. Her lids fluttered, then opened, and his heart soared with the look he saw in her eyes.
“We have to talk,” she whispered.
He nodded, excited that he’d finally be able to tell her the truth.
Chapter Nine
E sther stared into the dusk through her window, confused and unsettled. She’d tried to talk with Ian after the picnic, but she’d blundered and ended up saying the opposite of what she meant—so she’d given up.
Either she had to learn to enjoy their friendship without any expectations or end it. Living alone so long, she’d become stubborn and controlling. When something didn’t fall into her pattern, her approved system, she pushed it away.
Years ago she’d realized she pushed people away before they had a chance to do the same to her…so she could feel in charge. But for once in her life, she didn’t want to push away anyone, and that anyone was Ian. He made her laugh and gave her life a different purpose besides helping library patrons find the references they needed.
Locating books and information once had given her a feeling of contentment and her life
He eyed the pitcher, trying to read his behavior. Thinking back to his pattern, he expected a low pitch, then a high, before coming home for a strike. Ian took his place and readied his stance.
The ball shot forward.
“Strike one.”
Strike? He narrowed his eyes, taking in the pitcher. The guy had fooled him. He’d be ready next time.
The ball sailed toward him. With assurance he swung and missed.
“Strike two.”
His confidence sinking into the ground, Ian faced the pitcher. He took a calming breath, then lifted the bat.
The ball came at him straight and slow. Ian timed his swing, and as the ball dropped into place, he thrust the bat forward, heard the thwack and headed for first.
“Out.”
He skidded to a halt and looked at the pitcher holding his pop-up.
With his head hanging, Ian strode back to the team and studied Esther as she marched forward. She’d said she hated to lose, and even though this was only a sandlot game, he hated defeat, too.
Esther had turned her cap around, the bill low on her forehead. With the bat dangling at her side, she stood a moment facing the mound, like a judge weighing the sentence.
With calculated motion she lifted the bat, her fingers wrapping around the wood. She adjusted her stance and waited.
Not to be buffaloed, the pitcher followed her precision moves. He adjusted his cap, settled his feet in the dirt and paused, the ball resting in his mitt. In a flash of motion he pulled back, and with the snap of his wrist the ball headed for Esther. Her body responded to the action, and her bat plowed forward, smacking the ball in a line drive to center field.
Esther flung the bat aside, raced around the basesand crossed home plate behind the runner from second base, who had scored the winning run.
Ian dashed forward, catching Esther in his arms, but this time as if prepared, she paused, tilting her head upward, and captured his gaze. With her look so direct, he froze, unable to lower his mouth to hers.
“Great game,” he muttered.
“You, too. Thanks.” She slid from his arms.
Irritated with his ineptness, Ian grabbed his mitt from the ground and tossed it into the equipment box. He followed behind, joining the team with hugs and laughter, celebrating their win.
But Ian’s focus was on Esther. Her gaze drifted to him, then turned away. Had he seen disappointment in her face?
“We’re pretty good,” Jeff said, his arm around Rachel.
“Esther, you were royal,” Rachel said.
Ian slipped his arm around Esther’s shoulders and drew her to his side. “She was, wasn’t she?”
“I just hate to lose,” Esther said.
With Jeff and Rachel observing their every move, Ian took advantage. He grasped his courage and lowered his mouth to Esther’s, this time in a kiss that lingered.
When he eased back, Esther’s eyes remained closed, and he sensed she’d enjoyed every second of it. Her lids fluttered, then opened, and his heart soared with the look he saw in her eyes.
“We have to talk,” she whispered.
He nodded, excited that he’d finally be able to tell her the truth.
Chapter Nine
E sther stared into the dusk through her window, confused and unsettled. She’d tried to talk with Ian after the picnic, but she’d blundered and ended up saying the opposite of what she meant—so she’d given up.
Either she had to learn to enjoy their friendship without any expectations or end it. Living alone so long, she’d become stubborn and controlling. When something didn’t fall into her pattern, her approved system, she pushed it away.
Years ago she’d realized she pushed people away before they had a chance to do the same to her…so she could feel in charge. But for once in her life, she didn’t want to push away anyone, and that anyone was Ian. He made her laugh and gave her life a different purpose besides helping library patrons find the references they needed.
Locating books and information once had given her a feeling of contentment and her life
Similar Books
