by Radclyffe
“It hasn’t been that long,” Carrie protested. Presley snorted, and Carrie grinned. “Okay, maybe it’s been a long dry spell, but come on—we did move halfway across the country and just because you met Ms. Right the first damn day is not a fair benchmark!”
Presley’s eyebrows rose. “Ms. Right, is it?”
“No.” Carrie backpedaled. “No, no, I didn’t mean that.”
“Uh-huh,” Presley said. “Moving on, then. Considering the hour, I guess it was a good night.”
“I cannot tell a lie. It was stellar.”
Presley bumped shoulders. “Hey, that’s terrific. Really. I hope you’re having a great time.”
“Oh, I am.” Carrie ignored the little twinge of apprehension and the rhythmic warning lights flashing red at regular intervals. She was having fun. She hadn’t felt this excited, this invigorated, this damn glad to be alive in a long time. If it weren’t for the tiny matter of the simultaneous sense of being over her head in a raging sea without a life jacket, she would’ve been 100 percent floating.
“You’re good with everything, right?” Presley said.
“I am,” Carrie said slowly. “It’s early, you know, just casual.”
Presley gave her a look. “How long have I known you?”
“Um, six years?”
“Uh-huh. And I won’t pretend I know everything about your love life, considering you don’t always tell me the good parts.” Presley poked her arm playfully. “But I’ve never known you to look for casual. Casual dating, sure. But not, you know, once you get past that.”
“I know.” Carrie thought back on the night. She’d simply given in to the powerful attraction, so natural, so damn right, she hadn’t considered what might follow. Living hour to hour, day to day, without a game plan wasn’t her. “I’m sort of flying without a flight plan right now.”
“Wow, that’s a powerful statement coming from you, Ms. Little Organization Addict.”
“Hey! Am I really that controlling?”
“You’re not controlling. Well, you are, but in a good way that’s very productive and makes you great at your job. I’m sure it makes you great in lots of other ways too, but I think the heart is one of those things you can’t actually control.”
“You mean the heart wants what it wants?”
“I think that’s it,” Presley said.
“I can’t say I’ve ever run up against that before,” Carrie said.
“That in itself says a lot, then,” Presley observed.
“Maybe.” Carrie tossed her duffel behind the bench. “But I can’t think about that right now. I’ve got a game to win. Actually, three games, since we had to forfeit last night.”
“So go bring on your A game.” Presley gave her a quick hug. “And just enjoy all the rest of it. Don’t worry too much, but take care of your heart.”
“Yes, to all of the above,” Carrie said lightly. As if she could just talk herself into not feeling half-crazy every time she thought of Gina, let alone actually looked at her.
Enough. She would see Gina later. After she helped the Rivers beat Gina’s team.
Carrie sat down to put on her cleats. When she bent over to lace her shoes, she tilted her head enough to glance across to the other bench. Gina was standing halfway down the first-base line, her hands in the back pockets of her pants, looking directly across the infield at her. Carrie gasped. Heat washed through her. Staying focused could be a challenge since she had absolutely no control where Gina was concerned. She blew out a breath and concentrated on her shoelaces. Her temperature headed back toward normal. Better. For the next few hours, the only thing she intended to think about was winning.
There. That was a good plan.
*****
Ninety minutes later the Rivers were headed into the bottom of the last inning, up one run. Carrie was facing the top of the order and the Hammers’ biggest hitters.
“Are you sure you don’t want a relief pitcher in there?” Harper said.
Carrie tossed the ice pack she’d kept on her elbow just as added insurance during their at-bats into the cooler. “Are you kidding me? I’m not letting anyone else finish this one out. Besides, you’re going to need Mike and Kiko fresh for the second-half game. If we win this and the next one, we’ll head into the doubleheader tomorrow with the advantage.”
“One game at a time,” Harper said with her usual steady calm. “And I’m going to need your arm tomorrow, especially if it comes down to five games.”
“My arm is good. I’d tell you if it wasn’t. We’ve got a lot of the season left, after all. I’m not taking any chances.”
“Okay then. You’re up.” Harper scanned the sky. “No rain today. Let’s put this one away so we can get the next one in while we’re all still awake.”
“You got it.”
Carrie threw the first batter out on strikes. Next up to the plate was the brunette who’d pounded the home run on her the night before. She strode into the batter’s box looking determined. Carrie decided the brunette would be eager to put another one away and would jump on anything close. Carrie decided on a pitch she rarely used. Sinkers were tough to control. They started out in the strike zone, looking exactly like a fastball coming right down the middle. A home run hitter’s dream. At the last second, they dropped below the strike zone, if you threw it right. If she missed the pitch, this batter could hurt her.
Behind the plate, Harper signaled for an off-speed pitch outside. Carrie shook her head. Harper ran through the signals for Carrie’s other routine pitches and each time, Carrie shook her off. When Harper finally flashed the signal for a sinker, she nodded and started her windup. The brunette settled into her stance, and Carrie knew she’d go for this pitch. She didn’t think when she threw it—she felt it in her muscles and her bones. The ball headed hard and fast straight down the middle of the plate, perfect for a batter to hit squarely and hard. She almost felt the brunette smile when she canted her hips, dropped her shoulders, and swung for the fence. Her momentum as the bat passed over the ball took her nearly all the way around in the box. Strike one. Rattled, the brunette let the next pitch, a fastball, go by. Strike two. The third pitch she swung early on a changeup and missed. Strike three.
The Rivers bench cheered. One more out and the tournament was tied.
Carrie leaned over and rubbed her hand on the powder bag to make sure her grip on the next pitch was firm. The third batter was a power hitter too, but he hadn’t been hitting all that well the last few at-bats. He was frustrated, and he was going to swing at almost anything close. And that’s all she was going to give him. Something close. He surprised her with her first pitch and let it go by. She’d pitched low and outside and the ump called a ball. She threw the same pitch again, and he couldn’t wait this time. He missed it. He connected on the third pitch, another sinker that he just managed to hit at his knees. The ground ball shot past Carrie into the gap between first and second base. Glenn made a diving catch as Carrie raced to cover first. Glenn threw from the ground, an off-speed out of position toss. The batter, a good runner, sprinted down the line. Carrie nudged her foot on the bag and stretched until her shoulder popped. The ball hit her glove. The runner hit the bag.
Carrie raised her glove with the ball in it. The ump called the out.
They were done. The tournament was even, one to one. Now all they needed was the best of two out of three, totally doable.
The Rivers team surged to the infield. Flann grabbed Carrie and swung her around.
“Nice game, sweetheart.”
Carrie laughed. “You look like crap!”
“Good thing I’m invincible.”
Flann put her down and the team sorted themselves out for the ritual handshake with the losing team. Carrie passed down the line, shaking hands with the Hammers, and slowed as she neared the end. Gina held her hand out, and Carrie took it.
“Nice pitching,” Gina said.
“Thanks,” Carrie murmured, leaning in a little bit as they drew s
ide by side. “Good luck next game.”
“Winner buys dinner tonight?”
Carrie smiled. “That wasn’t the bet, but yes.”
“Good.” Gina nodded and kept walking.
Smiling to herself, Carrie headed back to the bench to ice her arm. She wouldn’t pitch the next game unless they were really in trouble.
Flann flopped down beside her. “Nice win.”
“Thanks. How are you doing? You must be beat.”
Flann stretched, her face drawn and a little pale. “I’m starting to feel it. I’ll be good for a couple more hours, though.”
“We’ve got two games tomorrow too,” Carrie said. “Maybe you ought to sit this one out.”
Flann made a face. “I’ll get my second wind when the game starts. I’m not as delicate as some pitchers.”
Carrie laughed. “Some of us don’t have a God complex.”
Flann’s brows rose. “Who, me?”
“Yeah, you.” Carrie smiled wryly. If she ever needed surgery, she wanted Flann to be the one in the OR. “Harper said things were a mess last night and you were still working when she left. Everybody make it okay?”
“They all made it,” Flann said, “but some of them will never be the same. There’s only so much a body can take.”
Carrie thought of Gina and her ruined knee. How much more had been destroyed that didn’t show on the outside? She automatically looked for her, the pressure in her chest easing when she found her leaning against the backstop, drinking from a water bottle and watching the Hammers’ pitcher warm up. God, she was good to look at. Even from a distance the thrill was palpable.
“That’s the one, huh?” Flann asked.
Carrie glanced at Flann. “Mind reader too?”
Flann laughed. “You know what they say about surgeons—the eye of the eagle, heart of a lion, and hands of a woman.”
“No wonder your head is so big.” Carrie smiled. “Let’s just say she’s got my attention.”
“Fair enough.” Flann rubbed her face. “Blake said some dickhead hassled you after the games a couple times. Tell me or Harp if it happens again, okay?”
“He’s just a bad loser, but I will.” Carrie scanned the stands. “Are they here?”
“You mean my kid and my sister, presently joined at the hip?” Flann laughed. “They’re getting ready to switch over to interning at the vet clinic in a week or so. They’re out there this afternoon but should be here soon.”
“Good. I’m so glad Blake is doing so well.”
“Yeah, me too.” Flann stood and stretched. “Time to go kick ass.”
Carrie wanted to win. She just wished that didn’t mean Gina would lose. But either way, they were having dinner together.
Chapter Twenty-five
“How is your shoulder?” Gina said when she caught up to Carrie at the Rivers’s bench after the game. She looked pointedly at the ice pack Aced to Carrie’s upper arm.
“All ready for tomorrow,” Carrie said. “Seriously, though, I’m good. I’ll need to ice it a little bit more tonight just to be safe, but that’s normal.”
Gina automatically grabbed Carrie’s duffel bag when Carrie finished zipping it and passed it over to her other hand, where she carried her own.
Smiling, Carrie shook her head.
“What?” Gina asked.
“I kinda feel like we’re walking home from school, and you’re carrying my books.”
“Oh yeah?” Gina grinned. “Is that a problem?”
“You know, it really isn’t. I’m pretty sure you know by now I could carry it myself.”
Gina chuckled. “Believe me, I’m pretty impressed by everything you can do. I just like doing it.”
“I know. I like that.” Carrie lifted a shoulder. “You make me feel special.”
Gina’s chest tightened and she cleared her throat. “Believe me, you are.”
“Goes both ways,” Carrie said. “I don’t let just anyone carry my gear, you know.”
“Good.” Gina said it a little more forcefully than she meant to, probably more than she had any right to, but she didn’t care. She wanted to be the one to make Carrie feel special. She wanted to be the one Carrie looked at with that gut-clenching combination of fire and almost bewildered wonder. She wanted a lot of things, but right now she wanted to watch Carrie’s eyes go hazy with need just before she made her come. “So, ah, are you planning to head home and rest up to beat us—or I should say, try to beat us tomorrow?”
“I hate to say this,” Carrie said, “but I am slightly on the exhausted side.” She stopped by the side of her car and gave Gina a look. “I can’t imagine why that should be.”
Gina tossed Carrie’s duffel into the minuscule trunk of her miniscule car, not even trying to keep the smirk off her face. “I think I might have some idea. And it’s probably a good idea that you ice your shoulder before you pass out for the night. You’ll be pitching tomorrow, won’t you?”
“That’s the plan.”
Gina rested her hip against the car. She ought to let Carrie get home to ice and rest, but damn, she didn’t want to let her go. She had nothing to look forward to except a long night of trying to ignore the lust churning up her insides. She blew out a breath. “Good luck.”
“Thanks. Same to you guys. It’s a great tournament so far.”
“It is. Slightly better for us just now being one game up, but we’ll be ready for you to come out firing tomorrow.”
Carrie ran her finger down the center of Gina’s baseball shirt, letting her fingers linger just above the top of her pants. She pressed gently. “I have a feeling you’re always ready.”
Gina’s stomach muscles tensed. “If you don’t want to give everybody a show, you’d better not do that again.”
Carrie laughed, an altogether evil laugh that sent pounding shock waves straight to the pit of Gina’s stomach. “What’s the matter? Can’t take a little teasing?”
“The way I feel right now?” Gina growled. “No. Not even a little bit.” She stepped closer, bracing her hands on the roof and caging Carrie against the side of the car. “Are you going to be upset if I kiss you right now?”
“I think I might be upset if you don’t,” Carrie murmured.
Gina dipped her head and took Carrie’s mouth, the softness of Carrie’s lips familiar, but the instant charge of heat flaring in her midsection totally foreign. Carrie’s arms came around her waist, trapping her as easily as she’d trapped Carrie. She liked how naturally Carrie set claim to her, and how effortlessly she let herself be claimed. She kept her hands on the top of the car, vaguely aware in the recesses of her still-thinking brain if she touched her, she’d forget where she was and who might be watching. That would never happen again. After a few seconds of searing contact, she gathered the tatters of her willpower and pulled back. Her breath shot in and out of her chest so fast she wasn’t sure she was actually breathing. Her legs shook and her stomach swirled. “Every time I look at you, I want to taste you. Every time I do, I want to devour you.”
Wide-eyed, Carrie moaned softly and swept both hands up and down Gina’s back, her fingers playing over the rigid muscles along her spine. “What do you think about following me to my place, and we’ll devour some pizza. Who knows, maybe you’ll get lucky.”
Gina grinned. “My luck’s been good lately.”
“So has mine.” Carrie pushed Gina away, tracing a finger down the center of her abdomen. “And I’m planning on getting luckier before the night’s over.”
Gina sucked in a breath. She was barely going to be able to hold together until they were alone. “Before we leave, I’ll call and order something to pick up on the way.”
“Make sure it’s something you want to eat cold,” Carrie said. “I’ll see you at the house. Thankfully, I’ve still got a working bathroom.”
Gina laughed. “For a few more days.”
Carrie kissed her quickly and gave her a little push. “Go.”
“I’ll see you soon.” G
ina turned away, her phone already in her hand.
“Drive carefully.” Carrie called, watching her for a few more seconds just for the thrill of it. The view from the rear was as hot as the front. She was about to jump in her car when Harper and Presley carried the rest of the gear up to Harper’s Jeep.
“Need help?” Carrie called, pretending not to notice the huge grin on Presley’s face.
“We got it.” Abandoning Harper to stow the gear, Presley hurried around Carrie’s car. “I saw that, you know. Who started that?”
“No comment.”
“Oh, come on. That’s just cruel.”
“Nope.” Carrie couldn’t have answered if she wanted to. Gina might have made the first move, but she’d been angling for that kiss and a hell of a lot more since the instant the game had ended and she didn’t have to think about team activities. What she had in mind was definitely one-on-one. And soon. God, she was on fire.
“Are you going out for beer and something to eat with us?” Presley said.
“No, I’m beat. Gina’s going to grab a pizza, and I’m going to make it an early night.”
Presley rolled her eyes. “Oh, sure. If early night means being in bed within the hour, and not alone.”
Carrie smirked. “Okay, that might be part of the plan too.”
Gina pulled out in her truck, honking the horn to Carrie as she went by. Her window was down, her hair was windblown, and her grin was an invitation to sin. Laughing, Carrie waved.
Presley shook her head. “I gotta say, she’s hot.”
“Yes, she is,” Carrie murmured.
“Okay, I won’t keep you since I can see you’re just a teeny bit preoccupied with getting home to ice your arm.”
“Top of my list,” Carrie said, opening her door. “See you tomorrow.”
“Save a little for the game tomorrow.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be ready.” She waved to Harper as she backed out and headed for home. Two games to play the next afternoon. They needed to win both to take the tournament. She was looking forward to the challenge, but right now, all she wanted was to get home and get her hands on Gina.