She knew what they had was only temporary, and she was living in a fantasy world with him right now. Logically she knew it, anyway. They weren’t going to stay together for so many different reasons, the least of which was both of their careers.
She swept her hand across his jaw, always a turn-on to caress the rough beard there. She shuddered and pushed aside the temporariness of their relationship. For now, he was hers, and she’d have him for as long as she could. And when it came time to walk away, she would. Because her career came first, just like his did. They were both adults, and they could handle this.
She could handle this.
Right now, she only wanted Garrett, only wanted to concentrate on his body moving over hers, inside her, and on the way he made her feel. She sparked so fast with him, and like it or not, she was different when she was with him. He brought out so much passion in her, made her feel so free.
And as he clasped his hand with hers and they went over the edge together, she knew what she’d always known.
He was something amazing. Undeniably special. And he made her feel special.
And she was in love with him.
Which was going to make that whole walking-away-at-the-end-of-all-this thing really damned difficult.
TWENTY-THREE
GARRETT APPROACHED THE TRIP BACK HOME TO ST. Louis with both excitement and bone-shaking terror.
Spring training had ended, and while he’d gotten in some work with the team and he knew he’d made significant progress, he’d pitched no games. In the back of his mind, he’d thought maybe he’d be strong enough to pitch before the end of spring training.
Alicia had made no promises to him and in fact told him it likely wouldn’t happen, but she’d do her best to get him ready so he could pitch in the regular season.
He’d made a mental note that she hadn’t said she’d have him ready by the start of the season. He refused to remind her that when they very first started working together, she’d told him she’d have him on the mound by the start of the season. He’d considered it a promise at the time.
He’d believed her, and she’d gotten him further along than he’d thought. That was good enough. He considered it a miracle he was this close to pitching again.
But the regular season was about to begin, and that meant it was make-it-or-break-it time for him.
He wanted on the mound in the first series. If he couldn’t be the first game starter, then he wanted in the rotation.
There was no doubt his shoulder was in great shape. His therapy with Alicia had been going well. They’d moved from those small pitching sessions and had begun working him out with the coaches again. He’d started throwing again—regular pitches this time.
Everything felt good. His shoulder was strong, he was getting velocity on his pitches, and every day he felt better and better, like his old self again. Alicia still put him through his grueling therapy sessions, and every day they hurt less and less. Alicia told him it was a day-by-day thing and all a matter of time.
He hoped like hell that wasn’t some standard bullshit spiel she said to all the players in recovery, because he was so goddamn ready to pitch he could taste it.
Today they were on the field working position practice. He was over with the pitchers taking warm-ups, though Alicia was there with him, along with the pitching coach, who was watching his mechanics. As he wound up and threw his curveball into the catcher’s mitt, Bobby Sloane, the pitching coach, frowned.
“Do it again.”
He did. And Bobby frowned. Again.
“One more time,” Bobby said.
After Garrett threw the pitch, Bobby still didn’t look happy. Not that Bobby ever smiled, but if you threw the pitches right, Bobby walked off and terrorized a different pitcher. This time he stayed. “Something’s off with your curve. You’re not hitting the strike zone. Is it your shoulder?”
Garrett rolled his shoulder. “It feels fine.”
“Throw a few sliders.”
He did then some changeups and fastballs, all according to the coach’s directions.
Bobby watched them all, then shook his head. Instead of talking to Garrett, he turned to Alicia. “He’s off, Alicia. I don’t like those pitches just yet. They don’t have the trademark Garrett Scott finesse.”
Alicia stepped beside Bobby and nodded. “I’ll work on him in the treatment room. It’s likely he’s still just a little bit stiff since he hasn’t thrown in so long. Therapy and just working through the pitches will get him back on the mark.”
Bobby walked away and Alicia came over to him. “Are you in any pain?”
“No.”
“You threw a lot of pitches at practice today. How does the arm feel?”
He walked off the mound with her. “Do you have any idea how fucking tired I am of hearing that question? I never want to hear that goddamn question again.”
Her lips lifted. “Well, guess what? It’s not the last time you’re going to hear it. From me or the coaching staff. So deal.”