Alex woke the next morning to bright sun streaming into the bedroom of his Nob Hill apartment. The storm had passed, and it was a clear day in San Francisco. He ran a hand over the stubble on his face and then slid his legs over the side of the bed. Already he ached in muscles he’d forgotten he had, muscles evidently specialized for wrangling sea lions and not accustomed to use otherwise. He rubbed his elbow where he’d jammed it while operating the winch.
He took in a breath and rotated his wrist. At least he hadn’t torqued it.
Winching whales was not an exclusion clause in his contract, but if the front office heard about it, they’d probably try to add one in next year. The thought of them working on the language made him laugh. As he did, he felt the pull along his ribs. Not good.
What he needed was a strong cup of coffee and a couple of ibuprofen—the time-tested breakfast of champions. He tugged on his jeans and pulled on a favorite T-shirt. Sabrina kept him in T-shirts from her favorite causes. He’d once calculated that given the extent of his sister’s donations, each shirt cost about $8,000. This one was from a 10K run for endangered frogs. The cartoon on the front made him smile.
When he reached the kitchen, the stench caught him off guard.
His crumpled overcoat sat heaped on the floor like a deflated balloon, right where he’d peeled it off in the wee hours before dawn. Gage had driven him home. God knows how long he would’ve had to wait for a cab to find its way out to the headlands if any cabbie had been willing to go out at all. He grabbed a trash bag from a drawer in the kitchen island and stuffed the stinking coat into it. The image of the big sea lion hauling its head back and sneezing on him was too fresh to be funny. At the time, he wasn’t sure which one of them was the more surprised. He stared at his shoes, then chucked them in with the coat and tied off the bag. At least they were evidence that he hadn’t dreamed the whole adventure.
Though he had dreamed, he remembered. Multiple times. And Jackie had wound through all of them. He had the very unnerving feeling that the images of the night before, the images of her, just might haunt his day.
His body stirred as he remembered the feel of her in his arms. He’d liked her laugh, a laugh that opened up the space before it as if carving out territory of its own. She’d treated him like a normal person, no conniving or bowing and scraping. It’d been too long since he’d felt that from a woman.
The strange ache that stirred in him as he poured his coffee was more than bruised ribs. Something new prowled in him, something that had been sleeping, something he’d kept stuffed down for a very long time.
He downed the coffee and tried to ignore the tension in his belly. But the coffee didn’t help put the images of one feisty marine mammal vet out of his mind. He cursed against the rim of the mug.
He rummaged in his gear bag and found his phone. Before he thought, he’d pulled up the website for the California Marine Mammal Center and found Gage’s phone number.
Gage answered on the second ring.
“It’s Alex.”
“Man, you saved our butts last night.”
“I thought we saved a whale.”
Gage laughed. “Well, that too.”
“How’s the good doctor Jackie doing?” He tried to sound casual. He was just testing the waters, after all. It should’ve felt easier.
“She’s on her way to the Farallons. I avoid all rescues that involve breeding grounds of great white sharks. It’s in my contract,” he added with a laugh. “Besides, I wouldn’t want to be on that boat. It may only be a couple hours, but Jackie barfs the whole way.”
“Does she ever take time off?”
Gage guffawed.
“I take it that’s a no.”
“She’s all work except for when she’s rock climbing. That’s a crazy sport if you ask me.” He paused. “Made an impression, did she?”
Leave it to a Canadian to get bluntly to the point.
“If you want to get anywhere near her,” Gage said, “you’ll have to volunteer.”
“Do you get a finder’s fee for recruiting?”
“Only if the guy is healthy and over six feet. Saves my back when I have to wrestle bull sea lions.”
Alex heard him take in a breath.
“Think about it. We could use a guy like you.”
His earnestness caught Alex off guard. There was an awkward pause as he tried to think of a response.
“Look, Jackie’s not a crackable nut. Not that I’ve seen. But I meant what I said. We could use your help.”
Alex made some lame excuse about being too busy to volunteer and ended the call. It was actually true, but it still sounded lame.
He checked the clock on his phone. Barely enough time to call Emilio and sort out irrigation plans for the vines they’d grafted and get to the ballpark on time.
He decided not to mention his reasons for missing their meeting that morning. Rescuing a whale and chasing down a woman were likely not equal in Emilio’s eyes to caring for one’s crops. Emilio was old fashioned. He’d argue that Alex had to see the layout of the vines to have a true sense of what was needed. And he’d be right. But for now, a phone call would have to do.
By the time the call was done, a familiar guilt had chewed a knot into Alex’s gut.
It’d been a fight, but Alex had persuaded Emilio to bring in an irrigation consultant and two more crews to handle the bulk of the spring work. But even with expert help, there were details to running a place like Trovare that required Alex’s attention—details he was determined to handle efficiently and not let get in the way of his game. Not again.
Some days he wondered what he was scrambling to prove.
With nine years on the All-Star team as proof, he’d had a good run at the game. But he wanted to win the batting title, wanted it more than he’d remembered wanting anything, wanted it in a way that secretly embarrassed him. Winning the Triple Crown was something he had to prove to himself. Just the thought of failure made the knot in his gut cinch tighter. If he was going to go out, he wanted to go out on top.
He took in a deep breath, released it slowly, grabbed his gear bag and headed out. Hitting a few over the wall would clear his head. It always did.