Chapter 7
“Stavors likes to swing left, so get ready, Davis.” Burke, Tai’s teammate, warned as a man with the build of a steam train stepped up to home plate, a metal bat resting on his shoulder.
Tai bent at the knees, his fingers flexing in his leather glove. The sun warmed his back, and the scent of fresh-cut grass attested to the beginning of spring, as did the hints of blue along the fence line where the landscapers missed Weedwacking the first crocuses of the year.
Dalton Matthews wound up on the mound, brought his arm behind his head, then let the ball fly from his hand like David’s stone from a slingshot. Hopefully his fastball would make the Goliath of a batter fall after three strikes.
Stavors swung.
Crack!
The ball lifted into the sky like a rocket. To the left, just as Burke predicted. Tai squinted, thankful the sun was behind him, and calculated the trajectory.
“I got it!” he called as he sprinted backward, afraid that the left fielder would collide with him and they’d lose an easy play. He brought his glove up, cradled his other hand behind the worn leather, and closed his glove around the catch.
His teammates whooped as they jogged to the dugout. That made the third out. They were now heading into the ninth and last inning. It would be nice if they could add a few more runs to the scoreboard, but as long as they didn’t allow the other team any, they’d still win the game.
A couple of his teammates slapped him on the back as they passed him to take a seat at the long bench under the lean-to that served as the dugout. He grabbed his water bottle and squirted a long spray into his mouth.
“Okay, Burke, you’re up first. Matthews, you’re on deck.” Pepé was the team’s unofficial manager, coach, and captain. Really, he was the one who filled out the paperwork and submitted it to the county. Plus, he really liked a clipboard.
A sharp whistle came from the bleachers as Burke walked out onto the field. His wife never missed a game and had the enthusiasm of a Little League mom.
Tai scanned the risers behind home plate.
Sure enough, a petite woman decked out in their team colors stood from the top, waving a pair of pom-poms in the air.
A familiar bent head caught his attention.
If Tai hadn’t recognized her by the hair that had captivated his curiosity more than he cared to admit, then the T-shirt sporting a Brachiosaurus carrying a huge tower of books the height of its long neck would pinpoint her identity in a second.
What was Evangeline doing at the game?
A stack of papers rested on top of her thighs, and in one of her hands were three highlighters of different colors. She riffled through the papers, pulling one out and setting it on top. With her teeth, she uncapped one of the highlighters, then made some marks on the paper.
She appeared to be studying something, but why study at a baseball game?
Her head lifted, and her gaze settled on Dalton in the on-deck circle, who was taking a few warm-up swings.
She thumbed through her papers again and pulled out another sheaf, settling this one beside the first. Her eyes moved between the two, and she traded her highlighter for a pen, then made a few notes in the margins.
Tai looked at Dalton, trying to figure out what in the world Evangeline was up to and what it had to do with the town’s chainsaw sculptor.
The most obvious answer would be that she was romantically interested in the man, but what woman appeared to be studying for a test when watching the guy she liked at a sporting event?
Unless she knew nothing of baseball and the papers she poured over were the rules and regulations of the game? It was a possibility.
But for some reason, that answer didn’t sit right with Tai.
The crack of connection between bat and ball rent the air a second before Burke’s wife’s screams of enthusiasm did. The bat clattered to the ground, and Burke took off to first base, a cloud of red dust behind his cleats.
Evangeline looked up again from her papers, but her focus wasn’t on the game. She was still peering at Dalton. Scrutinizing him, more like.
So, yeah, her presence had nothing to do with the game.
She’d proven herself a bit of a stalker (and a bad one, at that) in her overzealous crusade to protect all things published. Was she there to present Dalton with some type of summons or fine on behalf of the library?
Again, a theory that seemed highly unlikely—not that Tai wouldn’t put it past her to attempt such a thing. She sure had appeared to be ready to read him his Miranda rights when he’d dared to open a book anywhere near the vicinity of marinara sauce.
Dalton walked toward home plate while Rickers moved from the dugout to the on-deck circle.
Tai looked back at Evangeline. She was nibbling on the capped end of her pen, deep in thought.
Nothing at first glance would give anyone the idea that the woman was mysterious.
Yet here he was again, trying to figure her out.
A gust of wind picked up, causing a swirl of dust on the baseball diamond but wreaking even more havoc in the stands.
Evangeline’s neat pile of papers on her lap decided it was a perfect time to make a break for it.
With the gusto of a classroom of kids being let out for recess, the papers flew in every direction, cackling with laughter in the breeze as Evangeline made futile swipes to bring them back under control.
Tai’s turn in the batting rotation was pretty far down the list. Pepé might not even call his name before it was time to go back out and play third base.
“I’ll be right back,” he said to no one in particular before jogging out the side entrance of the dugout toward the grassy section between the fence and the parking lot.
One of Evangeline’s papers rolled like a tumbleweed across the short blades of grass.
He bent down and picked it up. Another rode the wind like a magic carpet, it’s getaway coming to an abrupt halt when it collided with his chest. He peeled the paper off the T-shirt the county distributed as jerseys.
Evangeline was scrambling to retrieve her wayward pages. Her apologies as she climbed over legs and tried to keep from stumbling into the other spectators reached him even from this distance. Two more of her papers were being pressed into the fence behind home plate as if by gunpoint.
He’d help her get the rest. But not before he snuck a peek.
Glancing down, he quickly scanned the printout.
His brows pulled together over his eyes.
He was holding a copy of Dalton’s library check-out history in one hand and Stacey Lawerence’s in the other.
A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens had been highlighted in red on both papers, which Tai could understand, but then This Road We Traveled by Jane Kirkpatrick was highlighted in yellow on Stacey’s history while Back to Basics: A Complete Guide to Traditional Skills was highlighted in the same color on Dalton’s.
Tai had no idea what those particular books had to do with the other.
His gaze flicked up. Evangeline was collecting the runaway papers pressed along the fence. He had a few more seconds. Looking back down, he squinted to read the tiny handwriting on the side.
Similar interests:
Classics
Love of Christmas
Simple living/pioneering
What in the world was the woman up to?
The papers were snatched from his hands with such force that the corner he held with his right thumb and forefinger remained in his grip, a ripped edge attesting to how much Evangeline didn’t want him snooping.
From the look in her eye, she’d like to take a similar bite out of him.
Tai rocked back on his heels and gave her a lopsided grin in hope of disarming her. He didn’t necessarily want to defuse the situation entirely since he kind of liked the spark in her eye. Even if (or especially if?) said spark was directed at him. “Hello, Miss Marian.”
Evangeline took in a long breath through her nose, visibly trying to compose herself. “You know that is not my name.”
He took a half step forward and bent his head toward her as if imparting a secret. The faint scent of books and ink mixed with a delicate femininity filled his nostrils. “It’s something people like to call a nickname.”
Their faces were close, and he could see her throat work as she swallowed, but she didn’t take a step back.
She did, however, hold her papers a bit closer to her chest. “No one calls me by a nickname.”
Tai paused. He liked her name. It fit her. But it was also a mouthful. He couldn’t imagine it had never been shortened before. “No one?”
“No one.” She said the two words with finality.
Well, that settled that. Everyone needed a nickname at some point in their life. “I can’t say I’ve ever been called a no one before, but today’s as good a day as any.”
While her lips pressed into a firm line, his curved even more. “But if you’re going to get your first nickname, maybe we should ease into it a bit more. Something a little closer to what’s on your birth certificate.”
She sputtered. “Mr. Davis, I hardly think—”
“Tai, if you please. Even southern manners will allow you to use my first name.” He plowed on when she opened her mouth to protest, tapping his chin as if giving his words a great deal of thought. “Now, see, Tai can’t really be shortened since it’s already one syllable—”
She mumbled something under her breath.
“What was that?”
She sighed. “I just said, it could be shortened to the first letter of your name. People could call you T.”
“Now you’re getting it.” He grinned at her in encouragement, then had to bite the tip of his tongue to keep from laughing when she rolled her eyes. “But back to you. You have a name that is practically begging to be shortened.”
Her gaze skittered away for a brief moment. “My mother gave me the name Evangeline.”
“Well, I didn’t think it was bestowed upon you by Rumpelstiltskin.”
She let out a disgruntled sound at the back of her throat.
Which he ignored. “We’ve established no one has given you a nickname. We’ve established I am no one. We’ve established what your mother calls you. What we haven’t established is what I will call you.”
“Mr. Davis—”
“You know, the more you say my name that way, the more I like it.” Tai let his voice take on a husky, seductive tone.
Evangeline’s face mottled.
Tai swallowed his laugh.
“Tai—”
“That’s good too,” he practically purred.
He had no idea where this flirtatious nonsense was coming from, and he was sure his mom would box his ears if she overheard how he was behaving at the moment, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself.
He was quickly becoming addicted to seeing the effect he had on the woman.
“My name on your lips is like hearing it for the very first time.”
Evangeline blinked at him, her mouth agape.
He winked at her for good measure. “But back to the topic at hand. A nickname for you.” He studied her.
She studied him right back, an almost-challenge in her eyes. It was probably only manners that kept her from turning on her heel and storming off. But whatever kept her standing in front of him, he was enjoying every minute of their exchange.
After another moment, the perfect name came to him. The muscles in his face softened. “Angel,” he breathed. “Because I can’t imagine anything in heaven could be lovelier than you.”
She flushed and looked away. “While this has been highly . . . enlightening, I must be going.” She rushed past him, her head down, cheeks pink, and muttering to herself in a low but strident tone.
He watched her go with a grin, then turned back to the dugout, only just remembering he’d never asked her what in the world she was doing with those library check-out histories in the first place.