Free No Better Man by Sara Richardson Page B

seen it up close for too many years. For Dad, no one would ever live up to her mother. And judging by the way he’d reacted with that picture, Bryce felt the same way about Yvonne.
    He wandered over. “We should head down.”
    Wow! Four whole words! She fought the urge to give him a round of applause. Not that he would’ve seen it anyway, because he slung the duffel over his shoulder and turned his back to her, trudging down the slope like a big brother who was forced to let his annoying little sister tag along.
    She jogged after him, but had a hard time catching up, what with those long strides of his and all. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was actually trying to run away from her. Good thing she knew where he lived. He could run, but he couldn’t hide from her. Not forever.
    At the edge of the outfield, she finally caught up with him and Moose. People were already clustered around the benches by the chain-link fence.
    The two of them walked in silence, seeing as how he didn’t talk much and she could hardly breathe because of the altitude. Moose trotted beside them, then must’ve caught some delicious scent because he bounded away in that happy-go-lucky way, ears flopping, tongue flapping in the breeze.
    Bryce’s tennis shoes kicked up dust with his swift pace. His face had frozen into a somber expression—eyes focused straight ahead, lips set into a frown. She had half a mind to trip him or hug him or something…anything to snap him out of whatever mood he was in. Seriously. The man really needed to lighten up, smile more. He had the best smile. At least she thought he did. It was hard to remember, seeing as how he’d only smiled once in her presence.
    Lucky for him, fun was one of her specialties. She sidled up next to him. “This is gonna be great. Who’re we playing?”
    “Team Coors.” His eyes lowered for one of his special I’m so above you glances, but he didn’t turn his head. “They’re a group from the local bar.”
    She checked out the opposition’s bench. Sure enough, there were a couple of twelve packs stacked near the gear. Some members of the team already held open cans in their hands. “Sweet. That’ll make it easy. By the seventh inning, they won’t even be able to walk the baseline, let alone run.”
    Bryce slowed and peered down at her.
    Wait a minute. Holy smokes, Batman. Was that a smile on his face?
    “We’ve shut ’em out the last six games.” The smile grew. It grew until it lit his eyes with an intensity that sparked a burning sensation deep in her chest. She did her best to ignore it, even as the feeling spread through her. Whew. She fought the urge to fan herself. She’d never felt a singe like this, not even with Logan.
    They made it to the bench and he slung down the bag, that bicep of his knotted and tan and hard.
    Her fingertips tingled with a desperation to touch it, to crawl their way up his arm, across his shoulders, kneading and caressing until all of his tension melted away…
    “Can you help me with something?”
    She gulped air to steady her lungs. “Sure,” she rasped, not meaning to sound all sultry, but it couldn’t be helped.
    He dug a clipboard out of his bag and handed it to her. “Need someone to keep the stats.”
    “Stats?” She glared at the clipboard and read the scorecard. He wanted her to sit on the bench and take stats?
    “Yeah. You do know how to take stats, don’t you?” he asked as if skeptical about her vast baseball knowledge.
    Despite the chill in the air, perspiration beaded on her forehead. Bryce was unbelievable. “Of course I know how to take stats.” She tossed the clipboard onto the bench. “But if I take stats, I won’t be able to play.” That was exactly what he wanted, wasn’t it? To stick her on the bench, out of the way. “I’ll be on the bench the whole game.”
    He shrugged, a silent so what?
    A smile wriggled on her lips. She’d show him so what. She’d been an All-American pitcher on her