Holiday Home Run - Priscilla Oliveras Page 0,19

that called out to the loneliness he kept hidden.

“In my house, with my three competitive brothers, you never back away from a challenge. So, what are you throwing down?” she asked.

The way she jutted her chin with confidence, her other hand balled in a fist on her slender hip, had his pulse quickening.

“I’m thinking you, me, a private ice-skating session after the rink closes to the public. What do you say? Are you up for it?”

Chapter Seven

This was not a date. Merely a fun evening with a friend.

Julia repeated the words to herself as her driver steered his car through the darkened streets of downtown Chicago Sunday evening, headed toward Ben’s home in the Southport Corridor neighborhood near Wrigley Field.

The sounds of cars honking and snow crunching under the tires mixed with the voice of Michael Bublé crooning “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” over the radio. Outside her window, holiday decorations and lights flashed by, illuminating the car’s interior, casting shadows that matched the shadows of doubt she’d been battling all day.

Lilí had practically pushed her out the door with an exasperated, “¿Nena, estás loca? Why would you not go?”

Instead, Julia wondered if she was crazy for coming.

Huddled in the backseat with the rush of the car’s heated air warming her, thoughts of Christmases on the Island swarmed her. The fiestas with her familia and friends, the late night parrandas going from house to house singing and playing instruments. She missed the comfort of the coquís serenading her at night when she fell asleep with her window open. Like the Islanders themselves, the miniature tree frogs indigenous to Puerto Rico had survived the horrors of Hurricane María and the aftermath. Battered, but not beaten.

The strength to survive, something Mami and Papi had driven into her and her brothers, especially in those months after the storm, guided her now. It fed her determination to succeed here in Chicago.

Which is why she had no business allowing herself to be distracted by heart-flutter-inducing romance. With a ballplayer.

Ex-ballplayer, as Lilí had reminded her.

The driver turned down a quiet neighborhood street adorned with holiday flair. Lighted santas, reindeer, and nativity scenes glowed in the small, snow-covered front yards. Christmas trees brightened windows and colored lights outlined many of the homes.

They must be getting closer to Ben’s place. Julia’s shoulders shimmied with excited anticipation.

After making a left turn onto West Addison Street, the car slowed to a stop in front of a gorgeous, redbrick, two-story home with a dark, burnished metal fence that matched the window accents.

It was a large house, built to hold a growing family more so than a single guy who spent half of the baseball season on the road.

“Here we are.” The gray-haired driver turned to look at her over his shoulder, his chin hidden by a thick green scarf wrapped around his neck.

“How much do I owe you?” she asked.

“It’s already covered by the guy who booked the car. Have a nice evening, miss.”

Julia thanked him and offered the same, then slid out of the vehicle.

Gingerly stepping over the snow plowed off to the side of the road, she made her way up the cobblestone path and several cement stairs to Ben’s front door. The porch light welcomed her, though a strange lack of Christmas decorations left his place the odd one out compared to his neighbors. She peeked at the front windows, but couldn’t spot a tree inside either.

For someone who seemed more like a homebody than the partying bachelor most single, multimillion-dollar athletes were, Ben’s lack of holiday spirit surprised her.

As she stood in front of his door, her gloved finger hovering over the black, rectangular doorbell, a mix of emotions assailed her.

Eagerness, at spending more time with him.

Fear, that she was coming to look forward to seeing him. Far more than a mere friend should.

Empathy, for a good man that life had thrown a major curve.

Ben might not have openly admitted it, but she’d caught the sadness in his eyes, the dejection in his slightly sagging shoulders when the topic of his playing days came up.

Just like with her brother, Alfredo.

Only, the pang she felt for Ben wasn’t brotherly. Not in the least. And that’s what worried her.

The wind kicked up, blowing a swirl of snow at her feet. A chill shuddered through her and she quickly pressed the bell.

Seconds later the door opened to reveal Ben, all six foot plus of hunky male in dark jeans and a light blue sweater that heightened the icy blue of