Eighteen years earlier
Jericho stood at the plate, bat held high. His hips shifting back and forth, his body relaxed. He waited for the pitch.
Jericho’s team was down by one. Tim Ward was on third base and another player on second with two men out. It would be the last inning unless they were able to get some runs on the board.
Fisher sat beside his dad on the bleacher and called out encouragement. “You can do it, Jericho.”
His yell was followed by Macy’s from where she sat a few feet away and a row down from them. “Go-o-o, Jericho-o. One little hit.”
She sat beside Jericho’s latest girlfriend. He couldn’t remember her name because Jericho never kept a girl for too long, much like him. The Yates boys were love ’em and leave ’em kinds of guys, he thought.
Macy, on the other hand, wasn’t a love ’em and leave ’em type of girl. Until recently, everyone thought she and Tim were a forever kind of thing what with them going off to college together. Except that in the past few weeks, Macy and Tim didn’t seem to be a thing anymore, which meant that Tim had loved her and left her. That struck him as downright stupid.
The crack of the bat pulled his attention away from thoughts of Macy.
Jericho had lined a rocket of a hit up the first baseline and deep into the corner of the stadium. Tim would score easily to tie the game, but as people got up on the bleachers and started cheering, it was clear the ball was deep enough to maybe score the man from second.
The outfielder picked up the ball and with all his might sent it flying home, but the man from second was already well on his way to the plate. The ball sailed past the catcher as the man slid into home to win the game.
The wild cheering and revelry of the hometown crowd spurred on the players who ran out onto the field to celebrate the victory. After a few moments of exuberant celebration, both the players and the crowd finally quieted down and the players formed a line to shake hands with the other team.
As they did so, the crowd began to disperse from the stands.
“I’ll see you at home, son,” his dad said, clapped him on the back and waved at Jericho on the field.
He jumped down from the bleachers and weaved through the crowd of well-wishers until he reached Jericho, whose new girlfriend was already plastered to his hip.
Tim and Macy stood across from one another awkwardly, clearly no longer a forever kind of thing and surprisingly, he was kind of glad about that.
“Hey, big bro,” Jericho said as he joined them. “Tim, Cindy and I are heading to Bill’s for a post-baseball bash. Want to come hang with us?”
All three of them, but not Macy? he wondered and shot a glance at her as she stood there, hands laced primly together in front of her.
“No thanks, lil’ bro. Just came down to say congrats on winning the game.”
“We’ve gotta run. What about you, Mace?” Jericho said, either clearly oblivious to the tension between his two friends or choosing to ignore it.
“I’ve got…things to do,” she replied, peeking up at him from the corner of her eye.
“We’re history, then,” Jericho said and left with Cindy bumping hips with him on one side and Tim on the other.
He jammed the tips of his fingers into the pockets of his jeans and rocked back on the heels of his boots, hesitant now that he and Macy were alone. “So what’s so important for you to have to do on a Friday night?”
A blast of pink brightened her cheeks before she straightened her shoulders and faced him head on, determination in her brown-eyed gaze. “Well, since it’s early, I was thinking of maybe grabbing a bite at Miss Sue’s. Are you hungry?” After she asked, she worried her bottom lip with her teeth, belying her nervousness around him.
He was hungry, but not necessarily for anything other than a taste of that luscious bottom lip. Years earlier he’d had a taste during what was supposed to be a chaste holiday kiss, but he had underestimated the potency of her kiss. That encounter had made him realize that like Tim, he had been smitten by tomboy Macy Ward.
“I’m hungry, but won’t Tim mind, you know…you and me. Friday night. Dinner.”
She cocked her head at him defiantly. “What I do is no longer any of Tim’s concern. So, dinner?”
Interesting, he thought, but quickly offered her his arm. “Dinner it is. My treat.”
He wanted to lick the plate of the last remnants of Miss Sue’s famous apple cobbler, but his dad had raised him to be a gentleman so he held back.
Macy must have seen the hunger that remained in his gaze since she offered up the last few bites of the pie on her plate. “You can finish mine.”
His mouth watered at the site of those extra pieces, but he shook his head. “I couldn’t take the last of your dessert.”
“Go ahead. I need to watch my figure anyway,” she said, moving aside his plate and pushing hers before him.
Fisher dug into the cobbler, but after he swallowed a bite, he said, “Seems to me you’re worrying for nothing, Mace.”
Truth be told, she had a wonderful figure. Trim and strong, but with womanly curves in all the right places. As he thought about that, he shifted in his seat as his jeans tightened painfully. He had imagined those curves next to him once too often since that fateful kiss.
“Something wrong, Fisher?” she asked, innocently unaware of the effect she had on him.
“Not at all,” he lied, quickly finished the cobbler and paid the tab.
With his hand on the small of her back, he walked her out to the sidewalk where they stood there for a moment, enjoying the early summer night. Dusk was just settling in, bringing with it the cooler night air and the soft intimate glow of the streetlights along Main Street.
“Thank you for dinner,” Macy said, glad for not only the fine food, but his company. He had always been a distant fourth musketeer to their little group and tonight she had been able to enjoy his presence without interference.
As he turned to look at her, she noticed the gleam in his green eyes. The kind of gleam that kicked her heart up into a hurried little beat. She might have been going out with Tim for as long as she could remember, but she could still recognize when a man found her attractive. And considering her breakup with Tim, it was a welcome balm that someone as attractive as Fisher appeared to be interested.
He smiled, his teeth white against his tanned skin and his dark five o’clock shadow. He was the kind of man who needed to shave more than twice a day. He was a man, she reminded herself, trying to ignore the pull of her attraction to him. Nothing like Jericho and Tim, even though Fisher was only two years older. There had always been a maturity and intensity about him that had set him apart from the others.
“It’s early still,” he said, the tones of his voice a soft murmur in the coming quiet of the night.
“It is,” she said.
He
