Charming the Shortstop Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Belltown Six Pack Series

  Charming the Shortstop

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  More Belltown Six Pack Novels

  About Heather B. Moore

  Copyright © 2019 by Heather B. Moore

  E-book edition

  All rights reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form whatsoever without prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief passages embodied in critical reviews and articles. This is a work of fiction. The characters, names, incidents, places, and dialogue are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.

  Interior design by Cora Johnson

  Edited by Kelsey Down and Lisa Shepherd

  Cover design by Rachael Anderson

  Cover image credit: Deposit Photos #30365895

  Published by Mirror Press, LLC

  BELLTOWN SIX PACK SERIES

  Hitching the Pitcher

  Falling for Centerfield

  Charming the Shortstop

  Snatching the Catcher

  Flirting with First

  Kissing on Third

  Dear Reader,

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  Heather B. Moore

  CHARMING THE SHORTSTOP

  He’s not looking. She’s been burned. But sparks fly, and they decide to go on a date. Just this once.

  When professional baseball player Axel Diaz travels back to Belltown University for a friend’s wedding, he’s not planning on bringing a date. Until he meets Brighton West, the flight attendant who he can’t get off his mind. Although dubbed “Cold Axe” by some of his female fans, Axel asks Brighton to be his date to the wedding, all the while wondering why of all times and places he is breaking his no-dating streak. But the more he gets to know Brighton, the more he realizes she may be the one woman who can melt his cold heart.

  CHAPTER 1

  “I’m at the Seattle airport now,” Axel Diaz told Sawyer Bennett, his former college teammate and currently the bossiest person alive. “I don’t need you to go all mom on me, Skeeter.” Everyone called Sawyer Bennett, pitcher extraordinaire, Skeeter.

  As for Axel, he’d been called Axe Man for as long as he could remember. Even before baseball. He supposed his dad had started the nickname, although Axel tried not to think about his dad.

  Skeeter chuckled, but there was little humor in it. “The wedding is tomorrow, and speaking of moms, mine is freaking out. She wants everyone at the rehearsal dinner tonight.”

  “I’ll be there,” Axel said as he gazed out the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Seattle Airport, at the drizzling spring rain. Thankfully, last night’s game had been dry. “I fly into Belltown at five p.m. and the dinner isn’t until six. Plenty of time.”

  Skeeter groaned. “I knew you’d be late.”

  “I won’t be late,” Axel said again. Skeeter was a goofball most of the time, but he could be intense when he needed to—a trait he got from his mother, who they all called Mamma Sal. She was getting married to a great guy—finally—and she’d invited the Six Pack to the wedding.

  Axel and Skeeter made up two of the Six Pack, along with four others of their best friends: Grizz, Big Dawg, Rabbit, and Steal. Yeah, those were nicknames for the top baseball players to come out of Belltown University in Belltown, Massachusetts. Although they were all from different parts of the country, they’d bonded fast on the college baseball team. And then, four years ago, after winning the College World Series for the third time in a row, the Six Pack had been called up to the major leagues in the same round.

  It had made national news—hell, international news—and made the six of them something like college-town heroes. All pomp and circumstance, of course. But Axel wasn’t one to complain about his $4.5 million contract as the shortstop for the Seattle Sharks.

  Skeeter was still complaining about Axel’s changed flight. “We’re all headed to The Glass Onion for lunch and drinks today, and you’re missing that,” Skeeter said.

  “Sorry, man,” Axel said. “When I got home from the game last night, my mom and sister got into a colossal fight over some guy who wanted to take my sister out for ice cream at eleven. So I had to go to my mom’s and do some damage control.”

  “Is everything okay?” Skeeter asked, his voice less demanding now.

  “Yes and no,” Axel said. “The crisis is averted, but Silvia is still fifteen and half in love with a senior.”

  “Ouch.” Skeeter sighed. “I’m glad my sister, Rachel, is out of those teen years. But you’re a good brother to Silvia, that’s for sure.”

  The words were nice to hear, but that didn’t dispel the guilt Axel had over being gone so much during his four years at college. It was one of the reasons he’d bought his mom a condo in his same complex in Seattle. He could be a lot closer to them and be part of his little sister’s life. Their dad had bailed on the family when Silvia was two, so she barely remembered him.

  Axel wasn’t so lucky. He had twelve years of memories of his dad.

  “Anything else going on that I should be aware of?” Skeeter asked. “You know my mom opened the invitation for anyone to bring a plus-one to the wedding.”

  “I think they just announced boarding,” Axel said.

  “Right,” Skeeter said with a scoff. “Every time I bring up dating, you change the subject or suddenly have to get off the phone.”

  Axel couldn’t deny that.

  “You know,” Skeeter continued, “having a girlfriend wouldn’t be the biggest crime in life, Axe Man.”

  “I’ve had girlfriends,” Axel said. He really should get off the phone. This conversation never went anyplace good.

  “Name one.”

  Axel placed his hand on the cool glass. “Define girlfriend.”

  “A woman who you date exclusively for more than a week,” Skeeter said. “You might even confess your undying love and devotion for her at some point. She becomes more important than most things in your life, second only to baseball.”

  Despite himself, Axel smiled. “That’s a pretty tall order. By that definition, no, I’ve never had a girlfriend. But I don’t see how that’s anyone’s business.”

  “Women and baseball are always my business,” Skeeter said. “One of these days, a woman is going to knock you over, and you won’t know how to get up.”

  “Doubt it,” Axel deadpanned. “One of these days I might be looking. Maybe after Silvia gets married.”

  “You can’t put things off forever, Axe.”

  Axel rubbed a hand over the scruff on his chin. Most of his baseball teammates wore full beards, but he didn’t like the upkeep. So he shaved every few days, not staying completely clean-shaven bu
t avoiding the full-beard look too. His reflection in the window only told him that he could use more sleep. “Why so many questions?”

  “No reason,” Skeeter said. “But if Mom introduces you to a few ladies at the wedding, don’t be surprised.”

  Axel dropped his hand. “Uh. Mamma Sal’s going to be busy getting married. Not playing matchmaker.”

  “You know my mom,” Skeeter said. “A multitasker.”

  Axel blew out a breath. “I’m coming in for the wedding, nothing else.”

  “All right, grouch,” Skeeter said, amusement in his tone. “See you tonight. And don’t be late.”

  Axel hung up with Skeeter just as the boarding for first class was announced. He pulled up his boarding ticket on his phone and made his way to the gate. As he walked onto the plane, he asked the first flight attendant he saw—a guy named Gabe, according to his name tag—“Is there anyone sitting by me?”

  Gabe pulled up something on his phone. “No, sir, you’re the only one on your row.”

  “Great, thanks,” Axel said, settling onto the plush leather. If there was one perk he enjoyed about making good money, it was flying first class. The only time he flew coach now was when he was traveling with his mom and sister—and mostly because his mom insisted so that his sister wouldn’t grow up too spoiled.

  But it was a concept Axel had struggled with. At times he was another parent to Silvia, since he also felt responsible she didn’t have a father in her life. So Axel wanted to both make up for that fact and help her become a rational, well-adjusted adult.

  Other passengers started to board, and Axel turned his attention to the window. Outside, it was still drizzling, and he watched as a couple of cargo trucks drove away from the plane. They’d probably just loaded the baggage onto the plane. He’d send a quick text to Silvia to let her know that he was thinking of her and to ask if she wanted something from Belltown. She was probably still mad at him, but that was something Axel had experienced plenty of times before.

  Silvia texted back a minute later: Can you get me one of those Lumberjack hats?

  Axel smiled. Silvia asking him to bring her a hat was definitely an icebreaker. Sure, he texted. Do you want the red or black one?

  Red.

  You got it, he texted. Then he added, Go easy on Mom while I’m gone. See you in a few days. Tonight was a bye game, and the Sharks would be playing the Colorado Indians next, so Axel would fly from Belltown to Colorado right after the wedding festivities.

  See you.

  No other reply, which meant no other drama. She hadn’t said no to the request of looking after their mom, so Axel took that as a good sign.

  “Excuse me, sir?” a young male voice said.

  Axel looked up from the window. A kid of about twelve stood next to the empty chair, holding out a piece of paper. “Can you sign this?”

  Pretty much everywhere he went in Seattle, Axel was recognized and asked for an autograph. At first, it had been a heady feeling. Uncomfortable too. But now he was used to it and didn’t think twice.

  “Sure, do you have a pen?” Axel asked.

  The boy’s face reddened. “Um, yeah,” he said, fishing out a pen from his pocket.

  “What’s your name?” Axel did a quick scan of the kid—it was something he did whenever he met a young teen boy—looking for old bruises, healed cuts, that haunted look—

  “Uh, Lance, sir.”

  Axel looked down at the paper, trying to dispel thoughts of his twelve-year-old self. He wrote the kid’s name, then a short message. His standard message was, Hope to see you at a game. The Axe Man. Another thing he’d had to get used to. Signing his nickname.

  He handed the paper back. “Do you play baseball, Lance?”

  “Yes, sir,” Lance said, his face adding another layer of red. “I’m a shortstop.”

  Axel extended his hand to fist-bump the kid. “Nice. Keep up the hard work.”

  After the kid left, Axel turned back to the window. He clenched his hands, then forced himself to relax his fingers. It seemed the memory of his father would always be triggered when Axel met boys Lance’s age, because the last time Axel had seen his father, it was after Axel had finally stood up for himself. With a bat.

  His mother had called the cops, and his father was hauled off, leaving Axel with the usual bumps and bruises. His father was released from jail a few days later, but he never came home. That hadn’t stopped him from cleaning out their bank account though.

  Axel’s mother had told him over and over that it wasn’t his fault, that his father had made his own choices, that he’d belonged in jail. But Axel had heard her crying every night for the next year. And the sound had ripped his heart in two.

  So, Skeeter, he wished he could say, I’ll probably never have a girlfriend. I don’t have a whole heart to give to anyone. And my mother and sister are taking up what’s left.

  CHAPTER 2

  “You’ve got to check out seat 3A,” Gabe told Brighton as she straightened the last row on the 717 airplane. “He’s a tiger if I ever saw one.”

  Brighton turned to face her best friend and folded her arms. “I’ve heard that before.”

  “I’m not lying, I swear.” Gabe winked.

  Which only made it harder for Brighton to take him seriously. Gabe always compared everyone and everything to animals, which included airline passengers. She loved it when she and Gabe worked the same flights. Gabe kept her sane, kept her entertained, and always made her laugh. He also pushed the envelope against Swift Airlines. Their strict dress and grooming codes had taken getting used to, but Brighton would rather work for a smaller airline over a major carrier. She hated overnight flights, and Swift only flew during daytime hours. So she followed the rules and kept her navy uniform impeccable, complete with the navy-and-white scarf and small pearl earrings. Yes, all the female flight attendants were required to wear pearl earrings—issued at the orientation training.

  The men weren’t supposed to wear earrings, but Gabe had argued his case with the Human Resources Director, and he was allowed to wear a single gold hoop. Almost too small to notice. He’d also made a case for men’s facial hair, and he currently sported a goatee.

  “Sorry, I’ve sworn off first class, remember?” Brighton said, reaching up to touch his chin. “I like the goatee. Very cute.”

  Gabe released an exaggerated sigh. “I’d still rather go full beard.”

  She refrained from rolling her eyes. “What is it with men and beards? I mean, I get it in the winter, no-shave-November, or whatever. But less is more in this case. Your goatee is perfect. Scruff I can deal with too.”

  Gabe wriggled his eyebrows. “Then you’ve really got to check out 3B. Just sayin’. He’s got the classic scruff going.”

  “I thought you said 3A.”

  He laughed. “Just making sure you’re paying attention. Now get back to work. The herd approacheth.”

  Brighton smirked. She looked down the aisle, and sure enough, the loading for the main cabin had started. And... it was go time.

  She moved down the aisle toward a woman in her sixties who’d somehow gotten away with an extra bulky carry-on. She wore a satchel over her shoulder, along with a backpack over the other shoulder, in addition to her luggage. And now the woman was struggling to lift the carry-on into the overhead bin. There was a good reason for size restrictions on baggage.

  “I can help you with that,” Brighton said and reached for the handle. The line of passengers behind the woman was already backing up. Moments later, Brighton had the rather heavy carry-on securely stowed and the woman settled into her window seat.

  Brighton continued along the aisle, directing people to the empty overhead bins, assisting a few of them and answering several questions. When she passed by the older woman again, the woman said, “How long is the flight, miss?”

  Brighton appreciated being called miss even though she was twenty-eight. “Three hours and forty-five minutes to Chicago.”

  “Ah,” the woman
said. “I’ll have a chance to get a good start on my new Kindle book. Do you like to read?”

  Brighton didn’t have time to be chatty. “I do,” she simply said. “If you need anything else, let me know.” The classic dismissal she was quick to implement when passengers wanted to chat.

  The boarding went quickly and efficiently, thanks to Brighton and the other flight attendants. They had the airline company’s reputation to uphold: swift and classy. Soon, the pilot gave his welcome and brief instructions, then it was time for the standard emergency demonstration.

  Brighton took her place toward the front of the economy cabin. Gabe was in first class and had already drawn the curtain between the two sections of the plane. The other flight attendant, Tonya, stood halfway up the aisle to demonstrate for the latter half of the plane. Although the airline only seated about 130 passengers, Swift never under booked its flight attendants.

  The only person who actually watched the safety demonstration was the older woman. Oh, and two men who were sitting together on row fourteen. They looked to be in their thirties. One man was balding, and the other had eyebrows that were dangerously close to a unibrow.

  But they were both leering at her, and Brighton felt the familiar clench in her gut. Part of her job was effectively ignoring any men who thought that she spent her off hours working at Hooters.

  Brighton had heard all the pickup lines. Can I get a drink and your phone number? Are you on Snapchat? Is there a no-dating policy between stewardesses and passengers? Oh, and her favorite: I can show you how to fly, baby.

  She’d heard the same type of lines so many times that it made her wonder if there was an app for them.

  With the emergency demo over, Brighton walked along the aisle, doing a final inspection of fastened seatbelts, closed trays, and upright seats.

  “Your name’s Brighton?” asked the half-bald man in seat 14C.

  Sometimes she hated her name tag. A day never went by without someone commenting on her name. Her parents had named her after a ski resort they’d visited on their honeymoon in Utah.