Gripping the wooden bat, he swung a fewpractice swings to loosen up his stiff muscles. Centering himself,he allowed in the rush and the calm before the first ball flew.Steady, he turned his gaze toward the machine.
Watching the rotation, he was ready when theball launched. Muscle memory driving him, he pulled through withhis swing and nailed it. Nothing like it, that moment when the batconnected with the ball.
Cheerleading from behind, Payson let out a“Woohoo. Let’s see another just like it.”
Ego nicely stroked, he readied for the nextball. Nailed it, too. Ball after ball, he knocked them out of thepark. His shoulder was more than a little sore, but worth everyswing.
He’d have to do something special to thankher. This was truly cathartic. So far, it was proving to be thebest activity to make him feel like himself again. Well, one of thebest ways. Getting lost in Payson last night for that brief momenthad been damn effective.
Machine empty, he waved Payson in for herturn. She took her time picking out just the right bat, studyingeach one like a connoisseur. Finally, once she’d found the rightone, she extended the bat like Babe Ruth calling his shot. “Loadher up,” she commanded. Her expression all seriousness, he couldjust make out the humor under the surface.
Crouching into ready position, he watched herwiggle that very fine ass, grateful she’d worn those tight jeans.Crack. She nailed the first ball like a pro. Damn, there go thebatting lessons. “So, you play, huh?” he asked again, once themachine had emptied.
Puffing out her chest, quite the peacock, shegave him a condescending smile. “A bit.”
He laughed uproariously, delighted with herattitude. She was cockier than he was. And in that moment, he lovedher for it. It reminded him of how he used to act, used to feel.How he’d had the damn balls to earn his way into CIA and make hisdreams come true.
They each hit a few more rounds, gettingdownright silly with calling their shots. She was a gifted athlete.He tried to contain his surprise, but she was always dressed sodelicately, acted so proper… he was beyond pleasantlysurprised.
The birthday party finally finished withlaser tag, heading for the party room to devour the pizza that hadbeen delivered. With a nod of his head, he gestured toward thelaser tag arena. “Are you as adept at laser tag as you arebaseball?”
She sighed innocently, “We’ll have to findout. You?”
Stepping close, bodies inches away, he bithis lower lip in challenge. “Darlin’, I’m only good at threethings. Baseball and kicking ass are numbers two and three.”
Leaning close so her lips were only a breathaway, close enough he could smell her coconut-scented shampoo, shecocked out that hip again. “Why Mr. McAllister, I do believe youthink you’re quite the comedian. I presume number one is comedy.”She turned on her heel and strutted toward laser tag.
Yeah, he’d walked right into that one… veryintentionally. He had wanted to see her reaction, and she didn’tdisappoint. Couldn’t help himself. It felt great to be normalagain. To flirt completely carefree, bad jokes included.
~
Exhausted, sweaty, invigorated, Paysonfollowed Ronan out of laser tag. First time she’d ever lost atlaser tag. Ever. He’d dodged a serious attack when she threw thegun at him after it had stalled. Rather than being shocked orhorrified at her angry outburst, he laughed gleefully and chasedher across the course, tackling her and going in for the kill whenhe caught her.
“Stupid gun is broken. There was a delay.Poor craftsmanship, that’s what it is. I’m demanding a refund.”
Ronan took her hand, brought it to his lipsand raised his eyebrow at her. “Face it, you got your ass kicked.Royally.”
She wanted to be angry at that damn ego. But,she was too happy to see it. To see him smiling, giving as good ashe got. This was that little light she’d seen flickers ofbefore.
Walking hand in hand, they left the reccenter and headed out to his truck. A few more inches of snow hadstuck to the ground since they’d been inside. Forecast said sixinches of accumulation in total, and she loved every lastflake.
Her car, however, didn’t. Nor did herdelivery van; maybe he’d let her borrow his truck if they needed todo any deliveries over snowy roads.
“Can I take advantage of you?”
His uncomfortable swallow was unmistakable.“Uh…”
Eyes dancing with humor, she took pity on himand expounded, “I mean your truck. I need to pick up a present formy nephew. He’s turning seven and I need to go to the store.”
Nodding appreciatively, Ronan forced a smile,“You almost had me there. Toy store off Beachside?”
“Please. And, any ideas that you have wouldbe greatly appreciated, as I have never been a seven-year-oldboy.”
Cranking the engine, the old truck came tolife with a deep rumble. Not caring if he noticed, Payson tookadvantage of the quiet on the drive and watched him from across thebench seat. His expression darkened, dimples lost. A little bit ofher heart ached, missing his good humor.
Although she had only known him for a fewshort weeks, she already felt absurdly comfortable with him.Initially, he’d seemed insulting and rude, but she was beginning tosee that it was an act. Pushing others away seemed easy for him, ormaybe it was a defense mechanism. Yet every day, he seemed to openup a little more, he was calmer, kinder, even goofier. Recoveringfrom his trauma. Accepting himself and his surroundings.
He’d been so… alive in there. She was hopingit would last a little longer, but something was eating away at himstill. He’d managed to suppress it for a few hours, but it surfacedagain. Was surfacing less since she’d met him, but not gone yet.The few hours they’d spent together this morning werepromising.
