Fielder's Choice by Pamela Aares Read Free Book Online

He has a bird-brain in more ways than one. Did he send you the email about the penguins?”
    She shook her head.
    “I’ll forward it to you. But seriously, Alana, I have my own farm. You know I’m not into all this high-end stuff. And the whole body-care thing? I wouldn’t know a pheromone from fertilizer. That’s one of your specialties, not mine. I grow lettuce and micro greens and run a gleaning project for the county’s school lunch program. Basics.” He waved his hand at the marble fireplace along the far end of the kitchen. “All this would take energy away from what I love.”
    “My point exactly. It takes energy away from what one loves.”
    There was a long, uncomfortable silence. Simon quirked a brow at her.
    “And that would be what, exactly? What is it that you love, sis?”
    “You know. I like art and cities and nightlife and parties and—”
    “Besides all that.”
    Her cheeks flushed.
    “I could sell this place,” she said defiantly.
    “If you sell the ranch, someone will likely turn it into a fancy second home; some Silicon Valley type will use it on weekends to impress his friends. It won’t be a community, and it won’t be farmed like it’s meant to be. They’ll let staff go.”
    She grabbed the knife and sliced through his sandwich. “Maybe I could live in the city and hire more people, and it’ll pretty much run itself.”
    As soon as she said it, she knew it wasn’t possible. Already it wasn’t going that way.
    “A place like this requires you to be here, to know it, be part of the daily rhythms. You can’t have just one foot partway in.”
    Heat crept into her cheeks as she laid the knife on the counter. He knew damned well her aversion to commitment. She cleared her throat and glared. He simply smiled and fluttered his lashes.
    “You clearly did not come by to cheer me up.” She plunked the sandwich in front of him. The plate clattered against the marble counter. “Peanut butter and strawberry jam.”
    “My fave. Hey—Dad’s throwing a birthday party for Patrice when they get back from Africa. We have to go. It’ll break her heart if we miss it.”
    “He probably scheduled it for the day after Nana’s memorial. Did he happen to mention he foisted that off on me? And the fact that we had to schedule it for July so he wouldn’t have to cut his trip short?”
    “You’ll do Nana justice. Dad has no feel for that sort of thing.” He munched the last bites of his sandwich. “I’ll help you plan the memorial.”
    She leaned across the counter and kissed his cheek. “You’re the best.”
    A half smile curved into his lips.
    “Maybe Nana knew what she was doing when she left you the ranch.”
    “Out!” She pointed the knife at him. “I do not need a disloyal brother. You’re supposed to be helping me.”
    “Maybe I am. Help comes in many forms, sis. Some of them will surprise you.”
     
     

Chapter 4
     
    Scotty Donovan had invited himself over to Matt’s house for dinner. Matt admired the guy: he was a pitching phenomenon. Two years on the team, two years an All-Star. And he’d landed a wife who owned a Major League team. The outrageous story of Scotty’s courting of Sabers owner Chloe McNalley had reached near legendary status, but Matt had learned that most of the tales were true.
    “Hope you don’t mind spaghetti sauce out of a jar,” Matt joked as Scotty lifted the lid on a pot of boiling pasta.
    “Beats the takeout I’d be eating at home. Chloe has an owners meeting. No players allowed.”
    “That must be strange.”
    “I’m getting used to it, but we have a pretty hectic life during the season.” He accepted the beer Matt held out. “Where’s your daughter?”
    “Homework hour. She’ll be down in”—he glanced at the clock on the microwave—“six minutes and seventeen seconds.”
    Scotty laughed as he bent down to look at some of Sophie’s drawings stuck to the refrigerator with bright pink magnets.
    “I see she likes