Laurel followed Parker’s gaze and watched Del rearrange the placement of a hamper and a pair of folding chairs. “We haven’t had a fight. It’s kind of nerve-racking.”

“Oh, you’ll get back to that.” Parker patted Laurel’s knee, then rose. “All right, people, this bus is leaving the station. Everyone into their assigned seats.”

Del shut the back door of the van then walked over to take Laurel’s hand. “You get to sit beside me. My sister fixed it.”

“It’s going to be pretty crowded. I might have to sit on your lap.”

He grinned as she climbed in. “We can hope.”

CHAPTER NINE

THANKS TO PARKER’S SCHEDULE THEY ARRIVED EARLY ENOUGH TO claim a good location for what Laurel thought of as their camp. Folding chairs were unfolded, blankets spread, hampers and coolers hauled.

Del tossed a ball glove into Laurel’s lap. “Right field.”

“I always get stuck back in right field,” she complained. “I want to play first base.”

Dating status notwithstanding, he looked at her with pity. “Face it, McBane, you field like a girl. Most of the shots are going to stay in the infield, so I need Parker on first.”

“Parker’s a girl.”

“But she doesn’t field like one.Jack’s got Emma and Mac, Carter’s going to ump so nobody gets hurt. Plus he’ll be fair. We’re filling in the rest with pickups, and some are unknown quantities, so until ... And here comes my ringer.”

Laurel looked over. “You drafted Malcolm Kavanaugh?”

The light of competition sparked in Del’s eyes. “He’s got serious skills, plus it evens things out.”

“The lineups?”

“No.You know, with Parker.”

“Parker?” Shock, then amusement, then her own dose of pity ran over her face. “You got Parker a date? Jesus, Del, she’s going to kill you.”

“Why?” Absently, he tossed a ball from hand to glove, hand to glove. “I’m not asking her to marry him. We’re just hanging out.”

“It’s your funeral.”

“Why?” he asked again. “Does she have some sort of problem with ... Hey, Mal.”

“Hey.” He caught the ball Del tossed him, winged it back. “How’s it going?” he said to Laurel.

“We’re going to find out.”

“Ball game, free food.” Mal, in worn jeans, a white tee, and dark sunglasses used the bat he’d brought with him to pop up a fungo. “Good deal. My mother’s hooked up with your Mrs. Grady and some of them.” He laid the bat on his shoulder. “So, what’s the lineup?”

“I’ve got you on third, batting cleanup.”

“That’ll work.”

“Laurel’s in right field, leading off. Her fielding’s crap, but she’s got a good bat.”

“My fielding is not crap.” She hit Del with the glove. “Keep it up and you’re not going to have any problem winning that bet, Brown.”

When she stalked off, Mal took an easy, testing swing. “What bet?”

Laurel strode straight up to Mac. “I want to switch with you. I want to play on Jack’s team.”

“Baseball slut. Okay by me, but you’d better tell Jack.”

She walked over to where Jack sat on the ground writing his lineup. “I switched with Mac. I’m on your team.”

“Trading the redhead for the blonde. Okay, let me figure ... You’re right field, leading off.”

Son of a bitch. Did he and Del have telepathy? Laurel narrowed her eyes. “Why right field?”

He flicked her a glance, and she saw him reconsider his response. “You’ve got a strong arm.”

She pointed at him. “Good answer.”

“How come you ... ? Hey. Hey, is that Mal? Del hooked Mal?” Jack bared his teeth. “So that’s the way he wants to play the game.”

“Let’s kick his ass.”

Jack rose to slap palms with Laurel. “I won the flip. We’re home team. Let’s take the field.”

She did just fine at right field. And not just because no one hit a ball in her direction, but because she was prepared.

Once they’d bagged three outs, she switched her glove for a bat and faced down Del on the mound.

He winked at her. She snarled back. Then swung hard at thin air as she mistimed the ball. He tried to fool her with a pitch that hung low and outside, but she held her ground. She caught the third with enough meat on the bat for a solid base hit. When she held up at first, she tossed her batting helmet aside.

“Del called Mal in to balance things out for you.”

“What?” Beside the bag, Parker straightened out of her waiting crouch. “Are you kidding me? Like some sort of pity date?”

“That, and Mal’s good at the game. I thought you’d want to know”

“Damn right.” Parker sent a scorching look toward the mound as Del wound up for the pitch. “He’s so going to pay.”

By the fourth inning Del had them five to three. He’d been right about Malcolm, Laurel had to admit. Serious skills. He held second now on a strong leadoff double, and the strikeout behind him brought Del to the plate. Cheers and calls went up from team-mates and the audience that had gathered. Laurel watched Del set, and Jack shake off the first suggestion from the twelve-year-old catcher.

He went with a fastball. Or she thought it was, as it looked fast to her. It looked even faster when Del’s bat smacked it and the ball winged into the air. In her direction.

“Shit. Oh, shit.”

She heard someone yelling—maybe it was her—as she raced back to meet the path of the ball, but her heart pounded so hard in her ears she couldn’t tell.

She lifted her glove and prayed.

When the ball slapped into it, no one was more surprised than she was. She shot up ball and glove to acknowledge the cheers from the crowd. And saw Mal had already tagged up and was charging third. She threw the ball to Emma’s waving hands. Her throw, while hard and fairly true, hit Emma’s glove one wild slide too late.

Jubilation to disgust, she thought, in less than five seconds.

Baseball sucked.

“Good catch, Laurel.”

“Don’t patronize me, Jack,” she muttered when they got out of the inning with Mal stranded on third.