Page 76 of Angel In Armani

“Hard to hurt practice balls too much,” Maggie said. “And one thing we’re well stocked up on here is baseballs. Okay, let’s go. I’ll pitch. That’s easier than using the ball machine.”

That sounded good to Sara. She took up position at the far end of the cage. Maggie walked backward with the balls then plucked one out of the bucket. She took up a stance that Sara thought looked a little too good based on what she’d seen in Orlando.

“Go easy on me,” she said. “Complete idiot here, remember?”

“Sorry.” Maggie adjusted her stance to something a bit more relaxed. “Force of habit.”

“Let me guess, you were a pitcher?”

Maggie lobbed the ball underarm and Sara swung at it. To her surprise, she actually connected. But the ball didn’t go very far. She grimaced.

“It’s a start,” Maggie said. “And I was kind of an all-arounder. I batted mostly but I could pitch a bit if I had to. But like I said, I was no superstar.” She smiled suddenly. “You know, if you want to learn to pitch, you should ask Lucas to teach you.” She lobbed the ball again.

Sara swung without thinking about it. “L-Lucas?” The bat connected again, this time with a more solid thunk, and the ball headed back in Maggie’s direction. Maggie stuck out her glove and caught it easily. Dougal, attracted by the noise, came trotting over to investigate and sat by Maggie’s feet.

“Did Lucas play baseball?” Sara asked, then wished she hadn’t when she saw Maggie’s smile turned smug. Damn, she’d taken the bait.

“Sure did,” Maggie said. “All three of them played in college. That’s how they met. Didn’t he tell you that?”

“It’s not the kind of thing we talk about,” Sara said.

“Oh? What do you talk about?”

“Mostly flight times and fuel bills,” Sara said firmly. “Let me try again.”

Maggie shrugged and pitched another.

Miraculously, Sara hit it for the third time in a row.

“Lucas was a great pitcher. I’ve looked at his stats. He probably would’ve made it to the majors,” Maggie said, watching the ball sail past her.

Don’t ask what happened, don’t ask what happened. Sara bit the inside of her cheek.

“You don’t want to know what happened?”

Sara forced a shrug. “Not really my business.”

“Really?” Maggie looked skeptical as she scooped up another ball.

“Really. Throw another one.”

“The correct term is pitch, not throw.”

“Pitch it, then,” Sara said.

Maggie stared at her a moment and then nodded. “If that’s what you want. I’ll go a little faster this time.”

At the end of another forty minutes or so, Dougal was sound asleep in a sunny patch near the benches and Sara’s arms were starting to ache. “Time out,” she called. “Or whatever they say in baseball.”

“Time out is right,” Maggie said. She jogged back toward the benches, opened the tote bag, and produced two bottles of water and a plastic container of the promised cookies.

Sara swigged water gratefully then took a cookie.

“You know, you’re not so bad,” Maggie said. “We’ll have you trained up in no time. You’ll be the star rookie in the staff game.”

“Only if you bribe me with a lifetime supply of these.”

Maggie offered her the box. Sara took another one. Pecan and caramel and chocolate exploded on her tongue.

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