Dan Alexander, Pitcher

by Jean C. Joachim

  “Didn’t we just do this a few hours ago?”

  “Did we? Hmm,” he said, rubbing his stubbly chin. “It felt so good, I think we should do it again. Besides, never done it here.”

  The timer went off. Holly jumped down, took out the pie, and placed it away from the stove.

  “Where were we?” She cocked her head.

  Dan picked her up and deposited her back where she had been.

  “Right here,” he said, slipping a hand under each of her knees. He lifted them and bent over. She leaned back against the cabinets. As soon as his tongue met her flesh, it was like a match to gasoline. Desire zinged through her body.

  Holly raked her fingers through his hair. He slid his fingers up the back of her thighs until they gripped her hips. His big hands palmed her flesh while his thumbs came to rest on her sex.

  With her breath coming in short spurts, Holly moaned. “Do it, Dan. Do it.”

  He raised his head, his gaze connecting with hers. “Did I hear something?”

  “Come on, you know.”

  He laughed. “Are you begging for my dick?”

  “You know I am.”

  “Always give the lady what she wants,” he said.

  With Holly now on the pill, Dan skipped the condom. He stepped up, rubbed himself up and down her once, and then entered. Clasping his hands around her hips, he slid her toward him, pushing in all the way. Holly raised her knees until her heels rested against the edge of the countertop.

  “Oh, baby,” he said, shutting his eyes and thrusting in hard.

  She leaned her face against his pecs, inhaling his unique, masculine scent, sweetened by a slight bit of his aftershave. His chest hair tickled her nose. His skin warmed her cool cheek as he moved in and out of her. God, it was so good. She kissed the space between his muscles then gave a small lick to his nipple, which elicited a groan from him. She flattened her tongue and swiped it over a larger area, tasting a slightly salty Dan.

  “Holy Hell! When you do that.” He gasped.

  Tension coiled up in her, growing rapidly. She squirmed for a moment before the passion took over, making her limp. Her head lolled against him. She was powerless to move as an orgasm of epic proportion built inside. He pumped faster and harder, bringing release roaring through her body. Colors flashed past her eyes as every muscle clenched then let go, sending pure pleasure to every part of her.

  Dan followed shortly after with a loud grunt then a long, drawn out groan. Three deep breaths brought Holly back to Earth.

  “Kitchen sex. Who knew?” she muttered, tightening her arms around his neck. She tilted her chin up for his kiss. It started out sweet and grew hotter. Barely able to breathe, she pushed away from him. “You’re incredible.”

  “No, you are,” he responded. “You’re so hot, we don’t need the stove.”

  “You’re so hot, you overheat on the highway.”

  He pulled out of her, grabbed a paper napkin, and wedged it between her legs. “You’re so hot, the sun takes lessons from you.”

  “You’re so hot, you’re your own star,” she said.

  “You’re so hot, I can fry an egg on your butt.” He burst out laughing. “But would you want to eat it after?”

  She made a face and giggled. “You’re so hot, you’re five alarm.”

  “You’re so hot, every guy in the stadium wants you.”

  “You’re so hot, I can light a cigarette by pressing it against your arm.”

  “You’re so hot, you carry a fire extinguisher in your purse,” he said.

  “You’re so hot, you can light a campfire by rubbing your fingers together.”

  “You’re so hot, you have a fire hydrant in your apartment,” he countered.

  “You’re so hot, you make me come hard every time we make love.” She cupped his cheek.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” She smiled into his eyes.

  He kissed her. “Pie?” he murmured into her hair.

  She leaned back and glanced up at him. “Apple pie?”

  He nodded as he lifted her off the counter. Holly went to the bathroom to wash up. When she returned, she caught Dan sticking his finger into the pie.

  “Who are you? Lil Jack Horner?” She laughed. “Wait a second.”

  She rummaged through the top drawer until she found a sharp knife. Dan took down two plates. Holly cut the warm confection carefully then slid a piece onto each.

  “You take the big one.”

  “I won’t argue with you.” He took his pie, grabbed two forks, offered one to her, and then placed his dish on the table. He retrieved his boxers and sat down.

  Holly joined him, reheating their cold coffee in the microwave. Dan dug into the sweet as if he hadn’t eaten in two weeks. He polished off one piece and went back for a second.

  “Stay there. I can get it myself,” he said, heading for the counter.

  She watched him down three pieces and two mugs of coffee then rub his stomach.

  “Now that’s an amazing breakfast.” He sat back, grinning at her. After one glance at the clock, he jumped up. “Shit. I’m gonna be late if I don’t get out of here.”

  Holly took the dishes to the sink.

  He stopped to kiss her. “You make it hard to leave.”

  “Maybe I should go?”

  “Don’t you dare!” Another smooch and he was headed for the bathroom. Dressed in sweats and ready to leave in twenty minutes, Dan paused to wish her a good day before he was out the door.

  She pulled out one of Nancy’s recipes for beef stew, turned on the radio, and began to gather her ingredients. She grinned to herself. Wild child goes domestic. She shook her head, unable to believe how happy Dan made her. Maybe a normal life was within her grasp? If you can call living with a rich baseball pitcher who’s the hottest thing on two legs normal.

  She laughed as she scooped out flour for dredging.

  Chapter Eleven

  Dan pulled his car into his usual parking space. His blood was pumping, and his heart floated. World’s best apple pie for breakfast. The trainer wouldn’t much like that, but hey, sometimes rules were made to be broken.

  He entered the locker room to grab his glove before hitting the practice field. Nat, Skip and Matt were just leaving.

  “It’s about time,” Matt piped up.

  “Where’ve you been?” Skip asked.

  “He’s living with Hot Dog Girl,” Nat said, with a chuckle.

  Dan bristled. “Her name’s Holly.”

  “She better not fuck up your game,” Matt said.

  “She’ll be great for my game.”

  “At least he’s getting laid,” Nat said.

  “And apple pie too,” Dan said.

  “Apple pie? Is that a new position? Never heard of it,” Skip said.

  Dan cracked up and joined his friends. He took a run around the track with Matt. Then, Dan practiced his change-up pitch. After half an hour, the men broke for water.

  “It’s serious with the hot dog chick?” Matt asked.

  Dan frowned. “You mean Holly?”

  “Yeah, yeah, Holly.”

  “I don’t know. We’re trying it out for three weeks. Living together.”

  “That sounds pretty serious.” Matt reached for a second bottle of water.

  “I guess. She’s not like other women.”

  “So, she wasn’t cheating while we were on the road?”

  Dan shook his head. “Nope. She had another reason for not taking my calls.”

  “What was it?”

  “I can’t tell you. You’ll find out soon enough, but not yet.”

  “Secret, huh? Sounds like spy stuff,” Matt replied, taking a slug of water.

  “Sort of, but not really. Trust me. I’ll tell you when I can.”

  “I do, buddy, I do.” Matt slapped the pitcher on the back, and the two went back to practice.

  Dan took batting practice and bunting practice before he went back to pitching. At three, they broke for the day and
hit the showers. Skip showered next to Dan and Matt.

  “Lover Boy hit ninety-two miles an hour today,” Matt said.

  “Lover Boy? You mean the guy who loves hot dogs, don’t you?” Skip asked.

  “Woo hoo!” Jake piped up.

  “All right, all right. Her name is Holly. And, yeah, ninety-two today. First time,” Dan said.

  “I guess getting laid regularly is helping your pitching,” Matt said.

  “What are you doing with that arm, anyway?” Skip asked.

  Dan rinsed off and reached for a towel. “Fuck off.”

  “Ooooh, the Change-Up King is touchy,” Jake said.

  “Step out here, and I’ll show you how touchy I am.”

  The men cracked up.

  “And get fired from the team when our star pitcher breaks his hand slugging my iron jaw? No, thanks.” Jake stepped back under the warm spray.

  The guys continued to bait him, but when he didn’t react, they turned on each other. Dan grinned. He had a reason to race home. The most beautiful girl in the world was waiting for him. Maybe she even had dinner on the stove?

  The other men were single. They had all the time in the world to waste being stupid. But not Dan. He had three weeks to win her heart. No time to waste now. He pulled up and flipped the keys to the valet, who tipped his hat. The pitcher whistled and tapped his foot while he waited for the elevator.

  A couple of firemen in the lobby asked him for an autograph, and he was happy to oblige. The smell of smoke reached him about four floors below his. When the doors opened, there were other firemen in the hall heading for the elevator.

  “Don’t worry. Everything’s okay now,” one said as he passed Dan.

  He ran down the hall to his apartment where the acrid smell of old smoke greeted him. Holly! He pushed through the door and around two firemen, who tipped their hats to him. He rounded the corner to the kitchen.

  There sat Holly, head on her arms, sobbing. Water dripped from the ceiling and the cabinets to pool on the floor. A large pot on the stove was filled with water. In it, several pieces of badly charred meat floated.

  “Holly. Baby. What happened?” He cupped her shoulder.

  She raised a tear-stained face and took a deep breath. “I was making Nancy’s beef stew when I fell asleep on the couch. The smoke alarm went off, the beef caught fire, the sprinkler system went on, someone called the fire department, and dinner is ruined!” she wailed, covering her face with her hands.

  Dan folded her into his embrace and whispered in her ear, “I didn’t ask you here to cook and clean for me, baby.”

  “I want to be useful. Do something.” Her voice shuddered, and her sobs calmed.

  “You are, honey. You are.”

  “Maybe if you didn’t keep me up late making love, I wouldn’t fall asleep doing dinner.” She blinked up at him.

  Dan laughed, brushing her hair off her face.

  She pushed away from him. “I have to get this mess cleaned up.”

  He held up his hand. “Stop. I have a cleaning service,” he said, whipping out his cell. “I’ll call them, and they’ll take care of it.”

  “But all that food wasted.” She swiped at a tear.

  “Let’s go out to dinner.”

  “But…”

  “Stop! No more. You had a bad day. That’s all. Let’s forget about it.”

  “You’re not mad?”

  “How could I be mad when my girl makes dinner for me?”

  “You’re amazing,” she said, wiping her cheek with a tissue.

  He dialed. While the number connected, he hugged her to him. “Joe’s Cleaning? Yeah. It’s Dan Alexander. I have an emergency job.”

  * * * *

  They’d finished their first week together, and, despite the fire in the kitchen, Holly couldn’t believe they were getting along great. As her comfort level increased, she got fussy about the apartment. He had to take off his shoes at the door.

  “Floors are made to be walked on,” he said, balking at removing his sneakers.

  “Yes, but not with dirty, muddy, disgusting workout shoes.”

  “These aren’t disgusting,” he said, lifting one leg to look at the bottom.

  “Really? Take a good look.”

  “Are you a neat freak?” he asked.

  “Nope. But a freshly cleaned floor should stay that way for a day or two.”

  “Do I have to do this every day?”

  She nodded. “You’ll get used to it. Besides, all barefoot men get foot rubs.” She tossed him a saucy grin.

  He smirked. “In that case…” He toed off his sneakers. “I’m ready.”

  “Meet me in the bedroom,” she said, her hips swaying as she walked.

  Sometimes, Dan was the fastidious one.

  He flipped out when she used his towel.

  “But don’t you guys just pick up any towel that’s lying around the locker room?”

  “No way! Anyone touches my towel, they have to answer to me. Who knows what kind of diseases some of those guys have? The way they sleep around. Geez. I’m disease free, and I’d like to stay that way.”

  “I’m sorry. I just dried my hands on your towel. I don’t have any diseases.”

  “I’m sorry I yelled. Of course, you don’t. Just a knee-jerk reaction.” He kissed her.

  “I promise not to do it again,” she said.

  The next day, she happened on a little store selling linens and bought herself two pink towels. She knew he’d never use them, and she’d always remember which was hers.

  As the second week began, Holly stuffed down the panic that surrounded her heart. The days zoomed by. She dreaded her appearance at the trial and leaving Dan. If only she could stop the clock and make her three weeks stretch into three years. Since that wasn’t possible, she dressed for work each day, as usual, praying their connection would last.

  Holly rode to the stadium with Dan. He was quiet and preoccupied on the days he’d be pitching. She understood and didn’t bother him, but looked out the window instead. She wondered if others they passed were as happy as she was. Refusing to think about what awaited her in two weeks, she’d made up her mind to live in the present and enjoy every moment with Dan.

  He parked the car and took her hand. They kissed goodbye at the entrance to the locker room. She turned right and headed for the concession stand. When the game got underway, Dan doffed his hat and smiled at her. She grinned back. Even that simple drop of attention warmed her heart.

  “Hot dogs, get yer hot dogs,” she chanted as she moved up and down the aisle. The first batter from the Atlanta Athletics was up. She stopped to watch the wind up and the pitch.

  “Strike,” the umpire called.

  Three straight pitches, and he struck him out. Holly beamed with pride. Dan blew on his fingers, straightened his cap and faced the second batter. It’s always good luck when he gets the first batter out.

  Dan fired a pitch across the plate, and she saw the speed on the Jumbotron. Ninety-three miles an hour! A new record for him. The crowd went wild as the second batter fanned—second out.

  After Atlanta made their three outs, Nat, Skip, and Bobby came to the plate and did their jobs, loading the bases for Jake Lawrence. In the top of the inning, the Athletics had hit a solo homer, making the score one-nothing. Now, Jake had a chance to put the Nighthawks out in front with a comfortable lead. The guy on the mound wiped his face twice, but the sweat kept coming. He sent one down the middle, and Jake jumped on it.

  Holly watched the ball soar higher and higher until it landed in the third tier seats. A grand slam homerun! Fans went wild. One man jumped out of his seat, grabbed her, and danced around. Jake’s teammates waited for him at home plate. They high-fived and hugged. She spied the men dancing in the dugout and on the Jumbotron it showed them mobbing Jake.

  It was early September, and every game counted. The Nighthawks were in a three-way race with the Athletics and the Boston Bluejays for a slot in the playoffs. Now, they were lead
ing, four to one in the bottom of the fifth. She knew that anything could happen before the game ended. She prayed that the ’Hawks could hold onto their lead. The homer charged up the spectators. Cheering got louder, and some fans got a bit rowdy, cursing and fighting. The stadium security team stepped in to return order to the stands. Holly had never seen such an exciting game. Every pitch counted. She noticed Dan’s concentration didn’t waver as he stared at Matt then the batter. By the seventh inning stretch, he continued to rifle the ball at ninety and hit the strike zone seventy percent of the time.

  The score was still four to one. One Athletic flied out to Skip at shortstop, one hit a single to left field, and the third drew a walk from Dan. With the count two balls and one strike, Cal Crawley came out of the dugout. Dan would be coming to bat in the bottom of the seventh. Holly wondered if the manager would take him out. Matt joined the two men. They lowered their heads so no one could read their lips. Then, Crawley and Matt returned to their place, and Dan clutched the ball with both hands, preparing to go into his wind up.

  He shook off Matt’s first signal then nodded for the second one. A strike was called then a swing and a miss. The next batter popped up a foul ball, and Matt Jackson caught it, for the third out. Dan wiped the sweat from his brow. He looked like he blew out a big breath. She figured he’d be happy to hand over the game to a relief pitcher.

  The ’Hawks started the bottom of the seventh with Matt. He singled to right, but had to hustle to beat out the throw. The next batter fouled out to the first baseman, and third man up stuck out. The pinch hitter for the pitcher walloped the ball over the fence for a two-run homer.

  The reliever who went in for Dan gave up two runs in the top of the eighth. The score stood six to three when the Athletics’ slugger picked up the bat. With one man on base, a homer would put them behind by only one run. Holly held her breath.

  The ball came sailing down the middle, and the power hitter took advantage by putting it in the left field seats. The score was Atlanta, five, New York, six. The Hot Dog Girl began to sweat. So did Spencer Larkin, the reliever, but he got the next man out to end the inning. Only one more to go to claim the win.