Page 1 of Secondhand Secrets

One

Ally Egan gawped at the wayward baseball shooting across the field toward her head, her eyes instinctively—and perhaps, nonsensically—clenching shut against the eminent impact.

“Whoa, Ally!”

A hand yanked her off-balance, and she re-opened her eyes just in time to land on Emilia Bonacci; Emilia’s fiancé, Blaine, catching both women before they hit the ground.

The moment of collision passed, and Ally turned to Fred Harding in the bleacher behind, the sixty-year-old doing a little jig while waving his wrinkled-leather mitt in the air, the ball inside.

“You okay?” Emilia’s voice cut through again, and Ally set about straightening and brushing stray locks of cropped blonde hair from her eyes.

How embarrassing. Still, she couldn’t exactly complain about being spared an excruciating meeting with a hard, white orb, so she twisted around to Emilia—her friend of just a few months—and offered an appreciative smile. “Yeah, thanks for the save.”

The fuss over the stray ball settled, and she tugged at the crooked hem of her baby pink cardigan, the bitter scent of beer wafting around her. Next, she steeled her focus back to the pitch where an early summer game played out between the home team, The Harlow Braves, and neighboring rivals, The Marston Giants.

The next batter stepped to the plate, some new guy she’d never seen in Harlow before, much less play for Harlow… How odd. She cupped her hand over her brow and squinted for a better look, struggling to figure how this person had joined the team so fast, much less without her notice or any mention in this gossipy town.

I guess this is what I get for avoiding Maynard’s Tavern or, more precisely, the owner, Sarah Overton…

With Harlow being a middle-of-nowhere Minnesotan town, everyone knew everyone else, and word of fresh blood travelled fast. She sized this new guy up against the others that she did know on the pitch and guessed him to be about six foot, his shoulders wide, his build lean, but strong. Though she couldn’t see his face all that well, he had the air of someone around her age of twenty-three.

Yep, definitely new blood.

Then again, I made a vow to stop looking, remember?

The pitcher threw the ball, and she loosened her posture, resigned to indifference. The new guy swung and, in all his admitted beauty, left a hefty metallic thunk reverberating around the two-hundred-strong crowd.

Unexplainable tension gripped low in her tummy. She followed the ball’s trajectory far across the park, which allowed time for him to take all bases home.

Cheers roared around her. Almost everyone stood. Not her, though. Her mouth slipped open, while she peered up at all the people bouncing about and clapping hands, her ears stinging from all the hollering voices until her legs worked of their own volition and lifted her to join them.

Talk about the bandwagon effect! She twisted back to the stranger strolling casually across the bases, his body angled away and his blue baseball cap obscuring any distinct features. All she could really discern was the patch of dark blond hair protruding from under his cap.

Why am I still looking?!

Her heart fluttered, and her hand rose to the base of her throat, those actions providing her answer. How familiar. As was her problem here. A problem too many young women in these parts suffered. The complexities of living in a small town. Especially when confronted with a man the slightest bit handsome and physically capable.

His feet met the home plate, and the cheers around her peaked. She pressed her hands over her ears, but not so much that she didn’t catch Emilia’s next raised words. “Maybe I’m still too new in town, but I’m sure I’ve never seen that guy around.”

A quick break in play was called, and Ally waited for the noise to fade before lowering her hands to reply, even though she didn’t want to look at any hot young men, much less discuss them…

“That’s because he isn’t from Harlow. And I’m just as clueless as you.”

“Now, that’s different.” Emilia’s dark brown eyes glittered, and she settled back down on the bench, her hand quick to wrap around Blaine’s. “Ally Egan is usually the first to know about these things. In fact, she’s usually the first to knock on a newbie’s door and invite herself in with her classic opener… a personally delivered breakfast.”

Usually. Yes. But not anymore. Not since her fallout with Sarah two months ago. Though tightness pulled at her chest, she pinched her lips together and sent Emilia a benevolent scowl. Taking the hint to drop the subject, Emilia let out a sigh and turned to speak with Blaine.

Meanwhile, Ally stared ahead, where she unfortunately caught a glimpse of the new guy running up the stadium steps. Maybe he had people here watching him. A distant cousin or something. With any luck, his presence in this sleepy town would be limited to a super brief visit before he disappeared back to wherever he’d come from.

Really, after months of upheaval, all she wanted to do was enjoy her first fun day out. She didn’t want any reminders of her more flirtatious past. A past based on nothing more than words and very little action. At twenty-three years old, she was as single as she’d ever been, and perhaps, her singledom was for the best.

Maybe all I’ll ever be is a small-town girl, but there’s got to be more to life than trying to fall in love. Art. Dreams of travel. Who knows, maybe one day I’ll finally find it in me to leave this place…

So long as she stuck to her new plan—look but don’t touch or even speak—she’d be fine. Just fine.

The man she meant to avoid side-stepped his way through a nearby row. The first feature to draw her focus was his strong and clean shaven jawline, then the habitual-seeming smile lighting his face. Perhaps a man light on worries.

Still some rows away, his eyes seemed not quite brown, but not as light as her own pale blue. Hazel, maybe? Though as far as total strangers went, he was a tall glass of cool water on a hot day. Even if this summer had just begun, and the weather still remained kind of mild.

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