There was the brutal collision of flesh and bone, the swirl of choking dust, the hysterical screams of fans and teammates. He heard Shane grunt as his elbow whipped around to catch his brother in the ribs, beside the padded catcher’s vest. He saw stars as some bony part, probably Shane’s knee, caught him beside the ear.
But what he heard over it all was the glorifying call of “Safe!”
“I’ll be damned.” Shane had managed to hold on to the ball that Jared had bulleted to him, even after the nasty collision. “I tagged the sucker,” Shane insisted, waving the ball for emphasis.
Cy, the umpire, hung tough. “You weren’t on the plate, Shane. Devin was. You didn’t get the tag in time.”
That, of course, was tantamount to a declaration of war.
From the sidelines, Savannah watched the very polished attorney Jared MacKade go nose-to-nose with the town’s mayor, while her brothers-in-law shouted at each other, and anyone else who happened to get in the way.
“I love picnics,” Savannah commented.
“Mmm… Me too.” Regan stretched her arms. “They’re so relaxing.” She smiled up at Cassie, who stepped under the shade with them. “Don’t worry,” she said, noting the way Cassie hugged her arms. “They won’t hurt each other. Very much.”
“I know.” She tried not to be so poor-spirited. The MacKades were always yelling. But she hugged herself tighter when she saw Connor and Bryan race up to get a piece of the action.
“Don’t worry,” Regan said again.
“No, I won’t.”
It was good, wasn’t it, that Connor could race and shout that way? He’d been too quiet for too long. Too worried, she thought guiltily. He was coming into himself more and more every day. And if picking sides over a baseball call made him happy, then no, she wouldn’t let herself worry.
It was over soon enough, with vows of revenge and retaliation. She watched Bryan do a victory boogie, then nag until he was allowed up to the plate. Devin picked up a mitt, bent over and said something that had Connor goggling with pleasure. Her son raced into the outfield and joined the game.
“He’s awfully good with children,” Cassie murmured. “Devin,” she added.
“Every time he comes by the house, he has Nate on his hip the minute he steps through the door.” Regan smiled down at her son, who was busy chewing on a bright red teething ring. “He’s bleeding.”
Alarmed, Cassie looked down at Nate. “Where?”
“No, I meant Devin. His mouth’s bleeding. Anyone got a tissue?”
“I do.” Cassie pulled one out of her pocket.
As she hurried over to where Devin was walking to the outfield, Regan grinned. “She hasn’t figured it out yet, has she?”
“Nope.” Savannah leaned back against the tree. Layla was napping, and that seemed like a wonderful idea. “He’s going to have to do something a little more obvious for her to realize he’s crazy about her.”
“He’s the only MacKade I know who moves slow.”
Savannah arched a brow before she closed her eyes. “I’ll bet he moves fast enough when the time comes. Cassie won’t have a chance.”
“No,” Regan said softly. “She’ll have the best chance of her life.”
Out of breath from the effort of catching up with his long strides, Cassie called out, “Devin! Wait a minute!”
He glanced around, saw her rushing after him and did what he’d trained himself to do. He put his hands in his pockets. “What?”
“Your mouth. Gosh, you must be all leg,” she managed, puffing, when she stopped in front of him.
“My mouth?”
“It’s bleeding.” In practiced maternal gestures, she dabbed at the corner of his mouth. “I saw you dive headfirst into Shane. I had to close my eyes. You’re lucky you only cut your lip doing something that crazy. It’s only a game.”
“It’s baseball,” he reminded her, and struggled not to groan as her fingers gently soothed the wound he hadn’t even been aware of. “I got the run.”
“Yes, I know. I’m learning all the rules and terms. RBIs and ERAs. Connor’s so excited about playing. It was sweet of you to let him go into left field.”