Nat Owen, First Base

Chapter One

Chapter One––––––––

Nat Owen, World Series Nighthawks MVP, stumbled into a taxi in front of a hotel in midtown Manhattan. Hung over from celebrating, he’d spent the night with Lucy Albright, CMA’s top female country vocalist.

Memories of last night floated through a haze of alcohol. He remembered that someone had offered him pills, and there was white powder on a mirror going up someone’s nose. He’d turned away from the drugs. He’d never taken drugs of any kind. Alcohol was a different story.

Since his intake was restricted during the season, his capacity for liquor had dropped to practically zero. It had saved him a shitload of money since he could get a buzz from only two beers. The celebrations had been champagne all the way. Lucy’s entourage had refilled his glass time and again, so he had no idea how much he’d drunk. It must have been plenty because he had a thirst that wouldn’t quit and a pounding in his head like nobody’s business.

Once inside his apartment, he downed two bottles of water. Then he opened the egg sandwich he’d picked up at the deli and took a bite. Next, he filled the coffee pot and grabbed a bottle of ibuprofen from the medicine cabinet. After wolfing down his sandwich, he popped three pain pills and washed them down with coffee.

He took a large mug of java into the living room where he sprawled on the sofa. Kicking off his shoes, he rested his feet on the coffee table. Eyes shut, he tried to recreate last evening in his mind. Had he slept with Lucy? He couldn’t remember. Retrieving his wallet, he flipped it open and, sure enough, a condom was missing.

Country music played in his brain. That’s right, Lucy and two members of her band had harmonized. He remembered a platter of sandwiches. More champagne. Someone took his hand and led him to the bedroom.

A vision of Lucy taking off her clothes popped up. Wow! Yeah. Lucy naked came back to him, clear as a bell. He’d been on the bed, and she had been riding him like a cowgirl. Her large breasts had bounced in his face. Oh, yes, it was all coming back.

Nat padded into the kitchen for a java refill but stopped to down two glasses of water first. Hell, he’d never been this thirsty in his life. As the pain receded, he grinned. Skinny, little Nat Owen from Willow Falls had banged Lucy Albright, country music star. Raised to be a gentleman, Nat wouldn’t brag to the guys about his conquest, but they’d probably guess anyway and tease the hell out of him.

Wouldn’t the folks back home be surprised? He’d been the smallest kid in his third-grade class. The fourth child of seven, he’d never been anything special. His siblings went out of their way to remind him of that every day. Whenever he acted up, his mother would turn a stone-cold eye on him and yell, “Who do you think you are?”

Hell, Nat Owen didn’t think he was anybody at all until baseball came along. What would they think of their little brother now? World Series MVP and Lucy Albright’s lover—all in one week—was more than a regular guy could believe.

After hydrating himself and popping a couple more painkillers, Nat flopped into bed and zonked out for the rest of the day. As the sun set, he awoke to the sound of text messages popping up on his phone. He read Bobby’s first.

Where the hell are you? Party at Matt’s starts NOW

Then Skip’s:

Free food and booze at Matt’s. Where are you?

Then Jake’s:

Missing a great party, asshole. Get to Matt’s now!

Bleary-eyed, half asleep, and with a mouth as dry as month-old bread, Nat wracked his brain trying to remember what his friends were talking about. Then it hit him! Dusty, Matt’s fiancée, and Nicki Overton, her teammate, were making a huge pot of chili, salad, and cakes. Matt was buying a keg and a victory party had been scheduled.

The thought of chili and beer made Nat retch. He ran to the bathroom. The warm bed with soft sheets called to him. But he’d promised the guys he’d go. He was the guest of honor, so he had to show up. Then there was Nicki.

Nat had noticed Nicki when she first showed up with Dusty at Freddie’s Bar & Grill—the New York Nighthawks’ hangout. Dusty’s sidekick was the prettiest catcher he had ever seen. She had chin-length soft brown hair, huge, translucent, light turquoise eyes, and a wiry, athletic build. She played on the same women’s softball team as Dusty.

Nicki was the first professional softball player he’d met, besides Matt’s girl. They played on the New York Queens. Along with his teammates, he’d watched Nicki handle the job with cool-headed intelligence and grace. Matt and Dusty’s connection intrigued Nat. He’d never dated a female athlete before and wondered if a man and a woman playing the same sport agreed about it or fought about it. Couldn’t help but wonder if the s*x was better.

He had quizzed his teammate about Dusty, never about the s*x part, though he had been curious. Matt would probably laugh in his face, anyway, or punch him out. He wasn’t the kind to kiss and tell. Just twenty-nine with his career in full swing, Nat had it all—except a steady girlfriend. From time to time, he’d hook-up with a girl on the road. The s*x wasn’t great, but it was good enough—hell, better than no s*x.

He’d wondered about that. All the guys on the team living with women appeared happier, calmer. Nat figured relationship s*x must be head-and-shoulders above the get-it-while-you-can kind. He’d never had a steady girl, even in high school. At sixteen, he’d had to go to baseball practice every day after school and on Saturdays. With seven kids in his house, on Sundays, he worked at the ice cream parlor in town to help support the family. There was no time or money for dating.

Once he got into pro ball, women crawled all over him. He had flitted from flower to flower, seeing no reason to deny himself or every attractive woman who wanted a piece of him. He didn’t get puffed up about his success. Not Nat, he’d been humbled by his hardscrabble early life. Grateful to baseball for lifting him up from a going-nowhere existence, he’d focused most of his energy on staying sharp. He had worked out, practiced like a maniac, and had made it to the top.

Tomcatting on the road had lost its luster. As his teammates settled into solid relationships and prepared for marriage, there were fewer and fewer guys hitting the bars. He wanted a woman who he could talk to, about the game, life, whatever. Banging a steady diet of different women left him needing something more.

He wanted what his teammates had—a girl he could count on. The time had come for Nat Owen to admit that being on his own didn’t cut it. He needed to grow up, find a good woman, and make a commitment. Easier said than done.

He gargled twice and hit the shower. The season was over and not having to wear a suit and tie anymore made him smile as he dried off. Being a cautious guy, he picked out a blue, button-down shirt, gray slacks, rep tie, and navy sports jacket, instead.

He combed his short, brown hair and evened-out his scruff. One last look in the mirror drew his attention to his bright blue eyes and fair complexion. He blushed easily, which often telegraphed his private thoughts. His oldest sibling Ginny, who was closest to him, used to say that he could never lie as his cheeks would give him away. As he grew older, he had come to agree with her. He’d turned out to be a very bad liar.

He headed down the elevator of his high-rise apartment building. It was chilly out and Nat didn’t feel great, so he’d opted to ride rather than walk the twenty blocks. The doorman flagged down a taxi, and Nat sat back for the short ride to Matt’s. When the elevator arrived, Matt’s door flew open and a huge cheer filled the hall—then singing! Nat felt his face rise to a heat level of one-hundred and four as his teammates and their women yelled, screamed, and yanked him into the apartment. His heart warmed as he silently gave thanks for his buddies.

“He’s the hero! Grand slam, top o’ the ninth! Hip, hip hooray!” Bobby Hernandez hollered.

The first baseman was mobbed, almost knocked to the floor by chest bumps and high fives. He couldn’t stop laughing. You had to love these crazy lunatics who put him up on Jake Lawrence’s shoulders. The third baseman pranced around the living room while everyone took a shot at the hero’s butt until Jake dumped him on the sofa. When he sat up, someone thrust a glass of beer in his hand. He licked his lips and brought the cold brew to his mouth. Thirst drove him to down half the glass.

“Whoa! One night with Miss Cowgirl and the guy’s a guzzler!” Skip Quincy said.

Nat finished off the beer in one more swallow, then stood up.

“Get the man another glass!” Bobby said, snatching the stein from his friend.

“Hungry?” Nicki asked him.

He faced her and smiled. She looked gorgeous, wearing a clingy pink sweater and tight jeans. The faint scent of lavender mixed with the tantalizing aroma of chili con carne sailed to his nose. He cupped her cheek for a moment. His appetite had returned.

“Starved.”

“Good. Come with me,” she said, taking his hand.

In the kitchen, the tempting smell of chili and garlic bread made his stomach rumble. Being asleep most of the day, he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Nicki took a bowl from a stack and picked up the ladle. He waited, watching her spoon out the food, then add a hunk of bread.

“Did you make this?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Smells great.”

He pulled out a chair and sat at the kitchen table. Nicki sliced a piece of red velvet cake, then joined him.

“You eat?” he asked.

“Yep. Except dessert.”

The warm food caressed his stomach. It was perfect. Every spoonful, every bite of garlic bread made him better. When he finished, he washed it down with beer.

“That was great. You’re a good cook,” he said, smiling.

She trained her big eyes on him and returned a shy smile. “Thanks.”

His gaze eased down her form, taking in every inviting curve. His pulse jumped and his d**k twitched. He’d better tread lightly, she was Dusty’s best friend. Dusty belonged to Matt now, so she was part of the group. Maybe Nicki was, too? Still, she was tempting. Her shyness added to her appeal. He grinned to think that in the group, she didn’t appear shy, but one-on-one, she retreated.

“Pink looks good on you,” he said.

“Thanks. You clean up nice, too. Congratulations. Bet you’re still in the clouds.”

“It’s hard to believe. Hasn’t sunk in yet.”

“I bet.” She put a forkful of cake in her mouth, then licked frosting off her lip. His gaze followed until every morsel disappeared. He couldn’t look away. Thoughts about what she tasted like swirled in his head.

Until his cell dinged. s**t. He checked the screen. It was Lucy.

“Sorry. Gotta take this,” he said, turning away from Nicki.

“Hey, handsome, where are you?”

“With friends.”

“You’re supposed to be with me. We’re going dancing. Don’t you remember?”

He didn’t recall much from the night before. Had he promised to meet her tonight?

“Are you sure?” He glanced at Nicki. He’d planned on getting to know her better.

“Hey, don’t do me any favors. You don’t have to come.”

“No, no! Wait! Wait. Yeah. Sure. That’d be great. Where are you going? I’ll meet you there.”

“We’re going to The Hide-Out. Hell’s Kitchen. We’ll meet you at the door.”

“I’m on my way.”

“You can’t get in without me tonight. Private party.”

“Sounds cool.”

He stuffed his phone in his back pocket. “I gotta go.”

“Oh?”

“Lucy Albright.”

“I see,” she nodded, shifting her gaze to the floor.

“It’s not like that. She’s only in town for a couple of days. She was nice enough to take some pictures with me.”

“Rumor is she was very nice to you...in other ways, too.”

Her gaze rose to meet his. He knew he was blushing. s**t! It gave him away.

“We’ll catch up next time,” he said, kissing her cheek, and squeezing her arm.

“Sure, sure. No problem.”

He heard her words but knew she was hurt. But Lucy Albright! Who turns down a night with her? Not the little nobody guy from Willow Falls. This was his fifteen minutes of fame, and he’d grab it. There’d be plenty of time to spend with Nicki after Lucy returned to her glamorous life. Leaving Nicki bothered him, all the way to the taxi.

* * * *

Nicki cleared the dishes away. She sighed, ignoring the sting behind her eyes. What guy wouldn’t run to warm Lucy Albright’s bed? With a rueful grin, she had to assure herself that she was probably a better lover than Lucy. Big stars might be selfish, and there wasn’t a selfish bone in Nicki’s body. She knew how to please a man and enjoyed doing so. She got gooseflesh at the idea of being in bed with Nat Owen. She’d crushed on him since the moment she had met him. A humble, handsome guy who played ball—he was certainly in her wheelhouse. But not when Lucy Albright was in town.

Dusty entered carrying a tray full of dirty dishes.

“Hey! What happened to Nat?”

“Lucy Albright called.”

“Really? So, he’s on the end of her leash now?”

Nicki shrugged. Best to make like it didn’t matter.

“I’m sorry, Nick. I know you kinda like him.”

“Don’t worry about me. He’s not the only fish in the sea, as my grandma would say.”

Dusty gave her friend’s shoulders a squeeze. “You’re not going to stay in here washing dishes all night, are you?”

“Why not? Nothing else for me to do.”

Dusty knit her brows. “You do fifteen more minutes, then I’ll come and relieve you. Matt bought a ton of Godiva. You gotta have some.”

“Sure, sure.”

After Dusty left, Nicki rested her forehead on the faucet. There were two other single guys in the living room, Bobby Hernandez and Skip Quincy. Though handsome and funny, they didn’t ring her chimes like Nat did. She liked the shy kind, the humble guys who weren’t all puffed up, taken with themselves. That had been Nat Owen to a tee. Maybe the key here was had? Would he still be the same after Lucy Albright got through with him?

That was none of her business. It was obvious Nat preferred Lucy. He’d spent the night with her, or so his teammates intimated. And Nat simply blushed red as a tomato when he tried denying it. Who wouldn’t? She could name half a dozen male stars she’d spend the night with in a heartbeat if they asked.

She laughed. Star-worshipers, all of them, her included. No, she couldn’t blame Nat Owen. She prayed it didn’t change him, ruin him. Her mother had told her, before she left for New York, that no one could ruin a good man or save a bad one. You were what you were from the beginning, no matter what people thought.

Nicki believed that Nat was one of the good ones, and she’d not be revising that opinion so fast. They’d only spent a little time together, on a few “sort-of” dates at Freddie’s, usually with the rest of the infield in tow. She’d sensed the attraction right away. She’d been drawn to him from the first. He seemed to feel it, too, always finding an excuse to sit by her or walk with her.

Nicki didn’t have hang-ups about men and s*x. She had always said if a friend wanted to sleep with a guy, she should. First date, hundredth date, what difference did it make? She wasn’t hung up on superficial crap like that. But she didn’t jump in with every guy who asked, either.

And they did ask. Nicki always received at least one and often two or three propositions when she went bar-hopping with Dusty. She brushed them off like lint from a dress. She wasn’t about to get naked with some bad dude who might hurt her or break her heart.

After half an hour, her fingertips had shriveled. Nicki had never been to The Hide-Out, the club the Nighthawks’ frequented. Nat was meeting Lucy there. Curiosity stole into her heart. It was a public place, no reason Nicki couldn’t go there, too, right?

She sashayed into the living room.

“Hey, guys, how about going to The Hide-Out? I’ve never been.”

The men all talked at once.

“I’ll get my coat,” Bobby Hernandez said.

“Me, too.” Skip followed him.

“Dusty and I’ll hang here,” Matt said, a lusty look gleaming in his eyes.

“You know this horn-dog, Nick. Have fun,” Dusty said.

Her friend cornered Nicki while she shrugged her jacket on.

“Is that where Nat and Lucy are going?”

“Yeah. So? It’s a free country. I’ve never been. Want to see what all the fuss is about.”

“Just be careful, okay?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Nicki huffed, slipping out of her friend’s grasp.

“Just don’t say anything or do anything you’ll be sorry for.”

“What could I say? I’m Nicki. Miss Invisible? He’s busy with someone else. Why can’t I have fun with Bobby and Skip?”

“No reason. No reason at all. Just be careful,” Dusty said, giving her friend a hug.

“Let’s go,” Skip said, opening the door.

Nicki raised her hand, and the trio headed for the street.