Chapter 3

The next week was relatively routine for Levi, in terms of baseball and work. What wasn't particularly routine, and possibly disruptive to that routine, was the omnipresence of Farrow in his days, and in his mind.

Since his family was working for Bree, and by extension her, and she was now on the team, it was nearly impossible to avoid her.

Not that he had any real reason to avoid her. He just…couldn't get his head on straight around her. It unsettled him.

Thankfully, his mismatched feelings didn't interfere with his game—he refused to let it. He could (begrudgingly) admit there were a few moments where he lost his stride during their first practice, but once he focused more on the game than the people playing it, it was simple to slide back into his flow.

Farrow continued (again, begrudgingly) to amaze him with her own skill. Not that she didn't have flaws—such as a tendency to swing at high-and-outside pitches. But behind the plate, she earned her nickname time and again, a machine attuned to all of Ryder's quirks and rhythms. It was a fun surprise to learn she could switch-hit, though she admitted she was rusty in that area.

On the field, he allowed himself to feel each aspect of his admiration for her; after all, it only served to strengthen teamwork to get along with his teammates. Off the field, though, he was inclined to suppress any hint of it, and often decided teasing her was the best outlet for those emotions.

This day was no different. It was demo day, one of the best parts of any project, other than the satisfaction of seeing it all come together. All of Bennet Family Contractors were onsite, as they would be for the rest of the project.

It had taken a few days for Bree and Farrow to go through all the rooms and clear out items and furniture, often using him and Jackson to help move things up to the attic. The exception was when things were moved into the innkeeper's apartment, which Bree and Farrow were using as a makeshift office.

He couldn't tell what Farrow thought, but he gave her credit for not seeming to mind.

With the rooms cleared and the plans finalized, it was time to tackle the intentional destruction—starting with the kitchen.

They'd just loaded in all their equipment when Bree and Farrow came down, dressed practically in jeans, work boots, and t-shirts; Bree had her hair twisted into its usual messy bun, while Farrow had secured her curls back in a braid.

Noticing the women—who would be impossible not to notice, if he were honest—and taking in their appearance, their youngest brother, Landon, offered them his most charming smile.

"Joining us, ladies?"

"Heck yeah." Bree rolled up her sleeve and flexed her bicep. "I can't wait to take a sledgehammer to this kitchen."

Farrow's face lit in an amused smirk, which Landon took as agreement.

"Awesome, the more the merrier." He clapped his hands together, a little too gleefully to Levi's mind.

Jackson, being the one with the best manners, stepped over to greet them, and proceeded to introduce Landon and the rest of the family—their dad, Tom, whom Bree had already met, their middle brother, Mason, and their next-youngest brother, Kyle.

Levi greeted them as he handed them each some safety goggles and gloves. He shouldn't have been surprised they wanted in on demo—a lot of clients did, and they in particular seemed pretty hands on.

Maybe it was just that he hadn't prepared himself to see Farrow for longer than a perfunctory morning check-in.

Good thing he could take out his frustration with physical labor.

They'd already moved out the appliances, which were awaiting pickup from a restoration company that wanted them. The plan now was to carefully extract the cabinets, including the island, for restoration, and knock out the pointless half wall that divided the kitchen from a small dining area. They'd expand the countertop there instead, creating an L-shaped breakfast nook.

Mason, the very precise perfectionist, would do the restoration, and paint them once Bree decided on a color. They'd replace the cruddy linoleum countertop and chipped backsplash, and tear up the ugly brown tile on the floor.

Levi hadn't said anything in order not to get Bree's hopes up, but he himself was hoping they'd find the original flooring underneath.

While he and the others got to work pulling out the countertop and working on the cabinets, Jackson started in on the half-wall, demonstrating for Bree and Farrow before allowing them to join in. Much of the work went as smoothly as it could, though a few of the cabinets gave them some trouble. Once those were out and other debris was in the dumpster, the two women chipped away at the backsplash with pry bars and hammers while the rest of them hacked away at the floor.

It wasn't long before before Levi and Landon discovered a layer of sub-flooring in their section; exchanging an anticipatory grin with his brother, Levi jimmied his crow bar underneath and ripped up a corner.

"Aw, yes!" Landon exclaimed.

The others paused their work to glance over at them as they gripped the sub floor and pulled up more of it, revealing just what Levi had hoped for.

"Is that the original hardwood?" Farrow asked as Bree picked her way through the rubble to their corner.

"You bet your ass it is," Bree beamed, bending down to examine the floor. "I was hoping we'd find something cool like this. Why would anyone cover this up? It's gorgeous—some buffing up and it'll be good as new, assuming none of it's rotted."

Mr. Bennet grunted. "Whoever remodeled this kitchen last must've cared more about the latest home design trend than the character and integrity of this home."

"We'll fix that," Bree assured him, then grinned. "What do you wanna bet we'll find more of this when we rip up that grody carpet in the dining room?"

Farrow scanned the field as she hooked her gear bag on the dugout fence, unable to settle her nerves.

They'd been practicing for a couple weeks, and other than the snide remarks and reluctant cooperation of Billy, the team gelled well together.

Centerfielder Jackson—and Levi if she was being honest—both treated her as if she'd always been part of the team. She'd also clicked easily with their first baseman, Henry North, a guy with an easygoing and chipper attitude, and a wicked wit and sense of humor, right off the bat. Neither had it taken her long to earn the respect of their third baseman, Leo Knight, a kind and contemplative guy who lived up to his name by being both strong and chivalrous—she soon learned why he was the team's main power hitter.

Their right and left fielders, Brandon Coleman and Fred Rakowski, were like two sides of the same coin. One was quiet but warm in demeanor, the other a little aloof, but not unkind; both had a certain reservedness to them. And their alternate players, Eddie Fernandez and Manny Bertolli, were both somewhat shy, but cheerful, and welcomed her with open arms.

All in all, she was confident the Longhorns could win, and now they'd have the chance to prove it.

But it wasn't the team she was worried about.

It was the Longhorns' first game of the season, sure—but it was also her first game in a few years. She hadn't mentioned this factoid to anyone on the team; only Bree, Ryder, and Andrew knew, and knew why.

And knowing, Ry sidled up next to her, nudged her none too subtly with his elbow as they both looked out over the field.

"Stop that," he suggested.

"Stop what?" But she knew.

"Thinking too much."

She nodded, swallowing the jumble of words caught in her throat. She knew he understood when he said nothing more.

She did her best to hide her distress as the rest of the team arrived, ignoring the curious stares of the other team and crowd members alike; the last thing she wanted was the attention and scrutiny of others. But she fidgeted, tugging nervously at her pristine new jersey—maroon in color, with cream-white accents and a small longhorn head on one side of the chest. And her face must have given her away; pretty much everyone but Ryder and Andrew gave her a wide berth.

The other exception was Levi, who was unabashedly looking her over as she clipped on her gear over her baseball pants.

"What?" she snapped.

Unaffected, he simply held her gaze, and the back of her neck prickled at the thought he could see right through her.

"You got this," he said softly, only loud enough for her to hear, before turning to grab up his glove.

His words settled over her like sunlight, effectively melting her icy nerves.

She further found her groove once she began to warm up with Ryder, and settled back on her haunches with satisfaction as the game began, welcoming the familiar energy.

When Ryder struck out the first batter, Bree cheered wildly from the stands, causing Ryder to blush and Farrow to grin. The second batter managed, though a little late, to connect, sending a grounder to first, where Henry scooped it up and stepped on the bag; this time Bree was joined in her cheers by Henry's girlfriend Cat Morales, who was just as enthusiastic. Similarly, their injured catcher, Frank Chopra, whom she'd met briefly, had made it out to cheer them on.

Less enthusiastic, but just as active in cheering on the team, was Levi's friend Cristina. She was a cool customer, Farrow thought—not to mention gorgeous with her sultry voice, caramel skin, button nose, and sleek, coal-black hair. The two were obviously close, which had caused an undesirable twist of envy in Farrow's gut the first time she'd seen the two of them interact. Though she liked Cristina, she couldn't tamp down the spurt of pleasure when she'd realized how clueless Levi was. Even now, his focus, as it should be, was entirely on the game.

The third batter struck out looking.

The game continued on this way for a few innings as each team took the other's measure. The opposing team snuck in a few hits once they'd gotten a handle on the Torch's pitches, and had scored a couple runs by the end of the game—but the Longhorns came out on top four-two, thanks in part to a double by Knight.

She was sure some guys on the other team resented that she was a woman, but none of them went so far as to voice that resentment. They'd all exchanged good game high-fives with her going down the line in the post-game show of sportsmanship.

All in all, a good start to the season, she mused as she packed up the catcher's gear. She caught Ryder's eye, and the smug look on his face that said told you so—to which she rolled her eyes.

In echo of that, a voice behind her interrupted her thoughts.

"Told you you had it."

She turned to see Levi stowing his glove in his bag, dark eyes assessing her in a way that made her feel naked.

Why did that thrill her just a little?

She zipped up the catcher's gear bag and offered him an acknowledging smile. "Indeed you did. Are your predictions always so accurate?"

His face lit with a little mischief at her teasing. "I do try not to be wrong if I can help it."

"And would you admit it if you were wrong?"

"Would you?"

There was that something else behind his eyes again, the sort of challenge. Unsure now whether he was teasing her or not, she tilted her head in a show of confusion. "Of course."

She couldn't tell if this answer satisfied him. He opened his mouth, but his response was derailed when Cristina stepped up next to him.

"Hey, great game you guys." Though she addressed both of them, her affectionate smile was all for Levi.

Oblivious, Levi grinned back at her. His affection for Cristina was clear, but, Farrow noted, it didn't hit the same note. "I really think we can win the whole thing this year, you know?"

"I agree." Though she meant it, Farrow spoke mostly to remind them of her presence and keep the situation from getting awkward. She slung her gear bag over her shoulder. "I should get going—see you at practice, Levi."

"Yeah," he said, and when he turned to zip his own bag closed, Farrow gave Cristina an understanding smile, and a nod.

Though Cristina blinked, she nodded back.

As Farrow left the dugout, Levi frowned after her. She could've at least tried to talk to Tina. Instead she'd practically ignored her, and was now interrupting whatever conversation Bree was having with Jackson and Ryder.

He could see the disappointment on his brother's face as they headed toward Farrow's car.

"Levi."

"What? Sorry." He returned his attention to Tina. "I got distracted thinking it was kind of rude of Farrow to leave just as you came over."

"I think she could tell I wanted to talk to you."

He honed in on the hesitation in her voice. "What's up?"

She paused, searching his face for something, though he didn't know what. Eventually, she took a breath before blurting, "Billy asked me out."

A blanch took over his face. "What?" When she didn't respond, he continued, "You didn't say yes, did you?"

"I told him I'd think about it. Do you care if I say yes?"

There was that searching look again, and suspicion began to seep into his brain like a shadow. "Of course I care. Billy's…Billy is…Look, you could do a whole lot better than Billy Collins. He's kind of a dick."

She was quiet again, glancing around to make sure no one else was around, clearly trying to choose her words carefully.

"Is that the only reason you care?" she finally asked. Her voice was so quiet, and she couldn't meet his eyes—and just like that, suspicion became knowing.

His stomach sank; it felt like an elevator had fallen and crashed in his gut, causing the rest of his limbs to short-circuit. This couldn't be happening.

"Tina, I…"

When he trailed off, she finally looked up, and couldn't hide the hurt on her face. It killed him, but what was he supposed to tell her? He couldn't make himself feel the same.

"How long?" he found himself asking, in a voice that sounded hollow to his own ears.

She looked away again. "A few years now."

Jesus, a few years? And he'd never freaking noticed? Some best friend he was.

Proving her own best friend abilities, she seemed to read his thoughts.

"I hid my feelings because I didn't want to ruin our friendship. I didn't want you to notice. And I guess I was hoping I'd grow out of it. I'm telling you now because…well, I'm tired of hiding it." She half-laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Takes too much energy."

His throat was dry. He hoped like hell he wasn't about to lose his best friend. "I'm sorry." A lame consolation, but it was all he had.

"Me too." Tears welled in her eyes, but she held them back—that was his Tina, always so stoic.

No. No, not his Tina anymore.

She sniffed a little, her clear brown eyes glazed with the shine of reluctant tears. "There's not even a little chance?"

His throat burned with the threat of his own tears. Was there anything he could say that wouldn't sound placating? He swallowed down the burn.

"I love you Tina, I just…" Crap, that definitely sounded placating. He looked at her, willing her to understand.

And she did. "You just love me as a friend," she finished for him, a single tear finally spilling over her cheek.

He couldn't help reaching out, brushing the tear away with his thumb. When it seemed like she was going to sob, he just pulled her in, crushed her to him. Her arms came around him, squeezed him just as hard—likely to stem her tears. She wouldn't want anyone to see her crying.

He felt her breathe deeply before releasing her hold, and he brushed his lips over her hair as he pulled back.

"I'll be alright," she told him.

It was probably dumb of him, but he had to ask. "You're not thinking of going out with Billy now, are you?"

The look she leveled at him could have turned him to stone. "If you have no intention of asking me out yourself, you have no right to tell me I can't date someone. I can't moon over you forever, Levi."

"I know," he said quickly. "I just really don't think you'd like Billy."

Her gaze softened a little. "He is kind of smarmy," she admitted, then muttered under her breath, "Y un pendejo."

His lips quirked, but he couldn't smile.

"Well," Tina sighed, then gave him a discerning look. "All's fair in love and baseball. I guess I'm not that surprised, considering how obsessed you are with Farrow."

"What?" That threw him off. "I'm not obsessed with Farrow."

She shook her head at him, a little exasperated. "Levi, do you even realize how much you've asked Ryder about her over the years? How often you look at her when you think no one's watching, or how often she looks at you?"

"There's nothing going on between me and Farrow," he insisted, even as a part of his mind rebelled against the idea—and another part of him admitted he probably was a little obsessed with her.

Tina's smile was sad, and if he wasn't mistaken, pitying. "Maybe not yet."

Leaving it at that, she stepped away, leaving him alone in the dugout to try to wrap his brain around everything that just happened, and that one last little nugget of wisdom.

For the next several days, Levi went through the motions.

He put on a cheerful face and showed up to work at the inn, but volunteered for the tasks that would have him working alone for a bit. If his family noticed anything off, they refrained from asking him about it, for which he was grateful.

He could tell Jackson was worried about him, though, so he redoubled his efforts to be in good humor at work, and whenever Jackson was home.

He thought about texting Tina so many times, starting to type out messages before deleting them. He missed her, but what could he say?

How were they supposed to move past this?

Sometimes he wished he could return her feelings, sometimes he wished she didn't have feelings for him, and sometimes he even thought it was little selfish of her to have told him of her feelings. He understood why she had, but now they were his burden, and he was ashamed to think it. She wasn't really responsible for his feelings, any more than he was for hers.

Mostly he just wanted things to go back to the way they were. Her absence was a phantom limb in his life.

He felt it most keenly when he saw her at the coffeeshop they both frequented, sitting across from Billy on what he assumed was a date.

His feet refused to move when he saw her, and as if she sensed him, she looked up and met his eyes. She and Billy were at a table tucked in a corner, and Billy's back was to him, but even from his spot in line Levi was close enough to hear what Billy was saying. He was droning on about the level of skill he brought to the Longhorns, and Tina nodded politely as he spoke, her eyes still on Levi.

There was no way she was enjoying the conversation, Levi thought. But she'd chosen to be there, despite his own assurance that she deserved better. It hurt, just as much as the sudden estrangement between them, that she thought so little of herself as to settle for someone like Billy, even for one date.

Of course, he had no way of knowing how many dates they'd been on, and he had no right to ask.

It was she who looked away first. His heart sagged miserably, and he was tempted to just leave the shop without having ordered anything. But he forced himself to get his coffee. Made a point to let her know he wasn't going to run away.

The only thing that made him feel better was baseball.

It was the best outlet for all his conflicting emotions, and he absolutely would not let the situation with Tina put him in a slump. If anything, it fueled him. For a couple hours, at least, he could escape thinking about his problems.

Some of his teammates noticed the intensity of his focus; he could often feel Jackson and Ryder watching him carefully, as they knew him well, and were probably right to be concerned. But he also felt another pair of eyes on him with alarming discernment.

Farrow stared at him as much as she ever had, but he could tell there was something else behind the looks she gave him. Instead of glancing away when he caught her looking, she started tilting her head, or raising a brow. Her way of checking in, he supposed. She never outright asked him if he was okay, and maybe he was imagining it, but he couldn't help wondering if she knew what occurred with Tina, and just how it was affecting him.

Regardless, the unexpected show of support was a surprising source of comfort.

They'd had a couple games during the week, both of which they'd won, thanks to some stellar pitching from Ryder, and an epic home run from Knight.

They also had a small cheer section, which consisted of Bree, and Henry's adorably excitable girlfriend, Cat. They declared their intention to show up for every game, and enthusiastically pumped up their team, while taunting their opponents with punny jeers such as, "You've been pitch slapped!" which they said whenever Ryder struck someone out looking.

It always made Levi smile.

They were even gifted their own Longhorns jerseys and ball caps by the team, with their last names printed on the back, just like the rest of the team.

Frank didn't make it to every game, but came when he was able, keen to root for his team even if he couldn't play.

One person who stayed away was Tina. Part of him was relieved—he'd been worried seeing her would be distracting—but on the other hand, it stung. Even if she'd wanted to be there to cheer on Jackson and Ryder, and now Billy, evidently she stayed away for his sake. Jackson and Ryder definitely noticed she wasn't there, but if they suspected her reasons, they didn't say.

Now it was Saturday, and they had an afternoon game against the Redcoats.

He and Jackson warmed up together, since Ryder usually warmed up with Farrow now. He was so focused on the back and forth of catch he didn't notice Billy was late. It wasn't until five minutes before the game was set to start that Billy showed up, stomping his way into the dugout and knocking shoulders with Levi on his way to hang his gear bag.

Levi opened his mouth to say something, but felt a hand on his arm. He turned to see Farrow watching him, shin guards already strapped to her legs.

"Ignore him. He's clearly in a mood."

He nodded, and because she was still touching him, he could feel it when she went rigid, and he was close enough to hear her sharp intake of breath.

"What?" he asked, automatically searching for something wrong. But all he saw was the other team getting ready to bat. "Farrow?"

She only kept staring at the other team. Gripping her arm, he turned her to face him. "What's wrong?"

"Something's wrong?" Wondering why Ro wasn't putting the rest of her catcher's gear on, Ryder had approached her and Levi, only to be alarmed by the stricken look on his cousin's face.

She leveled her gaze at him, voice steely when she said, "Look who's on the other team."

Ryder narrowed his eyes, looking across the infield to scan the players—and his eyes alighted on a face he"d very much like to meet his fist. "Shit."

"What?" Impatient now, Levi had dropped Farrow's arm and glanced between the cousins in confusion.

"See the blonde guy? With the neon yellow cleats?" Ryder murmured. "His name is Greg Wyatt. Ro and I have an unsavory history with him."

"Is he really good or something?"

"No," Farrow answered, and she said it so matter-of-factly Levi almost missed the bite behind the word. Then she turned abruptly and went to finish putting on her gear.

Levi looked to Ryder for an explanation, but Ry only shook his head. There wasn't enough time; and besides, it was Ro's story more than his. "A story for another time."

But Levi noticed Ryder gathered Andrew, who'd been speaking to Billy, and they both went over to speak to Farrow, distinct frowns occupying all their faces.

When they took their places on the field, Levi noticed Farrow had twisted her hair into a low bun, allowing her backward ball cap and the catcher's mask to hide her hair. He didn't think anything of it until Ryder started throwing a few warm up pitches; Levi happened to glance at the Redcoats' dugout, and saw Wyatt's gaze honed in on the pitcher's mound, something cold about his expression.

But he barely glanced behind the plate, and Levi realized with her long hair hidden, and all the catcher's gear on, Farrow wouldn't look like a woman to anyone not paying much attention. She'd never gone to any lengths to hide herself before, and it worried him she did so now. Who was this Wyatt guy?

Despite the strange start to the game, the first inning went well. Three up, three down for them on the field—two strike outs and one play at first. When it was their turn to bat, Henry surprised the other team by leading off with a double.

The wild cheering at Henry's hit had Levi glancing at the stands, unsurprised to see Bree clapping and Cat jumping up and down. But his breath hitched when he saw that Tina was sitting with them, cheering just as loudly, and sporting a Longhorns jersey of her own. She looked in his direction, and when she tipped her head in a subtle nod, his speeding heart settled.

They would need to talk, but he hadn't lost his best friend.

After that, his attention was fully on the game, and by the end of the inning the Longhorns were up one-nothing. Everything was fine until the third inning, when Farrow had to finally take the chest protector off to bat.

Some of the other players, especially a loud-mouthed prick, called Thorpe by his team, made noises about a woman being allowed to play. They had to pause the game while Andrew assured their captain—a guy named Denny—their coach, and the ump they had the league's full permission.

But it really started going downhill once Wyatt finally noticed Darcy emblazoned on the back of Farrow's jersey.

She managed to hit a single into left field in her first at bat, despite the leering of the opposing team. But she was thrown out at second when Manny, their next batter, hit a grounder to short. They didn't get any runs that inning, but neither did the Redcoats; Farrow was, if anything, extra focused on her catching, and the Dynamic Duo certainly proved their worth. By the end of the eighth inning, the Longhorns were up three to two, thanks largely to some more powerful hits from Brandon and Eddie.

Unfortunately, going into the top of the ninth, the Redcoats' big hitters were next in the line up. The one they called Crawford swaggered to the plate, and after fouling a couple, smacked the ball far enough into left field to earn himself a double. He made it to third when Thorpe hit a grounder to second, which Billy scooped up and threw to Henry at first.

The next hitter, a pleasant-faced charmer with Willoughby spelled across the back of his broad shoulders, tried to hit on Farrow. When she ignored him, he only shrugged, smiling smugly before swinging at the next pitch—and sending it into left field shallowly enough that Fred couldn't get there in time. Willoughby ran safely to first, while Crawford made a beeline for home.

The score was tied.

Levi groaned when Forster, a tall S.O.B. with tree trunks for legs approached the plate next; he'd been responsible for the hit that brought in the Redcoats' previous two runs. And he proved his power again by smashing it over the right field fence.

Willoughby practically danced around the bases, while Forster jogged behind him.

Wyatt was next, sauntering to the batter's box almost lazily. He ignored Farrow and glared down Ryder, swinging at the first pitch. He sent a line drive whizzing right to Levi, who barely had to take a step to snag it. And the next batter, Elton, struck out swinging.

They had one more at-bat to retake the lead, and though Farrow thought they could do it, a part of her just wanted the game to be over. As she took a drink from her water bottle, she noticed Wyatt putting catcher's gear on instead of staying in right field.

Great. Just what she needed.

Ryder led off the inning, edging out a single after working his way up to a full count. He was followed by Brandon, who cracked it into center field, where the fly was caught by that giant Forster guy. Jackson was next, and his patience rewarded him with a walk; with two on base and only one out, they still had a good chance, and Farrow stepped out on deck for some practice swings.

Their good chance became less good when Fred nicked a grounder right to the third baseman, who only had to step on third to tag Ryder out.

Farrow's nerves scrambled under her skin; she felt chilled and clammy at the same time, and so took a breath before stepping into the batter's box. She deliberately reminded herself to stay loose as she settled into her stance.

"How's Gemma?"

The question had been murmured low enough the ump didn't hear, just as she took a step to swing; it proved enough to distract her, and she swung just a little too late, sending the ball skittering down the first base line out of play.

"Does she miss me?" Wyatt whispered as the ball was returned to the pitcher.

She ignored him, and the next pitch. But thoughts of her sister were still distracting. On the next pitch she fouled the ball right into the fence behind home.

"C'mon, Vac!" Bree called from the stands, then began chanting a cheer from their softball days she thought of as the "Olé" cheer. "Olé, olé, olé olé. Hit the ball the other way. Our team is hot, hot, hot, your team is not, not, not; so hit the ball, ball, ball, over the wall, wall, wall."

Bree's encouragement nearly settled her, but Wyatt had one last taunt up his sleeve.

"Did you know her chapstick tastes like pomegranate?"

The comment stopped her cold, and her arms felt like noodles as they belatedly got the message to swing the bat, hit nothing but air.

Strike three.

"Guess that's game over." Wyatt smirked as he stood. "Better luck next time."