Page 64 of Going Deep
He watched her send a ball sailing, then swung the bat back up on her shoulder to prepare for the next. Her lightly tanned skin was glistening with a fine sheen of sweat, a line of damp running down the back of her shirt.
He heard the chime of the bell, signaling her pitches had run out. Muttering to herself, she turned back to the control box, swiped her card again, then flipped the dial on the pitch selector. Frowning, she finally settled on a setting, and without looking up, went right back to the batter’s box.
“Hey, O’Reilly!”
Michael glanced up, looking around to see who’d called his name. He grinned when he recognized the lanky blond man striding toward him. “Sean.”
“I thought that was you.” Sean’s grin broke out as he clasped Michael’s hand in a hard grip. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Michael nodded at the cage where Ginger was smashing Spauldings. “Just watching my girl do her thing.”
“Yeah?” Sean turned, his brown eyes widening. He watched Ginger connect and shoot a line drive toward where third base would be. “Damn.”
“I know.” He grinned as another ball went sailing. “I’ve never been so turned on by baseball.”
Sean let out a barking laugh. “She’s fine, man. And she can hit. You ought to send her my way, I could use her.”
Michael saw red for one brief moment before he remembered Sean coached an adult fast-pitch softball team. He forced his shoulders to relax. “You still coaching?”
“Season ended last weekend, but there’s always next year.” Sean eyed Ginger’s form as she sent another ball out. “That’s a hot bat. We might win a few games with her on the team.”
“Talk to her,” Michael invited. “She might be into it.”
Sean narrowed his eyes. “Is she talking to herself?”
“Singing,” Michael said with a grin. “Right now, I think it’s Aretha Franklin. Respect.”
Sean narrowed his eyes, then laughed as he realized she was indeed spelling out ‘r-e-s-p-e-c-t’. “Whatever works.”
Michael nodded. “What brings you out if the season’s over?”
Sean jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Some of the kids from the Center. We bring ‘em out, let ‘em hammer their frustrations out on some baseballs a couple times a week when the weather’s good.”
Michael nodded in approval. “Nice.”
“Haven’t seen you there lately,” Sean put in.
“I haven’t been by in a few months,” Michael acknowledged. He tried to make it in to the community center that bore his family’s name a few times a month, to volunteer or just see how things were running, but the summer had kept him busier than he’d expected.
Sean jerked his chin at the batting cage, and the blonde in it. “She the reason why?”
“Part of it,” Michael admitted. “Couple of other things.”
“Yeah, we heard about the new childhood health initiative.” Sean tucked his hands into his pockets. “That’s gonna make a difference for a lot of kids.”
“That’s the hope.”
He turned his head as the bell sounded to signal the end of the round, and watched Ginger step back from the plate. She tugged off the batting helmet and the baseball cap to swipe an arm across her forehead, then she glanced up.
Her eyes widened with surprise when she saw him standing there, then she smiled. “Hey.”
“Hey.” He watched her stroll over, appreciating the easy, athletic way she walked. “Nice work.”
“Thanks,” she said, just a little breathless. “Tanked a few of the last ones. I’m getting tired.”
Sean’s brows shot up. “That was tanking?”
“Just the last few,” she replied, a polite smile on her lips to acknowledge Sean, then turned to Michael with a questioning look.
