Gretchen stood in the middle of a wine shop, trying to decide what to bring for dinner. She didn’t want to be too upper-crust but felt she should share a good bottle. Something from California would be best, but she also wondered if she could branch out into Old World and have it not be too much. Travis and Felicia were down-to-earth folks. Likely a good roast or casserole dinner—good, homemade food. She was looking forward to it.
“Do you think they would like white or red?” she asked as she picked up a bottle of oaked Chardonnay and frowned, setting it down again. No, that wasn’t right.
“Felicia likes her wine sparkly. She puts ice cubes in it.
Whatever you pick is going to knock their socks off. Travis prefers beer.”
Gretchen decided to gift two bottles. A Prosecco and a red.
One for Felicia, one for dinner if they so chose. A red went with most meats unless they did seafood, but sometimes a red would go well with something like paella or a rich bisque.
She was overthinking it again. She turned to look for the sales staff. They were alone in the wine shop, which was attached to a French bistro, and it was charmingly set out with the wine in wood baskets, paper packing spilling out. People came in and browsed, most walking back out. The prices were a bit high for her liking, but she knew she could get vintages here she likely could not get at one of the liquor stores on the strip.
“Excuse me? I am looking for a specific prosecco,” she said as she finally spotted a store clerk.
The young man who was unpacking a crate looked up and walked over. “What is it? We don’t carry a lot of prosecco.”
“Casa Vinicola Morando, the Ferrina, either 2015 or 2016,” she said, thinking back on what she had tasted last year. It had been the lightest and fruitiest of the proseccos she had tried. It would suit perfectly, even if you put ice cubes in it, which was a horrible thought. Then she checked herself. No judging. To each their own, right?
The clerk thought on it as they walked over to the lookup kiosk in the center of the store. He typed it in and two bottles came up, one of them a 2015. He looked back at her expectantly.
“Yes, that one, please.”
“Anything else, Miss?” he asked.
“Do you have any Blackstone Merlot? Any vintage is fine.”
He held up a finger and scooted off, bringing her back a bottle of just that. “Excellent choice. My go-to bottle for every day.
Reminds me of a ripasso. Pairs with anything, honestly.”
She hefted the bottle. “This is one of my favorite California 1merlots. I love the texture as well as the bright flavor. It doesn’t taste young, and you don’t have to set it down.”
He looked at her, seemingly impressed. “You know your wine.”
“I’m a sommelier,” Gretchen offered, shrugging. She didn’t want to be snobbish or demean his own expertise. It felt nice to be perusing and thinking about wine without teaching or advising.
After a hectic day, the stress of the courthouse fraying her nerves, it was a welcome change of pace.
“I’m studying to do that too. This job created a monster,” he added, winking. She wished he would quit flirting with her, his eyes shifting to her chest.
Josh came up behind her and took the merlot from her hand, kissing her on the cheek as if on cue. The store clerk looked at him, and then stepped away, coming back with the prosecco bottle, less excitement on his face.
“Fancy,” Josh said, eyeing the bottles, running a finger over the gold label. “Do you want to pick anything else up? We can ship it back to your place?”
She bit her lip as she shifted the prosecco into her arms. A zinfandel would be nice to take home, one she couldn’t get easily in Canada. “Do you have any Gary Farrell zin?”
“The Grist or Maffei?”
“One of each, please. I want to try them before I attempt to order a case from somewhere.”
The clerk tapped his screen and then took off, and Josh put his arm around her while she waited. “He likes you,” he murmured in her ear. His arm was tightly possessive, his hand secure on her shoulder.
“He likes that a girl can talk wine with him,” she replied. “I’m sure there’s nothing more.”
“Oh, no, darling. Your top button is undone. He likes you.”
She looked down and indeed, she was showing a bit of cleavage. She grimaced and did the button up quickly, as Josh laughed behind her, his chest shaking.
She gave him a stern look over her shoulder and moved toward the cash register. The clerk brought her two zin bottles to the counter, and Josh gave him a credit card.
“Let me,” he said and shook his head as Gretchen opened her mouth to protest. “No, really—let me.”
“Okay but keep the receipt; I can write off part of the cost of the zin as research,” she said as Josh picked up the bagged wine.
“You can do that?” he asked, surprised.
“Uh-huh.”
“I think we need to do more research then,” he quipped, plastering a cheesy grin across his face. She laughed and swatted at him.
“Thank you,” she said to the clerk and he stepped away from the register again, his attention diverted by someone else looking through a bin of bottles.
“Off to the McGoverns,” Josh said cheerily, his mood bright and playful. She looked at him and saw how relaxed he was, the change in him. He was already gorgeous, but when he was relaxed, he was something else, and it took her breath away. Had since the day he looked up at her in the airport.
“This place is good for you, you know that?” she blurted.
He turned as he reached the car and tilted his head. “You think so?” he replied, giving her a kiss that was relaxed and gentle, yet promising more later.
“You are good for me, Firecracker,” he said when he let her go, breathless and rumpled. “Now, let’s go.”
. . .
Josh swirled the last of his beer and chugged it, standing on the back deck. It was just dark, the tiny tiki patio lights glowing multicolored against the pergola they were strung from. There was traffic noise and laughter from next door. There was a slight breeze. He was enjoying every second of it.
He and Travis had talked baseball all evening—discussing the team, some of the division stats, and the Longhorns’ chances in the postseason. It was completely comfortable. On a back deck in the suburbs, drinking beer, and talking baseball. A quiet, normal evening.
Felicia laughed at something Gretchen said, and he turned to see the coach’s wife flipping the ribs on the barbecue, Gretchen wielding a basting brush as she did. They had been talking non-stop as they flitted to and from the kitchen. Gretchen reached out to peck his cheek, and he pinched her butt as she passed by him.
He turned back to Travis, who was silently turning his beer glass in his hand, watching his wife and Gretchen as well.
“Son, I gotta say, she’s a good influence on you. Harv is wrong about her.”
“Harv? What’d he say?” Josh asked. “I know he talked to her when she was here last, kind of gave her the shove to get me back on focus, but—”
“He thinks you’re gonna leave baseball because of her. He relies on you as a star on his athlete roster. You’re one of his biggest paydays,” Travis said quietly. “He’s pushing you to find another contract, but he’s mentioned free agency as well, yeah?
He’s looking to make sure you top your salary out.”
“He’s a good man, Coach. He’s helped me get where I am,”
Josh replied, interrupting him. “I understand where you’re coming from, but—”
“He was agitated about her being at the courthouse today. Said something about her butting into business not meant for her, even though having her there was a good thing.”
Josh didn’t know what to make of that. He refused to believe Harv wouldn’t be happy for him finding Gretchen, falling in love.
“Do you love her?” Travis asked, reading his mind.
“I do,” Josh said quietly, admitting it to another person for the first time. He shifted a bit on his feet. It was truly real now.
Travis grunted at that and turned to him, shaking the top of his glass at Josh. “Marry her, then. Don’t wait. Figure out the travel after. If she’s the one, don’t waste time, son.”
He blinked at the direct advice. “Coach? You okay?”
Travis twisted his lips, and then cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. Gretchen came back out and placed a bowl of corn cobs down on the table, winking at him, and the moment was over. Travis stood straight up, taking Josh’s glass out of his hand. “Get more beer,” he muttered and paced away. He was moving slowly, a hitch in one hip, and Josh frowned. When did he get old? Josh got up and poked his head in the back screen door.
“Can I help?” he called to Felicia.
“You just stand there and look gorgeous,” Felicia said back, laughing. Gretchen was pulling the ribs off the barbecue, so he took a moment, slipped in, and stood beside Felicia, who was cutting some fresh baguette to go with what looked to be bruschetta.
“What’s up with Coach?” he asked quietly. “He’s not himself, Felicia. Something’s wrong.”
Felicia’s hand tightened on the bread knife, and then she put it down. Josh put a hand on her back, sensing he had asked the 2absolute wrong question. She was quiet, clearly debating whether to tell him something. She took a big breath in and out, her face grim.
“He isn’t, Josh. He’s sick,” she blurted. “It’s his prostate.”
Shit. Josh hung his head, the news hitting him square in the chest. Cancer. She didn’t have to say it. There was usually only one thing an older man had go wrong with that body part.
“How long?” he asked.
“We don’t know. We only found out a couple of months ago,” she said, then looked him square in the eye. “The staff and team do not know, honey. He doesn’t want them to.”
“Shit,” Josh swore. “I’m sorry.”
He encircled Felicia with his arms, needing the hug more than wanting to comfort her. The weight of the news on him, the idea that Coach would be sidelined by this—let alone have to leave the Neons—sunk in and he cleared his throat, trying to lock the emotion away so he wouldn’t lose it. Travis had been the manager there for years, even before Josh had found his rookie feet in Boston. It would be a huge blow to the organization as a whole.
“What can I do?” he murmured, finally gaining some control.
“I want to help.”
“You are helping, honey. He’s always had a soft spot for you, coming into the league by your own bootstraps, working your little tush off to make it big. You’re practically family, considering the number of times you’ve stayed with us. That you’re here, now?
It raised his spirits a bunch.”
“But—”
“No buts, honey. He’s a grown man. He’ll fight it. Just be his friend,” Felicia said firmly, let him go, and then picked up the knife, continuing to cut slices off the bread. She added as he 2turned to go back outside, “The offer still stands, Josh. You fit here. When you’re tired of the glam up there in the big leagues, think about us and the good you could do.”
Josh stood for a moment inside the kitchen. Was nothing ever easy? Despite the stress of Neptune’s arrest, it had been easily handled, and he’d had Gretchen by his side. But now, here was a new stress to weigh him down, on top of his potential IL if his checkups weren’t good. It felt like he was riding a roller coaster.
“Fuck,” he swore softly and squared his shoulders. Well, he’d deal with this too. Coach was too damned important to him.
He caught Travis’s eye as they sat for dinner on the deck, and Travis looked at Felicia, then back at him and thinned his lips.
Gretchen was uncorking her red wine and filling glasses. The candle flames were dancing in the breeze. The normal, comfortable feeling was gone, and he took a deep breath. He had to say something but now was not the right time.
“You told him, didn’t you, woman,” Travis snapped abruptly.
“He’s not stupid. He practically guessed, Travis. Yes, I did.
Now do you want a full or half rack to start?” Felicia said matter-of-factly, leveling her gaze at him.
Gretchen looked between the two of them, confused. Josh picked up her hand, folding it into his, thankful for the anchor.
He looked at Travis, studying the man, seeing the stress from him, understanding it for the first time.
“I have cancer,” Travis said.
Gretchen’s mouth formed an O, and she squeezed Josh’s hand.
As Felicia filled their plates, she continued squeezing. He lifted his glass, the scent of the wine appealing. He needed a drink to steady his nerves. He held his glass up farther, and the other three joined him.
“To kicking cancer’s ass, Coach. If you can whip a bunch of green-eared punks into a good team, you can beat this bullshit.”
Travis was silent, then shook his head, a smile ghosting across his lips as he took a sip, his eyebrows rising as he tasted the wine.
The rest of the dinner went well. Felicia exclaimed three times how nice the wine tasted and wrote down the name on her grocery list after her second glass. Travis finished his glass, which made Felicia stare at her husband in shock.
They stayed outside after Felicia had forced apple pie on them.
Travis had gone into the house to grab playing cards, and it was just Josh and Gretchen looking out into the night sky. The cicadas slowly appeared, weaving through the rosebushes and grass in the garden, making their noise as the light completely left the sky.
Gretchen leaned her head on his shoulder. The peaceful feeling had returned, thankfully.
“Can we capture this moment forever?” she sighed. “I know the news you got tonight sucks, but this is really, really relaxing.”
Josh hummed a response and squeezed her. It was. There was more to them than just sex, and the roller coaster of emotions the day had given him was making him think thoughts he shouldn’t right now.
They played Euchre out on the back deck, Felicia draining the bottle of Prosecco that Gretchen had bought, much to Gretchen’s delight. As they were leaving, Josh shook Travis’s hand, then pulled him into an uncharacteristic hug. The older man stiffened but then relaxed, welcoming the gesture.
“I won’t say anything, but think about it. You should. Look how that team rallied around Nep today. Let people help, Coach.
You aren’t done yet,” he said in Travis’s ear.
It felt like the world to him when Travis squeezed him harder, then let him go. “You’ve become a good man, son. Thank you.”
“If you need me, you call, right?” he said to both Travis and Felicia, winking. “You always ask me to stay. Maybe next time I will. You’ve got a good thing here.”
Laughs all around at that statement, more hugs, and then they were walking out toward the car, parked on the street.
“Hotel?” Josh asked.
“Can we go see the fountains? It’s a hot night, and I’d love to walk the strip for a bit,” Gretchen replied.
“Sounds perfect.”