by Alice Ward
Wow, so he’s one of those pitchers. I knew he was arrogant, and that he had the talent to back it up most of the time. But the fact remained… a good pitcher is only as good as his catcher. And, that was me, whether he liked it or not.
“Like it or not—” I started to say.
“I don’t,” he cut in.
“Yeah, this is not what I wanted either. But if we want this to work, we have to work together.” I fought back my desire to spout off a few more items on my agenda, like he didn’t deserve Whitney, or he was lucky to be back in the game after his injury, or the fact that he wasn’t as good as he thought he was.
“The way I see it, you’re the only one who needs this to work. You have nowhere else to go.” He smirked and tossed a baseball in my direction. My reflexes kicked in, reaching out and snatching the ball that floated past me. My fingers tightened around the leather as I tried to control my anger. I wanted to toss it back toward him, but not soft and easy like he’d done. I had a strong arm, stronger than his — I could hurl a ball to second while lying flat on the ground if I needed to. I could knock him down a notch or two if I wanted, but I needed my pitcher cocky, at least a little, in order to get the best game from him.
“You might wanna do your homework. This wasn’t my last resort. Rhett paid a pretty penny to get me here,” I chuckled, loving the look on Calvin’s face as it turned from smug to bewildered.
It was true. He had paid far more than he should have. The Mets were obviously done with me, worried that I’d tarnish their squeaky clean image, or their insurance policy, with my wild antics.
Calvin grabbed his glove, stormed away from me, and headed toward the field. All those notes I’d taken, focusing highly on the guys already here were a waste, I guess. At least for now.
I finished gearing up and made my way to the plate. I squatted down, took position, and watched as the coach sent up Singleton for the first pitch. Calvin spit on the mound, kicked at the dirt, and looked as if he were in agony to have to make eye contact with me. This was bullshit.
I signaled for a fastball to land on the inside corner of the plate, and of course, Calvin shook it off. Luke loved to crowd the plate, and he was a heavy hitter, so keeping the ball low and close was important. I shook my head, signaled for a curveball. He shook it off again. What the fuck?
“What do you want?” I yelled out in irritation.
“Is there a problem, ladies?” Coach called out in my direction.
I shook my head, signaled again, and again, until Calvin finally agreed to a knuckleball that Luke hit over the fence. He paraded around the plates with a victorious stance, waving to the empty stands as he rounded third. I was pissed. Calvin knew I was pissed.
Finally, practice ended. Calvin had been a real pain in the ass out there on the field. He wasn’t willing to talk strategy with me, listen to any of my calls, or even consider that I may know a thing or two about my job.
“Sorry I was so hard on ya out there.” Calvin slapped me on the shoulder.
I turned, surprised to hear anything positive from Calvin Malone. I wondered if he realized that by trying to do it all himself, he wasn’t much good. He needed me as much as I needed him if this was to work.
“I can take it, but the game can’t,” I said. “Your last catcher was young and green. I know your competition. Hell, I was your competition. I know who crowds the plate, who has a tendency to step in the bucket, who is anxious, impatient, and who has the best short-to-long swings. You need to listen to me.” It felt good to get that off my chest.
His lips curled into a smile, almost a smirk, but still genuine. Another pat on the shoulder, no words, just the pat, and he walked away. Was he just toying with me?
A beautiful Wide Glide Harley Davidson sat in the parking lot, the chrome glistening against the Florida sun. I stopped, admiring the beauty, the power, and the sheer sexiness of the bike as Coach strolled up beside me.
“You know that’s off limits. Any of your dumb stunts here and you’re gone.”
Before I could agree, disagree, or come off with a smartass remark, Coach was gone, heading to the first shuttle.
“We’re all going out for a drink later, you wanna come?” Luke asked as he passed by me. I was still staring at the bike, wishing it was mine. I’d already researched the area and knew there was a place up the road where I could rent one. Who did the Coach think he was anyway? He couldn’t tell me what to do no more than the Mets' coach could.
“Sure,” I answered Luke and followed him to the shuttle. I watched out the window as Katrina strolled through the parking lot toward her white car. Rhett must’ve hired her a driver, nice. I understood him not wanting her on the shuttle with us guys. We were loud, rude, and probably stunk worse than we realized. Her on a different floor, focusing on the team, not just me, it was making it hard for me to show her how charming I was. Maybe a bike ride would be just what I needed to get her attention where it belonged. On me.
Some of the other guys started flowing into town. At the hotel I watched Ace unload his suitcases from the airport shuttle and head inside. The little blonde at the customer counter was batting her eyelashes a mile a minute in his direction as he handed her his driver’s license. The old Ace would’ve snatched her up from behind that counter, pulled her into the broom closet, and made a memory she’d never forget. But, this guy, I wasn’t sure who the fuck this guy was. He smiled graciously and took the key and his ID from her without eye contact. Wow, it was like watching a strange movie, one you thought you’d figured out, and then it slaps you in the face with an unexpected twist.
“Hey man, how was practice?” he asked, walking alongside me toward the elevator.
“Not bad,” I lied. It was fucking horrible. Malone and his fuckin’ attitude. But, they had been big time buddies there for a while so I kept my mouth shut.
“You with Calvin?” he asked. His face turned serious, his lips pursed together tightly, and he slapped the elevator button with a vengeance. I nodded.
He laughed as the elevator doors opened. He stood aside, letting me enter first. I watched as he shook his head, grinned wildly, and pushed my floor number. “What floor?” he asked.
“Same.”
“Cool. You goin’ out with the guys tonight?”
I still wasn’t sure, even though I’d told Luke yes. They weren’t my team. They certainly weren’t my friends.
“Only way you're gonna fit in is to mix it up with ‘em,” he said as if reading my mind.
“I’m not worried about fitting in.”
I was used to being on my own. I was the catcher, the guy behind the mask no one noticed. I liked that just fine. Even though I did most of the hard work on that field, making life easier for my team, harder for our opponents, I wasn’t the one who got slapped on the back or picked up on the player’s shoulders. My job was to make the pitcher look good, my team, Calvin. Fuck, I hated my job.
“I’ll pick you up in an hour,” Ace said with a smile.
I exited the elevator with Ace watching me as I slid the key into my door. He disappeared around the corner as I entered my room. Maybe he was right. I needed to make things work with Calvin, and I couldn’t do that if he didn’t listen to me. Yes, a beer would be the perfect icebreaker.
My knees ached from slamming them into the hard ground all day. I stripped out of my clothes, turned the shower faucet as hot as it would go, and stood under the soothing streams of water. My day wasn’t great, but it was better than expected. I had no idea what to expect at the bar, with Calvin, with the topic of Whitney looming over both of us like a black cloud. Damn, I actually missed that girl. Her smell, her soft skin, and her taste were all still lurking in my memories. I hated when she took Calvin back. At the time, I didn’t think he deserved her. If I was being completely honest, I still didn’t.
My dick was already at attention, standing firm against the streams of water. Whitney’s long hair and big eyes were haunting me, teasing me, exciting me. I knew the
y were happy, she was happy. But, a part of me wished they weren’t.
I lathered up, taking special care not to spend too much time around my aroused dick. I didn’t want to rub one off, not yet. My mind wandered to Katrina, the sweet, full lips I’d wanted to kiss, those beautiful green eyes that made me melt, and her long sandy blonde hair I wanted to set free from the loose bun she wore on top of her head. She reminded me a little bit of Whitney. She had the same good girl, girl next door kind of look, kind of attitude. Fuck, my dick was getting harder.
I turned the water to cold, not just a little, but all the way to the iciest setting. The streams of water pricked at my skin like fine needles. My dick released the blood it was holding and allowed it to flow through my body for warmth and comfort.
After drying off, changing twice, and pacing back and forth a number of times in my room, a knock sounded on my door. What had I gotten myself into?
“Hey, wild man,” I greeted Ace who was standing on the other side of my door.
He wore a tight t-shirt, loose jeans, and had his dark hair slicked back away from his face. There was something about him. Something even I had to admit was sexy. He was cool, confident, and even though the entire league knew what he’d gone through—the entire world knew—you couldn’t tell it to look at him.
“You ready to roll, hot shot?” he asked, offering up a crooked smile.
“Absolutely.” I grabbed my wallet, shoved it into the jeans I wore, wishing I’d kept the looser Levi’s on instead of changing into the tighter ones.
The shuttle waited for us outside the condo. Several of the guys were already loaded on, including Kane Steele, the new first baseman the tabloids had gone wild for. He wasn’t a troublemaker, a daredevil, or even a partier, he was just “plain dreamy” according to several of the front pages I’d read.
“I can’t believe I’m a Beast,” he boasted, beating his chest like a gorilla as he spoke.
Ace chuckled at Kane, but slid in beside me, slapped me on the shoulder, and then did something I never thought I’d see Ace Newman do. “Hey, you see my little man?” He pulled out his phone and began scrolling through images of a dark-haired, dark-eyed infant.
“That’s Rip. Rip Newman.” His voice was so proud, and his eyes looked to me like they wanted, needed my approval of this child.
“He’s handsome.”
“Handsome? He’s down right sexy this kid.” Ace laughed.
“Oh yeah, he’s posin’ for the ladies right there.” I pointed to the picture of little Rip with his leg hiked up on a chair. Ace laughed, harder than I’d expected, and pushed his phone back into his pocket.
I still couldn’t believe this was the same man. Ace Newman, what happened to you?
Calvin slipped into the backseat without saying a word to me or even looking in my direction. “Who’s ready to tear this town up?” he asked, instantly throwing the somewhat calm group into a chaotic frenzy.
“Katrina thought she could keep us away from the party. But what she didn’t know, is we are the party,” Luke yelled out as the driver headed toward the south side of the beach.
It took literally only a few minutes to reach Main Street and the bar that Luke had chosen. Why anyone left him in charge was beyond me. The place was nice, so I didn’t complain.
The blonde bartender’s eyes lit up, and I was confident her nipples hardened as we all walked into the small, mostly empty place. The guys spread out into three groups but kept their tables close enough to interact. I was standing there, not sure where to go when Kane gripped my elbow. “You want the cool kids’ table,” he said with a laugh.
I sat down with him and Jake Peterson, our third baseman. Blake Osborne and Luke Singleton were there too, both pitchers I looked forward to working with soon.
“So, how you like being a Beast?” Jake asked.
He was goofy, maybe just because he was so nice. I wasn’t sure what to make of him yet, but he wasn’t my usual cup of tea. “It’s not too bad.”
“At least you got to stay in your hometown,” Kane said, kicking back his chair onto two legs.
“True.”
“I miss California so fuckin’ bad,” he said, his lips rolling down into a frown as he spoke.
“What’s so great about California?” Jake asked.
Everyone at the table looked at him with surprise. I knew some of them were thinking women in bikinis or that it was so warm and pretty all year round, but not me. I was thinking about rock climbing, cliff diving, sky diving, scuba excursions with the sharks, and all the other excitement the state offered.
“Surfing,” Kane said with a smile.
I didn’t see a surfer when I looked at Kane Steele. His body was ripped, so he could probably handle a wave. His dark, thick hair was perfectly groomed, his demeanor more uptight—and without being too judgmental—his vocabulary more rounded than what I’d assumed a surfer’s to be. I hadn’t heard him say dude or gnarly once. He didn’t look like the typical surfer from California.
The bartender finally made her way to our table, taking orders as fast as we could spit them out. “Just bring us four pitchers,” Luke spoke up, easing the stress on the bartender’s leathered face.
“She’s kinda hot,” Luke said, licking his lips as she walked away.
I tried not to make a face, but it was hard not to. Her saggy ass was squeezing out of the top of her jeans, and she would have been pretty without so much makeup, or if she’d washed her hair.
“Seriously?” Kane asked and laughed so loud it echoed through the bar.
Ace was sipping on a soda. Not a beer, not tequila, but a soda. I admired him for that. I wished my brother could battle his demons the way Ace had done. My younger brother was always trouble. I was eight when Marcus was born, so by the time he started getting into real trouble, like getting drunk at thirteen, smoking pot, and experimenting with heavier drugs, I was already in the minors, fighting my way to where I was now. Well, where I had been with the Mets. Here, this is just where I'd landed until I'd proved I could follow the rules. Or didn’t get caught not following them.
Everyone was having a great time, listening to the jukebox, talking about nothing, and pretending they weren’t here to work their asses off for a moment. It was nice. I was glad Ace had convinced me to come. Otherwise I would have missed out on finding out that Jake once got beat up by a girl, or that Kane was once a child model. I loved hearing all the stories about Ace, and even some of them with Calvin involved. I could see where Calvin had gotten caught up with him and even felt somewhat empathetic about how he’d almost lost Whitney because of it. Somewhat.
The band was setting up on the tiny stage in the corner of the bar when Katrina walked in. I followed her with my eyes as she found a seat at the bar, organized her electronics and folders in front of her, and put in an order with the bartender. I was curious if she’d ordered a real drink, or if she was keeping it professional by drinking water, coffee, or some other drink no one should ever order in a bar.
She was trying to be discreet, but I noticed her checking me out over her shoulder. Those eyes of hers were dangerous, seductive, and so very elusive.
I slid out of my seat, moved toward her, and worked hard at keeping my dick under control as she turned to look at me with those amazing green eyes. “You come here often?” I asked with my cheesiest tone.
She laughed. Damn, I loved that smile.
“I try not to.”
“So, what are you doing here?” I asked as the bartender handed her a glass of water with a lemon wedge floating in it.
“Babysitting,” she smirked.
“Of course. Well, you should know, I’ve been a real bad boy.”
Her eyes narrowed, her lips curled. I could see a hint of excitement rushing through her. “Have you now?”
I nodded.
“And what have you done?” she asked.
“Drink a beer with me, and I’ll tell ya.”
“No, thanks,” she declined but still
smiled.
My dick twitched as she brushed the loose curl that fell from her bun and dangled at her cheek. “Well, it doesn’t matter anyway. As long as you’re here to watch me now.”
I took the seat beside her, ordered two beers, and then slid one to her. She pushed it back toward me, her pink fingernails clinking against the glass. “If you don’t drink it, then I have to.”
“Uh huh. Guess so.”
“But, what if I get drunk?” I teased.
“I’m sure it wouldn’t be your first time.”
The jukebox started to play a country song, one I didn’t recognize. The beat was fast and fun. My eyes watched Katrina’s foot start to tap on the rung of her bar stool.
“You want to dance?” I asked.
She shook her head. Her cheeks brightened to a beautiful pink color. She looked over her shoulder at the other players. I knew she was concerned about what they were thinking. I didn’t care. They were drinking, laughing, and having a good time. Hell, they were probably relieved that I was keeping the babysitter occupied.
“No one’s watching us,” I insisted.
Her demeanor and anxiousness made me wonder if she’d ever even been inside a bar before. “You don’t like it here?” I asked.
“It’s just highly unorthodox. I’m a little out of my element,” she admitted.
A little? Hell, it was obvious she was way out of her element.
“You’re a very beautiful but complicated woman, Katrina Delaney,” I said while watching for her reaction. A faint smile formed on her face, and her cheeks turned a warm pink.
“I’m here to work,” she murmured, not overly convincing to me or herself, I presumed.
“You can still have fun. What’s the point of work if you don’t enjoy it?” She seemed to loosen up a bit. “I won’t tell,” I insisted.
Her eyes narrowed as she turned to look at me, and her lips lifted into a crooked smile. Wow, was she calling me out?
I held out my hands. “What, you don’t believe me?”