Perfect Game

by Collette West

  I jump at hearing my name.

  "What did I tell you about watching that mouth of yours?" My manager, Tony Liotta, pretends to glare at me, but his eyes are saying otherwise.

  "Oh, my mouth is doing just fine, Tony," I brag, my cockiness reasserting itself thanks to the girl in my arms. "It's other parts of me I'm not so sure about."

  This beautiful woman desires me just as much as I desire her. I glance down into Carrie's flushed face, aware that I'm the one who put that delectable shade of pink in her cheeks, and I gotta admit that I'm pretty proud of it.

  "Pull yourself together, goddamn it," Tony gripes, marching by us. "You're about to take the field."

  Carrie lowers her head as Tony passes, gazing down at my uniform. Once Tony's gone, she whispers, "You're filling out those pants mighty nice, Harper."

  "Is it all right if I wear them home?" I tease, jutting my hips against her so she can feel for herself just how hard I am for her.

  "I might insist on it," she groans, turning around.

  I wonder what she's up to until she dips down and starts twerking against me, teasing me like she did after I'd asked her out in Panama.

  "Then I'll try not to get them too dirty," I mutter, placing my hands on her waist and rolling her hips against me.

  "They'll never be as dirty as the thoughts running through my mind right now," she taunts me.

  "Care Bear…" I moan when I feel myself entering the danger zone.

  Hell, this girl can make me come with her eyes, never mind her ass when it's bouncing up against my dick. If I hadn't been loose before, I'm all kinds of tight now.

  "Okay, I'm going," she whispers, throwing her arms around my neck and giving me one last kiss on the lips before reaching down for my bat. Handing it to me, she says, "Just knock the hell out of the ball tonight 'cause I'm really looking forward to finishing what we started once we get home."

  Carrie turns around, and I playfully slap her ass as she grins at me over her shoulder. She walks away, swinging her hips for my benefit, knowing that I'm watching her. When she's gone, I tuck my bat under my arm and splay my hands against the wall. I take some deep breaths, stretching the muscles in my back and telling my dick to calm the fuck down. I'm going to have enough eyes on me tonight without everyone staring at the bulge below my belt, where Carrie's eyes are sure to be focused.

  Maybe I am the eye candy on the team, but the only mouth I plan on melting in is hers.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Carrie

  "You can see that fatigue must be setting in as Scott Harper whiffs on the first pitch of what's most likely his last at-bat of the game."

  I listen to the podcast version of Andy's broadcast in my ear as I sit in the stands with Scott's family along with Alex and my mom. My eyes are riveted on Scott as Andy describes the action unfolding in front of me.

  "The fastball of Baltimore's reliever, Orlando Martinez, is clocking in at ninety-nine miles per hour and Scott just couldn't catch up with it. There's some bad blood between Martinez and the Kings considering how Martinez was the one who clocked Sasha Roberts in the head two seasons ago. The bench-clearing brawl that ensued resulted in multiple suspensions. So it's an ironic twist of fate that Martinez might be the one to end Harper's hitting streak at fifty-six games. I'm sure there's no one Scotty would like to get a hit off of more than Orlando Martinez."

  I lower my head and groan. "I don't think I can watch."

  "C'mere." Alex pulls the earbud I have jammed in my ear out and scoots closer to me. "Let me hold your hand."

  "I'm so glad you're all here." I smile down the row. This is it. This is Scott's last chance at baseball immortality.

  "Are you kidding?" Scott's mom calls out to me, striving to be heard over everyone screaming and yelling around us. "I wish we could've been here last night, but things happened so fast. Your mom was nice enough to get us on the first flight out this morning."

  "C'mon, Scotty!" Bob roars in a voice that I'm sure had many of the soldiers serving under him shaking in their boots. "Take this son of a bitch deep!"

  "Wow! Go Bob!" I laugh, winking at Alex.

  "I think he's as nervous as Scott is," Alex responds blushing, but I can tell she likes it. She's always had a thing for deep, manly voices.

  Bob unsteadily gets to his feet on his prosthetic legs, hollering, "That's it! Work the count! Make him throw you what you want!"

  "Careful there, babe," Alex cautions, letting my hand go and reaching out to hold on to one of Bob's belt loops. "We don't want you falling over."

  "I just want Scotty to hear me," Bob grumbles, not caring in the least that Alex's hands are practically cupping his ass in front of a stadium full of people.

  Ah, these Harper boys.

  "Holy shit. They just put us on the Jumbotron," I mutter and immediately see Bob's shoulders tense.

  "Don't freak, Bob. It was only for a minute," Alex soothes him, rubbing his back. "See? We're already off."

  "But did you hear the response from the crowd?" I smile at my mom.

  The New York fans are psyched to see Bob standing and not in a wheelchair. They're well aware of his story. They're the best fans in the world because they know their stuff.

  "Aww, look. Scott just turned around and pointed his bat at us." Alex grins at me before standing up and shouting, "He saw us!" in Bob's ear.

  The crowd takes up the chant, "SCOT-TY HAR-PER!" Clap, clap, CLAP, CLAP, CLAP. "SCOT-TY HAR-PER!"

  "I think the whole stadium is shaking!" Bob cries out, ecstatic. "I can feel it through my legs. I can fuckin' feel it through my legs!" He bends down and kisses Alex, and I feel tears brimming in my eyes.

  "Thank you," Alex mouths to me over Bob's shoulder when he leans in to give her a hug.

  "No. Thank you!" I mouth back, giving Alex a big thumbs-up.

  Crack.

  My heart soars when Scott's bat makes contact with the ball, and I shove my earbud back in to listen to Andy's call.

  "Jimmy Hunter keeps going back, way back. He's at the wall, at the track and…it's GONE! Scott Harper homers deep to right and claims his place atop the record books in grand style! His historic home run wins the game for the Kings as they squeak by Baltimore five to four!"

  And everything around me seems to go by in slow motion.

  "He did it! He freakin' hit a homer!" Bob yells, jumping up and down before quickly losing his balance and toppling into one of the empty seats, taking Alex down with him. "I didn't hurt you, did I?" I hear Bob ask Alex through all the tumult.

  "No. Just kiss me," Alex responds, capturing his lips, the two of them crammed together in the tiny seat.

  "That's my son!" Scott's dad calls out, pointing at the field before hugging his wife, tears streaming down his face.

  I watch Scott rounding the bases, pumping his fist in the air. His childlike exuberance warms my heart because I know how much this means to him, getting to make history in a Kings' uniform.

  I lean over and embrace my mom. "Thank you so much for bringing him back."

  Mom rubs my shoulders. "He's one of the special ones, and they're the ones you have to fight for." She laughs as all the guys swarm him when he crosses home plate, thumping his helmet and going crazy. "Besides"—she gives me a sidelong glance—"don't you have a post-game interview to conduct?"

  "Oh my God, I almost forgot!" I turn to face her, my eyes going wide.

  "Get out there, sis!" Alex yells over, still wrapped in Bob's arms.

  "I think we should all go out there," Mom says, realizing what a special moment it would be for Scott to have his family on the field with him. "C'mon. Follow me."

  "Are you sure we're allowed?" Scott's dad asks as my mom opens the chain link gate leading to the field that's right in front of our front-row seats beside the Kings' dugout.

  "Shush, Sarge." Scott's mom smacks her husband's arm. "Diane's the owner. She can do whatever she wants. Let's go see our boy!"

  But I can't wait for everyone to file out. Inst
ead, I hop the fence, glad that I'm not wearing my customary five-inch heels, and jog toward the K-TV crew. "Sammy, are you ready for me?"

  "We have the all clear as soon as you can get near Scott," Sammy replies before handing me the mic.

  "Which is gonna be hard." I bite my lip, surveying the situation. "Jesus, does Jilly have him up on his shoulders? Oh, God, my mom must be freaking out."

  Sammy shuffles his feet as we watch Jake dump the Gatorade cooler over Scott's head, and we both laugh when we hear Scott let out a roar.

  "I bet you're glad that wasn't you," Sammy jokes.

  "Yeah, you can say that again. That stuff's nasty!" I giggle, watching Scott shake himself off like a wet dog.

  Sammy turns his gaze to me. "You two have been through a lot, and I just wanna say that I'm happy for the both of you."

  I glance over at Sammy, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. "Thanks, Sammy."

  "I just hope your replacement is as hot as you are," he teases, the corner of his mouth turning up.

  "I heard he is," I respond, straight-faced.

  "He?" he sputters.

  I shrug, trying to hide my smile. "It's the new ownership shaking things up."

  "Shit. You're gonna leave me with some douchebag, aren't you?" Sammy groans. "You expect me to carry his makeup bag around, too?"

  "I don't know how much mascara you tend to wear." I pause, intently scanning his face. "But you'll have to carry your own damn makeup bag."

  "Are you saying what I think you're saying?" he asks, a hopeful gleam in his eye.

  "It's yours if you want it, Sammy." I smile, watching him walk in a circle like he can't quite wrap his head around it. "To hell with us blond bimbos having all the fun. I think you'd be great at it."

  He puts his camera down, holding his hands to his head in disbelief. "McKenzie, I'd friggin' kiss you right now, but I don't want Harper beating the shit outta me later."

  I nod at him, giving him a wink. "Smart move, my friend. Just go easy on Scott when you stick a mic in his face. I think he's going to be having some separation anxiety for a while."

  "By the way, he's looking at you right now. I think it's already setting in." Sammy juts his chin across the diamond, and I take off at a run, not bothering to wait for him to pick his camera up.

  "Scott, you did it, baby! I'm so proud of you!" I exclaim, ready to launch myself into his sticky arms, but Sammy holds me back, pointing at the object I'm grasping in my hand. "Oh shit. My mic is on!"

  "That's okay. I think everybody already knows how you feel about me," Scott replies, undressing me with his eyes in front of fifty thousand screaming fans.

  My producer, John, must've patched the audio feed into the PA system, because Scott's deep, sexy voice reverberates through the stadium, deliciously throbbing right through me.

  "Is that right?" My mouth is way ahead of my brain, and I flirt back with my sexy boyfriend, momentarily forgetting that I have a job to do.

  "And now, I want them to know how much I care about you," Scott says, intently focused on my face despite the fact that he just shattered one of the longest-standing records in baseball history.

  "Scott, what are you doing?" My heart starts fluttering in my chest when he takes the microphone out of my hands and gets down on one knee.

  He stares up at me, his eyes full of love and devotion as he pulls something out of his back pocket. Then he opens his hand to reveal a diamond ring. My knees start to shake and I can't breathe. He's really doing this here, in front of all of these people, on live TV.

  But the words Scott says next are the ones I've been yearning to hear, whether I'm just realizing it now or not.

  "Carrie McKenzie, will you marry me?"

  "What?!" I shriek louder than when he doused me with Gatorade all those months ago.

  Scott chuckles, playing up to the crowd. "Folks, I think I'm gonna need your help convincing her. She's not big on public displays of affection, but what would y'all say if I kissed her right now? She made me a bet when this all started, saying that she'd kiss me instead of my bat if I broke this hitting streak. So I think now's the time for her to pay up."

  "Scott, I'm going to kill you," I mutter through clenched teeth, taking a step toward Sammy.

  "You're not backing away from me, are you?" Scott says into the mic, holding his hand to his ear and encouraging the crowd to get into the act.

  It doesn't take long for them to start chanting, "KISS HIM! KISS HIM! KISS HIM!"

  I grab the mic from Scott. "You are so dead, Harper."

  The crowd erupts into laughter as I hold my hand out and Scott slides the ring into place. I blink back tears as he gets to his feet, his gray eyes shining like the moonlit beach we walked across in Panama where he first made me feel so special and complete.

  "Now, shut up and kiss me, Care Bear," Scott groans, lifting me in his arms and soaking me straight through with Gatorade.

  He puts his whole heart and soul into it, letting me know how happy I've just made him. I kiss him back, unable to get enough of him, knowing that my saying yes means more to him than the astounding feat he just achieved on the field. No one has ever made me feel like I come first and always will—only Scott.

  Sammy clears his throat when Scott's roaming hands start lifting up the bottom of my shirt. "Okay, break it up, you two. John's going ballistic in my ear, yelling that, if you take it any further, we're gonna be fined by the FCC."

  Scott gives me that cocky grin of his, slowly lowering me to my feet. I'm his and he knows it, but then again—I drop my eyes below his belt and feel my face get hot—he's mine, too.

  Jake comes running up behind us, and Scott turns when Jake slaps him on the back.

  "Woodchucker, did you run in and get it?"

  "Yep. Here you go, my man," Jake responds, smiling at us as he slips something into Scott's hand.

  I furrow my brow at him when I see what it is. "Your phone? I don't get it."

  Scott rests his cheek against mine, holding it out in front of us. "Smile, Care Bear. This is one selfie I'm gonna want everybody to see—the moment you agreed to be my wife."

  Epilogue

  Scott

  "First Chase, then Brooks, and Jilly, and now you. Shit, Scott," Jake groans, looking debonair in his tux. "You're all leaving me stranded in bachelor exile."

  "Hang in there, man. You're bound to meet the girl of your dreams eventually," I assure Jake, being that he's the one who's about to perform the wedding ceremony and all. "Trust me. I never thought anyone'd take me off the market till I met Carrie."

  "And having the first-ever wedding in Kings Stadium history?" Jake bumps my fist with his. "Pretty impressive feat, dude."

  "It helps when your future mother-in-law owns the joint," I joke, staring down into the dugout, impatient for Carrie to come out.

  "Uh, I wouldn't say that too loud if I were you," Jake warns.

  "Why? What's the—" I spin around, losing all train of thought when I come face-to-face with Arnold Heimlich.

  "Harper, gloat all you want, but this never would have happened in my day." Arnold's robotic voice scolds me without hesitation, letting me know he must've preprogrammed his stinging rebuke so he could zing me with it at the first opportunity. "This field is meant for baseball, and baseball only."

  "I know, sir." I stand up straight, throwing my shoulders back. "It's an honor and a privilege to be marrying your granddaughter here today."

  "Must be nice," Roberta grumbles beside Arnold, idly examining her nails.

  "What was that, Roberta?" I challenge her, not about to let her get away with putting a damper on my big day.

  "Maybe it'll happen twice," Roberta says more loudly, giving me a sickeningly sweet smile.

  "Now, don't be getting any ideas," Arnold's voice rat-a-tats out of the speaker like machine-gun fire. "I don't want my daughter turning this place into a made-for-hire wedding chapel. This isn't Las Vegas."

  "Uh, Roberta," Jake says in that bashful, aw-shucks way of h
is. "Care to join me for a tour of the dugout?"

  Roberta stares Jake down for half a second before taking his arm. "Why not?"

  I shake my head, watching them walk down the aisle runner leading to home plate. Jake sure knows how to pick 'em. And damn it if he didn't just leave me alone with Arnold.

  An uncomfortable few moments pass in silence. I rock back on my heels, preparing myself for the verbal bitch slap he's about to unleash on my ass. But he appraises me for a minute before allowing the digitized voice to speak his words for him.

  "You treat my Carrie right, not like Charles treated her mother."

  I swallow hard, realizing that that must not have been easy for him to say. "I'll treasure her for the rest of my life, sir."

  Arnold harrumphs. "And I will be there to make sure that you do."

  I smile over at him. "I'm glad you're the one walking her down the aisle today, sir."

  "Who said anything about walking?" Bobby chuckles, bursting right into the conversation.

  Oh dear lord, what the heck is the matter with him? Does he have a death wish or something?

  I quickly backpedal, trying desperately to cover for my brother's insinuating remark. "I think you're doing mighty fine, Mr. Heimlich. You never looked better."

  "And who is this wiseass?" Arnold asks, sizing Bobby up.

  "This is my brother, Bob." I nervously clear my throat. "My best man."

  "Looks like we're both part machine, Mr. Heimlich. With your voice and my legs, we'd make one hell of a cyborg," Bobby quips, making me cringe down to my very soul. "If you could've only seen me play ball back in high school, you would've drafted me on the spot instead of this sad excuse for a major-leaguer over here."

  I try to play it off, hoping for the best. "Hey, didn't I just break the unbreakable record this season?"

  "But you didn't win the World Series," Bobby says, slamming me hard in front of my old boss.

  "Dude, it came down to the ninth inning of the seventh game. You don't get much closer than that," I respond, getting mad at him for making me defend the Kings' performance in the World Series in front of Arnold.

  "You still did not win," Arnold replies for Bobby before wheeling his way down the line.