Alongside the muddled memories of her mother were the celebrations. It didn’t matter what city they were in over Independence Day; there was always something for a child to do. When she was young, she’d find a friend and they’d share cotton candy and giggles. As she got older, friends were harder to come by, but boys grew more interested. She’d had more than one kiss under the fireworks, happy to be someone’s somebody special for the occasion.
Looking back, the stolen moments were hollow. What was a kiss if there wasn’t love behind it? She’d become much more selective since then about who she shared her lips with on any occasion.
Which meant she hadn’t kissed a guy in a while.
Which would explain why—on the Fourth of July—she found herself thinking about Dustin’s lips.
Which was ridiculous, because the guy was in Cincinnati, and she was stuck at the front desk making sure the guests who’d had too much to drink didn’t smash a hole in the big-screen television. Even though it was different guests each year, somehow, someone managed to put the television in jeopardy. She considered leaving it off in hopes that no one would notice it if the screen was dark, but she wanted to watch the Redrocks game.
Brayden hadn’t pitched in a couple games, and she wondered if Dustin’s friend had done something wrong. The starting pitchers always looked angry when they were taken out of a game. But then, there was a different starting pitcher each game, so they could take turns. She’d have to ask Dustin.Ifshe ever saw him again. He may be a jerk, but he was the only link to baseball she had, and she was falling in love with the sport. There was something poetic about the game that spoke to her.
She flipped the television on and found the baseball station with the commentators who were fast becoming her mentors. As they made their way through the pregame show, she rearranged the furniture in the lobby to create an alleyway for guests that would keep them far away from the screen. If the television was damaged, she’d lose the chance to watch games at work.
Once done, she brushed off her hands and smiled. She may not be getting kissed tonight, but her romance with baseball was just beginning.
The camera panned over the team, and her breath hitched at seeing the number 26 on Dustin’s jersey. He wasn’t facing the field, but was talking to one of the coaches. Fireworks exploded inside her chest. Not the big ones that fill the night sky with color, but a smaller fountain that popped and sizzled. She shook out her arms and then allowed herself to appreciate the way Dustin looked in his uniform. He wore the knicker-like pants with the long socks. She liked that he chose those pants instead of the long ones. He looked more like a player from the past, and baseball’s history was as romantic as any paperback novel she’d read.
They cut to the bullpen. She squinted, trying to make out Brayden. He was harder to find because she didn’t know his number. He was standing in the corner, talking to the catcher who never got to play in the game.
The desk phone rang, pulling her away from the screen and her admiration of the players. “Stick to admiring the game,” she told herself as she rounded the desk. “He’s not what you want him to be.”
With that, she started her shift and did her best to keep thoughts of Dustin Colt and fireworks far away.
Chapter Twelve
“We’ve got a new donor.”
“Who?” asked Clover as she kicked her feet up on the small stool next to Jane’s desk. Kids used the stool to get into Jane’s candy jar.
Jane spent a good portion of her workday fundraising. Clover could never do that part of the job, and she was grateful Jane was willing and able to bring in the funds that kept The Pantry running. She didn’t have to keep Clover up to date on the financial side of things, but when something went right, she liked to celebrate with her only employee.
They were celebrating now, sharing a bag of chocolate-covered pretzels in Jane’s office. The wall behind Jane’s chair was covered in multicolored sticky notes. Clover didn’t even try to make sense of Jane’s organization system. There were at least three levels of color coding going on over there.
“Dustin Colt.” Jane lifted her arms and wiggled her backside, making her rolling chair go side to side. “I finished going the rounds with his agent.”
“Going the rounds?”
“Dustin wants to promote his involvement with The Pantry on social media, and we needed to hash out the legal aspects. They should be here soon to set up a photo shoot.” She lifted both palms in the air. “It will be an inconvenience today, but I’m happy to say we’re going to be able to feed a lot more families this winter because of his donations. If we can get another big sponsor or two, we might even be able to expand.”
Clover folded her arms.
“Why the grumpy face?” Jane giggled at her own joke. She tossed back another chocolate pretzel and smiled.
Clover worked to put her feelings into words. Honestly, so many emotions vied for attention when she thought of Dustin that she hardly knew where to start. “This is a good thing for a lot of people.”
“Buuuuuut,” Jane prompted.
“But I don’t like him using The Pantry to improve his image.”
Jane got to her feet and came around the desk. “This is how the world works. It’s not always pretty.” She placed an arm over Clover’s shoulders. “You’re assuming he’s only doing this for personal gain.”
“I’m calling it like I see it.”
She shook her head. “But are you seeing the whole picture?”
“I—” Clover paused. After several years living and then working with Jane, she knew better than to assume she knew the woman’s innermost thoughts. Jane wasn’t one to drill her ideas or beliefs into another’s head. She had sound advice, and when Clover followed it, her life was better. So, she put the lid on her mason jar of protests and prejudices against Dustin and waited for Jane to continue.
Jane squeezed Clover against her side. “I’m afraid you do this a lot, believe the worst in people until they prove you wrong.”
