Igniting the Wild Sparks

by Alexander, Ren

  He nods as his grin impossibly widens more; reminding me of the smile he gave me when we played on the beach. Shit. He will come and forcibly pick me up with me kicking and screaming just like he did then, too.

  Suddenly, Rod grabs my arm, pulling, and I go as eagerly as a fat turkey goes willingly out behind the woodshed on Thanksgiving. I shove on his arm trying to break free, but that does me no good. Does he actually work out when we, well, work out?

  Nearly tossing me to the wolves, Rod proclaims, “Here’s your last victim, coach.”

  Finn’s eyes don’t leave me as he replies, “Thanks, Rod.”

  Walking over with a black thing in her hands, Cara says, “This is a mic. I’m going to hook it up to you. Lift your shirt.” She speaks to me like she’d rather be scooping out cat litter. I don’t want her touching me, but I nod anyway. Handing me the wire, she works on attaching the box to the back of my jeans. Finn’s smile falters while he fixedly looks on as I lift my shirt a little and thread the wire up to my collar. Then, grabbing the mic through my shirt opening, Cara clips it onto my T-shirt collar. Her perfume engulfs me and I turn my head so I don’t throw up in her face. It’s horrendous. Does she bathe in it? I doubt a hooker would buy it at a yard sale. I wish Finn were the one helping me instead of this hussy because I’d sooner Rod see me naked than for her to fondle me.

  Maybe that’s a tad extreme on both counts.

  When I’m done, his smug smile returns. “Thanks, Cara.” He then nods to the camera aimed at the chain link surrounding home plate. “Shall we?”

  I feel the vomit ascending. “Do we have to? Really? Can I defer to a later date?”

  He slowly shakes his head, his eyes boring into mine, throwing me off my train of thought. “Nope. Everyone else had to do it. Now, so do you.” I guess I’m not special to him after all.

  Resorting to despairing methods, I actually whine and virtually stomp. “But, I don’t want to!”

  Finn raises a challenging eyebrow, daring me to argue with him here with a literal audience. “Oh, come on. Put a smile on that face and answer a couple innocent questions. No harm. No foul.”

  I cross my arms and sneer, “Was that a baseball pun?”

  He licks his lips and nods his head, self-righteously smiling and mockingly replying, “Yeah. Good observation. I hope you’re that sharp on the field.”

  I gulp and peer at the baseball diamond. “Yeah. Me, too.”

  He takes a few steps backwards until he’s in front of the camera and I more than grudgingly follow, nervously finger-brushing my ponytail. I glance at Milo, who is grinning ear-to-ear at my mini breakdown. The other guy, Reed, doesn’t give me much of a second glance, which is a relief.

  Reed nods at Milo and shouts, “Action!”

  Finn looks at the camera and starts, “This is my final player.” He turns his head to face me and his dark eyes sparkle as they sweetly crinkle at the corners. “Can you tell my viewers your name?” Do I have to?

  Folding my arms under my breasts, I clear my throat and softly reply, “Hadley Beckett,” at the ground, but his gaze almost has a gravitational pull, forcing me to swiftly glance back up to him, now trapped in his absorbed stare.

  As if in a trance of his own, he nods and puts his left hand on his hip. It feels like we have been staring at each other for eons when he finally asks, “What do you think of playing softball with your coworkers? So far, is it fun and it’s all good, or do you wish you all were in a bowling league instead?” I know he was teasing Shasta a little, but he’s actually interviewing me. That slightly calms me, yet unnerves me, too. I feel like a conundrum that even I can’t figure out.

  Blinking out of my preoccupation, I take a shaky, deep breath. “I love softball. I played shortstop when I was younger. I think it’ll be fun playing with people I work with every day, but barely see. That sounds weird, I know. We work on the same floor, yet don’t see each other much. Maybe it’s just me. I kind of stay in my office and keep to myself, so I’m very much out of the loop. I think I’m rambling. Sorry.”

  He laughs and it’s a genuine Finn Wilder laugh. I presume my suffering must be entertaining on his end. “You’re fine.” He continues to study me with his laidback smile and I try to relax a little, but my hands are shaking so badly. I’m afraid I’m going to throw up in front of all his Finnatics. I hope he’d have a heart and edit that out.

  Finn nonchalantly climbs his fingers above our heads into the chain link next to us and my gaze slides to his firm, barbed-wired bicep peeking out from his T-shirt’s short sleeve. He’s so confidant and sexy. Will his fans notice how I’m gawking at him like a lovesick kid?

  He asks, “You surprised everyone with the hits you made yesterday. I was impressed, to say the least. Were you that good back then, too?” His interview reminds me of the questions he fired off at me the first few days on the phone before he asked me out.

  Shrugging as a preliminary answer, I play with my ponytail while I inanely gawk at his handsome face, wanting to kiss his full lips again. I need to get with it or I’ll look even more absurd than I already do. I’m sure Rod is having a literal field day watching me fall flat like my pancakes. “I guess. I hit a few home runs.” Oddly, Finn joyfully beams as if he’s proud of my answer, and that magnificent grin of his is ultimately the death of me. Being away from him and his valiant effort to not parade our relationship around my coworkers ignites something in me. A couple weeks ago, I was upset with him for hiding me. So how could I not want him to show his love for me in public now? Additionally, with Cara and Shasta looking on, I want to show them what’s mine.

  And that is Finnigan Wilder.

  Morgan’s words replay in my head:

  “Whatever you have to do to hold onto your man, Hadley.”

  With new motivation, I decisively smile, conveying inexplicable confidence. “It’s my turn to ask you a question.”

  His twinkling eyes widen and he skeptically chuckles. “What question did you want to ask me?” There’s one that I really want to ask you…

  I’m unwavering on the road to my goal. “I saw your tattoo dare.” I return his earlier challenging look with one of my own. He stops blinking and I can practically hear his breathing pick up. “Out with it. What’s your girlfriend like?”

  His smile freezes while his eyes scour my face, breaking entirely from his professional demeanor. Will he not answer me or cut the interview short? Finn’s public mask completely tumbles when he anxiously licks his lips and swallows hard. His eyes become darker even in the sun as they lock onto mine. Although he appears unsettled, he steadily says, “She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. Stunning doesn’t begin to describe her. She makes me laugh, think and care about things I never did before. She’s my other half, my soulmate, and my best friend. I fall more in love with her each day.”

  Astonished beyond belief at Finn’s public admission, I manage to stutter on the word wow.

  How much is he willing to admit on camera? Wanting to drive him further, I step closer to him. When I do, I notice the muscles tensing in his upheld arm as he stares down at me. He acutely inhales, his eyes spiritedly searching mine, before he says, “You asked; now you tell me. What’s your boyfriend like?”

  I demurely smile at his question. “He’s sweet, devoted, caring, soulful, and the sexiest man I’ve ever seen in my life. His smile, eyes and magical, color-changing hair are my favorite things to stare at. His daringly cocky attitude hurdles me to the brink of insanity and back, but I wouldn’t change it for the world. He’s my missing puzzle piece, my soulmate, and my best friend. My love for him multiplies by leaps and bounds every time I look at him.”

  “Wow,” he steals my earlier, stuttered reply.

  Reaching up, I boldly curl my fingers into the neck of his T-shirt, making his microphone crackle, and I pull down until his heart tattoo is exposed. “Becks,” I state like it’s an answer to a question. He cautiously nods and I feign obliviousness. “What did you say your girlfriend
’s name is?” I look from his tattoo up to his guarded eyes.

  “Hadley.”

  I’ll never stop loving how my name sounds in his deep voice and how it rocks me to the core every single time.

  I grin. “What a coincidence.” We both dazedly nod at each other and I forget the camera in our faces, along with the crowd around us.

  He says, “Tell my viewers the name that only your boyfriend calls you.” My heart is the one to stammer now from his statement and the sudden reminder of our audience.

  Finn cockily smirks. “I dare you.”

  Shaking off the fleeting self-consciousness, matching grins spread across our faces as we taunt one another. “Challenge accepted.” I bite my lip and glance at Cara, who looks like she’s witnessing an explosion at a match factory. Suck it up, bitch.

  I look back at Finn and my lips curve into a gratifying smile. “Becks. Finn Wilder calls me Becks.”

  Finn drops his hand from the fence and with me still gripping his T-shirt, he leans closer to me until we’re nose-to-nose, his quick breath blowing across my face. “What a coincidence.” His brash smirk disappears and his fiery gaze falls to my lips.

  I desperately want to kiss him, but we aren’t alone.

  Fuck it.

  I yank on his shirt collar as my other hand flies up to his face, pulling him down to mine. Our lips readily collide, my fingers sliding into his hair, and he kisses me as if I’m the oxygen he desperately needed.

  As do I.

  From behind us, I vaguely hear whooping and hollering, mostly coming from Rod, Morgan and Val.

  Finn abruptly breaks our kiss to look out at the team on the field, and then turns back to the camera. He happily nods at me. “Oh, yeah. She’s my Becks.”

  Before I can fully comprehend what just happened, he eagerly swoops down to kiss me again.

  CHAPTER 4

  “You’re dating our coach?”

  “He was my boyfriend first.”

  “Finn Wilder just kissed you!”

  “How in the hell did we not know you were dating him?”

  “Does he wear boxers or briefs?”

  After our scandalous kiss, Finn told Milo to cut and then bolted, taking Ricky with him, of course. From the other side of the fence, Cara shot daggers at me. If I thought she hated me before, she definitely will not be joining my fan club any time soon.

  As soon as Finn made his escape, Shasta and Betsy, who seems to be the other office gossip, accosted me. I hadn’t realized that before since I don’t hang out with her. I thought Rod was bad, but most of his revelations are actually true, which makes me give the bit about Amos actual credence.

  Betsy essentially glares at me, while Shasta crosses her arms and snaps, “Are you serious? You’re the girlfriend you mentioned he had?”

  I look around in vain for my other half, but he’s nowhere to be found. Men. Clearing my throat, I adjust my ponytail as I indiscreetly scan the area for Rod or Morgan. “Yes.”

  Betsy offers her two cents. “And you weren’t going to tell us?”

  Dropping my arms and then crossing them, I shrug and keep aimlessly searching for help. “We didn’t think it was a big deal.”

  Putting her hands on her hips, Shasta disdainfully asks, “Where’d you two meet?” What are she and Betsy doing? Tag teaming?

  Sneaking up from behind and putting his arm around me, Rod answers, “Rehab.”

  Not helping, Rod.

  I frown sourly at him and he pats my shoulder before walking away. Facing my firing squad alone again, I say, “In the emergency room when I broke my wrist. He was there with his sister when she was sick.”

  Shasta shakes her head and irritably scowls. “Damn. I’ll have to break my wrist and scout the ER.” She could always break a hip and prowl an old folks’ home. “Maybe I’ll be able to hook a hot celebrity.”

  I roll my eyes at her outrageous statement. “He’s only a local celebrity and I didn’t hook him. He approached me.”

  Shasta’s eyes widen in disbelief. “Oh! That’s surprising.” Fuck you!

  I shoot an eyebrow up and derisively ask, “Why?”

  She shrugs with a condescending smile. “At first sight, you don’t seem like you would be his type. He’s charismatic and popular. You’re…not.”

  I have to grab the chain link to restrain myself from tearing her hair out. I say through my teeth, “He has his moments.” She has no idea what my boyfriend is really like.

  Walking back to us and laughing, Rod has Morgan in tow and they stop next to me. Rod scoffs, “Quiet? Hadley Beckett? You don’t know her as well as I do! She’s crude, rude and has a bad attitude.”

  Betsy laughs. “That’s hard to believe!” Fuck you, too!

  Rod rests his arm on top of my head, forcing me to stoop. “Don’t doubt me.”

  Shasta pouts. “You get to sleep with Finn Wilder and wake up next to him. With messy bedhead, not to mention even huskier voice after he just wakes up, he must be some sight to wake up to.” No kidding. That’s why I’ve been late for work on more than one occasion.

  I shove at Rod’s arm, compelling him to move. “He is. I hate leaving him in our bed to go to work.” That’s right, Shasta. Our bed.

  “He also makes you late for kite festivals. That’s gross.” Rod makes gagging noises from behind me. I take note to never introduce him to Simone.

  Shasta heavily sighs and tosses her hair back. “Well, if you ever decide to kick him out of your bed, send him my way.” She laughs, but I know she’s not even joking.

  I laugh on the outside, but am raging on the inside. “Never getting rid of him.”

  Back off, bitch.

  “Damn,” she says with disappointment, not even trying to hide it.

  Morgan sneers, “You’d actually date a coworker’s leftovers?”

  “Well, if he was available. Why not? He is gorgeous.”

  Trying to stay civil, I keep my growling in check. “I know he is.”

  Shasta probes, “You’ve been dating Finn for a year?” She and Betsy both look cynically from me to Rod and then at me again.

  “Three years.” I correct her.

  Betsy looks at my left hand. “That’s a long time. Isn’t he going to put a ring on it?” This damn question is really plucking my last nerve like a bird snapping at a worm stuck in dried cement.

  “I don’t know. We’re living together. That’s good enough for me.” Almost living together. Close enough.

  Morgan steps up to both of them with her arms crossed, preparing to go to battle for me once more. However, I’m ready to prevent her from doing so this time. “What does it matter if they’re going to get married or not?”

  “I just wondered how serious they were.”

  “Extremely. He has a tattoo of the nickname he gave her and did it on TV. That’s pretty tenacious, don’t you think? If you can’t see how much he loves her just from that, then you’re clueless.”

  Shasta shrugs and laughs. “He could always get it changed or removed.”

  I adamantly shake my head. “He’d never do that.” He’d better not!

  Behind Shasta, I notice Finn returning to the field. He’s holding his clipboard and is again, all business. All coach. Even his sunglasses are back on his face. Mechanically as if he called me to him or pulled on my leash, I step away from the grand jury to meet him, and they follow. Finn glances my way, transitorily licks his lips and hurriedly looks away again, his walls once more up and reinforced with cement, barbed wire, and 10 Pinkerton guards.

  We all gather and take a seat in the grass in front of him. Sparks looks out at us, I think. I’m not sure since his eyes are concealed. He stiffly says, “I’d like to thank everyone for your cooperation in the interviews.”

  Rod snorts and slaps my back. “Especially Hadley, here. She was extremely cooperative with you.”

  Morgan slaps Rod on the back harder. “Dick Rod, you’re just jealous you didn’t get a kiss from him.”

  I hear Finn’s d
eep intake of breath as he lowers his clipboard, holding it against him like a shield. “Okay. As you all just saw, I kissed Hadley.” He did? I thought I kissed him? “Yes. We are a couple and have been for the past three years.” He pulls the clipboard up, essentially finished talking about his private life, having already put too much of it on public display for the rest of his life. “Anyway, I have made a list and assigned positions for you. If you have suggestions to make or have any questions, we’ll address them afterward.”

  Rod whispers, “Hundred bucks you’re his bat girl.” I heave him away from me and intently stare at Finn. Is he going to give me a crap position just to put distance between us because of all of my new haters?

  “Our first pitcher will be Crick.”

  Rod leans into me again. “Really, Wilder?”

  “Our second pitcher is Rod. Catcher will be Amos.”

  Rod practically convulses at that announcement. He heatedly whispers to me, “Oh my God! Is that a fucking joke? I’m not gay!” I cover my mouth and bow my head as I laugh. Rod punches my arm and I whimper. He swiftly rubs the spot he hit and mumbles an apology. He’s definitely been lifting weights, or Dumpsters.

  Morgan tosses at Rod, “Maybe you’re the last to know.” Rod reaches in front of me and offers his middle finger to Morgan, which again earns him a stern glare from Val, and a hissed curse from Rod in response.

  Finn continues, “First base is Grant and Betsy. Second is Val. Third is Shasta and Rhonda. Shortstop is Brandon. Hadley is left field. Gloria, center. Sylvie is right field. Morgan, scorekeeper and water girl.”

  I’ve been relegated to actually being out in left field? What the hell?

  “If we need to make any adjustments or need to pull someone to fill another position, we’ll do that. Nothing is written in stone.”

  He’d better believe it isn’t.

  After Finn dismisses us, I go home and take a shower. I had wanted to talk to him after practice, but he was too busy talking to Ricky. I didn’t want to interrupt because Ricky looked rather grim and not in a joking mood. I also didn’t want to get into an argument with him before he had to go to work. His viewers don’t need to see him like that. Once was enough.