“Have fun being eight years old today,” she teased.
“Always. Hashtag blessed.”
There was a pause.
“What?” he asked, wondering if they’d been disconnected. The staircase wasn’t exactly cell friendly, but he hadn’t lost a signal before. His steps slowed.
“When I’m with you, I feel overly blessed. Like—”
“Like it’s almost too much,” he finished for her.
“Yeah,” she breathed.
He knew exactly how she felt, like what they had between them was fragile. One wrong move and it would shatter around them. “Clover, life isn’t always like this. The feeling will run out eventually. I want to hold on to it as long as we can.”
“Me too.”
He shoved the door opened and raised a hand to shield his eyes from the sun. “Call me when you get off work?”
“Yep.”
The sound of automatic doors opening whooshed through the phone, and he knew she had to go. They said goodbye and hung up. Disconnecting the phone was as much a physical experience as it was an emotional one.
Pregame went fine. St. Louis had decent facilities for visiting teams. They didn’t get batting practice in today, which meant they’d hit after the game. That put a damper on answering Clover’s call. Hopefully she’d still be awake when he dragged himself into the hotel room. Funny that all the late nights he’d spent with her, sharing French toast after midnight, hadn’t worn on him like the idea of staying at the stadium until all hours did.
The stadium filled to three-quarters capacity. Not bad for a weekday evening. They needed a fan base like this in St. George.
Walking up to the plate for his first at bat, Dustin couldn’t help but wonder if Clover was watching. He wanted her to see him do well, wanted to share this moment with her.
He rubbed his gloves together, gripped the bat, then re-gripped it. The first two pitches were balls—outside and laughable. The pitcher squinted at the catcher to get the sign and laid one low, right over the plate. Dustin watched it fly by and stepped out of the box with a curse.
Caught looking. That sucked!
He stepped his right foot in the box. Man, that was his pitch. He wasn’t going to see another one of those at bat, and he’d missed it. He dragged his left foot into place, signaling to the ump that he was ready to bat, and loading his swing. The next pitch was on the outside edge of the plate, and he fouled it off.
So, two balls way outside, the golden pitch that he missed, and then shaving the outside edge. The next one would be inside. A ball. He loaded and waited for the pitch. The pitcher walked around the mound before scraping his foot against the wood. He executed his windup in record time and sent a fastball right down the middle.
“Strike three!” called the ump.
Dustin barely resisted throwing his bat against the fence. There was no excuse for a miscalculation like that. He’d decided not to swing before he’d even seen the pitch. The batboy took his bat, and he stripped off his gloves, throwing them against the wall. Brayden looked at him out of the corner of his eye but wisely chose not to comment.
The only thing that kept Dustin from losing it was the thought of Clover seeing him throw a tantrum. Cameras were all over the field and the dugout. She’d teased him about being a kid—good-naturedly now that they were no longer at one another’s throats. He didn’t want to give her any ammunition, nor did he want her to think less of him.
He settled onto the bench, as far away from Gary Betts, his backup, as he could. He didn’t need the reminder that he could be the one warming the bench during every game. The wordslumpfollowed him around like toilet paper stuck to his cleat that he couldn’t shake off. Everyone could see it there, and he hated it.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The next day, Clover hurried into The Pantry, still feeling the rush of Dustin. This was her first day back since her week off. She’d had to swap her evening shifts with the day workers to make it all work out, which meant she hadn’t been in The Pantry for five days straight. As much fun as she had during her time off, she missed being a part of things.
She’d tried to call Dustin after work, but he didn’t pick up. Sometime in the middle of her REM cycle, he’d texted that they had stayed late for batting practice and he’d call if he got the chance today. She patted her phone in her back pocket, ready to answer at any moment even if she was in the middle of work. Jane had never been a hardnose about personal phone calls. Not that Clover had given her a reason to be. She’d have to watch herself to make sure she wasn’t taking advantage of Jane’s kindnesses.
She’d teased Dustin pretty hard when he’d asked her out. He gave as good as he got, though. Had he been in town, he would have tickled her side, she would have squealed, and they’d end up kissing for hours.
Man, she missed him!
The way she felt about Dustin inspired her for the weekly pep talk with Serena, which was sure to happen today because she hadn’t seen her for a while. Serena was smart and beautiful; she deserved a man who made her feel fascinating. Clover grabbed an apron and checked the calendar for tonight’s menu. Sloppy joes—she could make those with her eyes shut, which was great because it freed up her brain to think about Dustin.
Quietly humming as she worked, she lost herself in the tasks of chopping onions and green peppers. She didn’t look up until Jane breezed through the door.
