Page 25 of Going Deep (Odyssey #3)

Sean’s brows shot up. “ That was tanking?”

“Just the last few,” she replied, a polite smile on her lips to acknowledge Sean , then turned to Michael with a questioning look.

“Sean, this is Ginger . Ginger , Sean . He’s an old friend.”

Sean grinned. “ Nice to meet you, Ginger . You ever play organized ball?”

“Nice to meet you too, and yes.”

Michael chuckled. “ Sean coaches a summer league team. Brace yourself for a recruitment pitch.”

“Oh.” Ginger smiled. “ That’s nice. Beer league ball, I presume?”

“Beer league?”

“Yeah. Run around for a couple of hours pretending to play so you have an excuse to go for beer.”

“Actually, we try to take it more seriously than that .”

“Really?”

Michael set a hand on her waist, drawing her in to his side. “ I can vouch for Sean’s team, if not the rest of the league.”

Sean crossed his arms over his chest. “ How’s your defense?”

“Better than my offense.”

“Position?”

“Catcher and shortstop.” She frowned. “ Actually , I’ve played every position except third base.”

Sean turned to Michael with something akin to awe shining in his eyes. “ I think I’m in love.”

Michael laughed as Sean turned back to Ginger .

“The season’s over this year,” he told her, “but we start up again in early May . Think about it.”

“I will.” She smiled. “ It might be fun to play on a team again.”

A shout made Sean wince. “ I gotta go. The kids will tear this place up if I’m not careful.”

“Good to see you.” Michael held out a hand.

“You too, man. Ginger .” He released Michael’s hand and took hers with a wink. “ A true pleasure. You decide you want to play, call me. Michael’s got my number.”

“I’ll do that.”

Sean trotted away into a gaggle of about a dozen teenage boys, and Ginger turned to Michael . “ Jeez , how many kids does he have?”

“They’re not his, at least biologically,” Michael explained. “ He works at a community center, and he brings some of the kids here a few times a week.”

“Oh, that’s nice.” She hoisted her bat onto her shoulder. “ I’m starving.”

“Then I’ll feed you,” he said and grabbed her free hand. “ Burgers ?”

“Sounds perfect,” she said as they started out. “ What’s the community center called?”

“What?”

“The one Sean works at,” she said as they cleared the cages and began the walk to the parking lot. “ What’s its name?”

“Ah, the Killingsworth Chicago Family Center ,” he said, and tightened his grip on her hand when she stumbled. “ You okay?”

“Just fine,” she said and kept walking.

Ginger bit into the burger with a sigh of delight. “ Red meat. Yum .”

Michael smiled. “ Good ?”

“Oh, yeah,” she mumbled. She glanced around while she chewed. The bar was paneled in dark wood, poorly lit, and the food was first rate. “ I like this place. It feels very Chicago .”

He picked up his beer for a long drink. “ How does something feel Chicago ?”

She shrugged. “ I don’t know, it just does. Can I try your beer?”

“Sure.” He passed it over, watched her take a small sip. “ Well ?”

“It’s nice.”

He took the glass back. “ Want me to order you one?”

She shook her head. “ I’ll stick with pop. Tell me about this community center Sean works at.”

He set the glass down, picked up his burger. “ Why ? Are you looking to take a financial literacy class?”

“I could probably use one.” In the dim light of the bar, he could see the interest in her blue eyes. “ Is that the kind of class they offer?”

“Among other things.”

“What other things?” she prompted.

“I don’t know that much about it,” Michael hedged, and it wasn’t a complete lie. They had a very competent director who handled all that. He tried his best to keep up, but he was just the figurehead. “ Sean’s the one who works there, not me.”

“Well, give me Sean’s number and I’ll ask him.”

“Why do you want to know?” Michael hedged, because she was getting Sean’s number over his dead body.

First , because Sean would spill the beans about his family foundation owning the damn center in the first five minutes.

And second, because there had been more than interest in her baseball skills in the man’s eyes.

“Because I want to find out if they’re hiring.”

“I don’t think they have much call for high-school English teachers.”

“Ha, ha. For your information, I’m not looking for a teaching job.”

“You aren’t?”

She shook her head. “ I’m burnt out on teaching. But I have a master’s in education, and that might be worth something to the—what was it again?”

“The Killingsworth Chicago Family Center ,” he supplied. “ But they just call it the Center .”

“Right. If they’re hiring, do you think Sean would put in a good word for me?”

“I’m sure he would.” If he needed to, which he didn’t. “ Give me your resume, and I’ll pass it along to him.”

“Would you?” She beamed at him. “ That would be great.”

“No problem.”

“Thanks, Michael .”

“You’re welcome.” He polished off his beer, watching her over the rim of the glass. “ If you stay in Chicago , you can join Sean’s softball team next year.”

“Maybe,” she said with a frown. “ If they take it seriously enough. I’m not playing in some league where nobody gives a shit if they win or not.”

Amused, he nodded at her plate. “ You finished eating?”

She glanced down at her plate. Her burger was gone, and she’d eaten all but a few fries. “ I guess so.”

“Good.” He pushed back his plate and signaled for the check. “ My turn.”

“Your turn for what?”

“You got to pick the batting cage, now we do what I want to do.”

“I don’t remember agreeing to that,” she said, anticipation shining in her eyes.

He sent her a slow smile and watched her eyes dilate. “ I didn’t ask.”