Switch Hitter

by Cheyenne Meadows

  Tucker carried his duffel bag to his locker and set it down on the small bench running nearly the length of the room. He opened the metal door, pulled out his practice jersey, and started stripping down.

  “Tucker. Saw you at the party. Man, you were hitting the booze hard.” Shorty, the relief catcher, plopped down next to his bag. “Looked like you were trying to bury some problems.”

  A low growl escaped Tucker’s throat. He liked Shorty well enough but drew the line at him digging into his personal life.

  Shorty held up his hands. “Right. None of my business.” He stood and hastened out the door leading into the dugout.

  Tucker took the opportunity to enjoy the silence and familiarity of the Predators team room. Home away from home, in his opinion. At least for most of the year and when they weren’t traveling to or from away games.

  He grabbed his bag, filled with clothes for a weeklong series, and stuffed it into the locker. They had an abbreviated practice today before leaving on a road trip. Normally, he looked forward to traveling, seeing the other stadiums and the land in between. Today was the exception. He’d rather stay home and avoid the whole ordeal.

  No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get Dixon off his mind. Every waking hour, he found himself returning to the big event, reliving that experience through graphic and hot memories. Along with that came guilt for being such an ass to Dixon and concern about how his friend coped with such a harsh rejection.

  “I’m such an idiot.”

  “Depends on how you look at it.”

  Dixon’s voice startled Tucker. He spun around to see Dixon just inside the doorway, with the strap of his own bag resting on his shoulder. Dressed in loose khakis and a light beige shirt, Dixon looked good. Really good. His light brown hair contrasted with his amber eyes, adding intelligence and character to his handsome face. From the slightly square jaw to the high cheekbones to the small misalignment of his nose, Dixon radiated sexiness. The rest of his body didn’t do too badly either. As he stepped closer, the pants tightened over thick muscles, hinting at the power and prime conditioning Dixon carried.

  Damn Dixon and his stealth.

  How many times had he rehearsed what he’d say when he came face-to-face with Dixon? Dozens? Yet, now that the situation was here, he found himself mute.

  “Cat got your tongue?” Dixon stopped a few feet from Tucker and arched an eyebrow. More of a challenge rather than mocking.

  “Dixon.” Tucker acknowledged him before tugging his shirt off and quickly replacing it with his uniform top. He focused on the task while trying to get his speeding heart back under control along with his raging desire at seeing Dixon again. The last thing he needed was to sport a hard-on in the locker room.

  He’d thought the sex appeal would fade quickly. He was wrong.

  Dixon’s presence alone revved his motor and stoked his libido. The knowledge that Dixon still had to change only added fuel to the already blazing fire.

  I’m not gay.

  Then why are you panting with want?

  A great time for my inner wild dog to get chatty. Not. Tucker sighed to himself and countered. One and done. It’s over.

  Keep telling yourself that. I know better.

  Dixon moved a couple of steps closer, setting his bag on the opposite bench. His gaze, though, never left Tucker. Tucker knew because he couldn’t pry his eyes off Dixon for anything.

  If there was another place to get dressed, Tucker would have gladly collected his gear and marched over there. Unfortunately, this was it. With practice starting soon, he really didn’t have a choice but to change right in front of Dixon.

  He’s seen it all anyway. Seen it. Tasted it. Touched it. Fucked it.

  The blunt words prodded him to get in gear. After placing his back to Dixon, he shucked his pants, let them fall into a puddle at his feet, then stepped out of the cloth shackles.

  “Nice.”

  Tucker glimpsed Dixon pulling his lips back into an odd grin. He read the body language easily. Dixon was checking the air for pheromones. He’d find them too. Especially since Tucker grappled with his own horniness at the moment.

  That or he smells himself on me.

  The thought made Tucker bite back a groan. A combination of lust, frustration, and heated anger. “Damn it. I’m not gay.”

  He had no idea he’d uttered those words aloud until Dixon answered.

  “We’ve been through this. You’re bi, Tucker. And that’s nothing to be ashamed of.” Dixon edged closer. “Think of it this way. You’re an equal opportunity lover.” He offered up a lopsided smile that could only be called cute.

  Tucker quickly scanned the room, finding it empty except him and Dixon. Thank God. The last thing he needed was the rest of the team to pick up on what happened between him and Dixon. He’d never hear the end of it.

  Pulling up his pants, Tucker fastened the fly and cinched the belt with practiced ease. His socks and shoes followed.

  “Tucker?”

  Resisting the urge to respond, Tucker fixated on digging out his glove and cap from the locker.

  “Tucker. Damn it. Talk to me.” Dixon’s voice carried exasperation and command.

  Ready to go, Tucker turned to face Dixon once more. “Sorry. I’m late for practice.”

  Before Dixon could say anything, Tucker hurried out the door and into the dugout. A fresh breeze blew across his face, easing the tension a hair.

  I can’t avoid him forever.

  He didn’t need to. Just long enough to figure out what the hell went wrong and how to get back on track with the ladies. Or until Dixon got the right message. Whichever came first.

  With the promising thought, he jogged onto the diamond.

  A small gathering met him.

  “Hey, Tucker. Don’t worry. You’ll regain that starting spot in no time.” Ram clapped him on the shoulder.

  “Yep. We’ll help. Whatever it takes to get you back on track, sign us up,” Graham added.

  “Always up for more practice. You know that,” Mack said.

  “I’ll help too,” Dixon retorted as he approached the group.

  Tucker flicked his glance to Dixon briefly before returning to the others. Of course, they would know by now. Tucker stared at them all, his shame growing by the second. He did appreciate their support, though.

  “Thanks, guys. I just need to work harder and get my head on straight.”

  “Yeah, you do.” Trigger slapped the end of his bat against his cleats, knocking out a few small chunks of dirt. “And fast.”

  The fact Trigger said something at all impressed Tucker. Normally, the taciturn grizzly shifter had nothing but blunt criticism. For him, this was encouragement. He soaked up the moment. Which could easily be one of the last with the Predators.

  His shoulders sagged with the depressing thought.

  “Hey, it’s a slump. That’s it. Nothing more. We all have them.” Wiley patted Tucker on the upper arm. “Been there, done that myself. Lived to tell the story too.”

  Tucker shot him an appreciative but less than happy smile. “I sure hope you’re right. The last thing I want to do is leave this team.”

  “Then let’s get to work, buddy.” Ram led the way out onto the field.

  Tucker swiveled to find Dixon watching him. He studied the gray fox shifter for a few seconds, gave a slow nod of his head in appreciation, then trotted out to his usual place on the diamond. Tucker might have been a jackass when they were alone, but he had more class than to snub Dixon in front of the guys, especially when he made his position clear. They were still friends, or so he thought. However, just because Dixon had his back didn’t mean Tucker wanted to chance getting too close. Been there, done that, and had the headache from trying to figure out what in the hell happened, to boot.

  He had to set priorities. Earn my spot back first. The other stuff can wait. Maybe forever.

  He kicked at the dirt around second base, then turned his attention to the plate. Infield practice was
about to start, and he intended to do significantly better than yesterday.

  Half an hour later, Banner pointed him to the bench while the other players rotated through different positions on the field. Tucker didn’t mind the break. Even with the comfortable temperatures, he needed a bottle of cold water to quench his thirst. After digging through the cooler, he found one, then sat down at one end of the bench.

  Ram plopped down beside him, craning his head this way and that as if trying to see around the walls of the dugout.

  The unusual behavior piqued Tucker’s curiosity. “What are you doing?”

  “Watching for Wiley’s grandmother. She showed up to watch practice today.” Ram took a long drink from his water, then stood up, cussed, and immediately sat back down. “Yep. She’s headed this way.”

  “And that’s bad why?” Tucker couldn’t imagine why a little old lady would have Ram so antsy.

  “Because every time she gets within arm’s reach, she has to pinch my ass. Makes me feel like a side of beef.”

  Tucker chuckled. “Rump roast, huh?”

  Ram flipped him off.

  Sure enough a silver-haired lady trotted down the steps and into the dugout. Her hot pink shorts, top, and matching sandals blinded Tucker for a moment. When he could see again, he couldn’t quite get his gaze above her ample bosom. Holy shit. This is Wiley’s grandmother?

  “Oh, there you are, Ram.” She smiled wide, ambled over, and patted him on the head. “Stand up so I can get a good look at you.”

  Ram rolled his eyes but did as ordered.

  Tucker bit back a giggle as the lady stared at him like a woman deprived of dessert seeing one of those chocolate Easter bunnies in the store.

  “Yep. Still as nicely put together as always. That’s good. Can’t have you getting all lumpy if you’re going to keep up with my grandson.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Ram sat back down.

  Her attention turned to Tucker. “Who do we have here?”

  “Tucker. Tucker Wilde.” He held out his hand to her.

  “Elaine.” She took it, tugged him hard into a standing position, then made a circle around him. “Nice. Very nice.”

  Too stunned by Elaine’s strength, it took a second for Tucker to realize what she was doing.

  Tucker felt the less than gentle pinch on his posterior and immediately sidestepped. “Whoa.”

  She grinned wickedly up at him. “You’ll do.”

  Her meaning sunk in. And promptly scared the crap out of him too. Tucker held up his hand. “No, ma’am. You see. I’m not available.” He kicked his pokey mind into gear coming up with excuses. Come on. Before she drags me back into the locker room and commences a dental exam… with her tongue.

  “What’s the matter? You don’t like mature ladies?”

  Well, now that you mention it…. He bit his lip and frantically debated how to answer. Saggy boobs aren’t my thing. Great in theory, but hers stand high and proud, just like a flag on a windy day. They probably jiggle just as much too.

  Argh! Come on. Give me something. Anything.

  He struggled through being clueless for a few seconds, then blurted out the first thing that popped into his head. “I’m gay.”

  All the nearby players snapped their heads around to stare at him in open shock. Ram blinked, then smirked. “Since when?”

  “Since… ummm….”

  “Oh, hell, no. You’re not gay. Not with that nearly endless line of women coming and going from your hotel room on road trips,” Shorty said.

  Tucker cut a glare at Shorty. He shut up fast.

  Elaine stared at Tucker intently, like she was sizing him up for a pair of handcuffs and some funky leather outfit.

  He swallowed. “I’m reformed. Yep. Just a couple of days now, but I’m definitely gay.”

  Ram snickered but covered it with a cough.

  “That’s too bad, dear.” Elaine turned around and eyed the other men in the dugout.

  A mass exodus followed.

  “Well, shoot.” She marched up the stairs and strode along the wall behind home plate.

  Ram blew out a long sigh of relief. “She’s zany but quite entertaining.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.” Tucker felt a little violated by the old lady fondling his rear.

  “So, what’s this about you turning gay?”

  Tucker groaned. “I’m not gay.”

  “No shit, Sherlock. But, that subtle scent you’re carrying of Dixon begs the question of bi.” Ram twisted in order to study Tucker.

  Well, hell. “I’m straight.” The words came out weak even to him.

  “Uh-huh. Been there, buddy. I played with the ladies too. Until Wiley.”

  Belatedly, Tucker recalled that Ram’s gate had swung both directions until he mated. “But you knew you were bi.”

  “Yeah.”

  For a long time, Tucker said nothing else. He had a dozen questions but couldn’t bring himself to ask a single one. Not the right time or the right place. Besides, Wiley’s grandmother had cornered Banner. The scene deserved his undivided attention.

  The two spoke in low tones, until Elaine reached out and cupped Banner’s bottom. He scowled and promptly removed her hand from his body.

  “Guess he’s off her list too.”

  Tucker almost felt sorry for the obviously horny lady. But not enough to volunteer himself to make her day. “Poor Elaine.”

  Ram snorted. “Nothing poor about her. She’ll find a guy soon enough. You should see her at the pack parties. Popular doesn’t begin to describe it.”

  Wiley hurried over. “Tell me again why you gifted her with a VIP field pass.”

  Ram grinned wide. “Because she wanted to watch her favorite grandson play ball and meet his friends.”

  “Uh-huh. You’re trying to drive me to drinking, aren’t you, mate?”

  “Drinking? No. I have other ideas for stress release.” Ram waggled his eyebrows.

  Wiley rolled his eyes. “How did I know you were horny?”

  “I don’t know. How?” Ram fed the question right back at him.

  Wiley shook his head and trotted over to corral his grandmother.

  Tucker watched the interaction with interest.

  Ram turned back to him, still smiling. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”

  “With Wiley’s grandmother or being mated?” He arched an eyebrow.

  Ram laughed. “Your pick.”

  Like I don’t have enough complications in my life already.

  Maybe it’s high time I find a pretty lady and get laid.

  The thought held merit. Bunches of it. He latched onto the idea and vowed to pursue the plan as soon as they arrived at their hotel later today.

  DIXON SHUT his hotel door and ambled down the hall. Thankfully, dinner awaited in the cafeteria downstairs. His stomach had been growling almost since the moment they arrived in Florida. The complimentary orange juice didn’t do much for him besides prompt his belly to remind his mind that the light lunch had long since worn off.

  A giggle and the click of a door caught his attention. He turned toward the sound, found a woman in a snug, very short dress step out of a door, her high heels in hand. Her mussed hair told the story as did the male arm that reached out far enough to pat her rear. She squealed and waved her finger at him. “Such a bad boy. Just the kind that I like.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I can stay and wait for you….”

  “No. I’ve got team stuff to do. Like I told you before, I’m not looking for more than just a good time.”

  Dixon froze. He recognized that voice. Tucker. There was no doubt about it. Especially when Tucker stepped over the threshold enough for Dixon to easily make out his features. With nothing more than a pair of boxers on, Tucker made quite a lickable vision. Except for one thing—he’d obviously just bedded the girl.

  Anger and regret flashed through Dixon. His inner fox snapped in agreement.

  We’ve been here all of two hours and
he’s already found a woman and gotten laid.

  He hated the fact that Tucker had snagged one of the groupies and invited her to his bed. Normally, the guys waited until after dinner to seek out personal entertainment for the night. Tucker, bucking tradition, started early. Whether to reaffirm his straightness in his mind or to show Dixon which side of the fence he firmly stood on, Dixon couldn’t say. He just knew that seeing this spectacle hurt.

  As he watched, the woman dug out a piece of paper from her tiny purse slung over her shoulder, and handed it to him. “Call me.” She smiled, turned, and sashayed down the hall, swinging her hips in open invitation to any male around. Or so it seemed to Dixon who disliked the lady on sight.

  I’m such a petty idiot.

  He blew out a breath and forced his feet to start moving again. As much as he wanted to storm the room and declare Tucker his and only his, he knew that would be like adding dynamite to an already raging inferno. The resulting explosion would certainly be dangerous and counterproductive.

  What did I expect? Undying love from Tucker?

  The well-deserved chastisement brought reality into clear focus. He’d enjoyed one magical night. Since then, Tucker avoided him like the plague and obviously found someone else to warm his bed and provide tension relief. At least this one was a quickie and seemingly a onetime thing if he overheard correctly. That cooled his irritation only marginally.

  Frustrated with himself, Tucker, and pretty much the whole world, Dixon punched the elevator button extra hard. He’d rather hit something else, but the decided lack of something or someone nixed that impulse. For now.

  Unable to wipe the scene from his mind, Dixon took the elevator down to the ground floor and followed his nose to the cafeteria. He found Trigger and Graham occupying one table in the corner. The way they stared at one another, as if each one completed the other, made him even more jealous and upset with Tucker. I want what they have. With Tucker. The fact that it appeared highly unlikely soured his mood.

  After finding an empty table across the room from his teammates, Dixon sat down. A waitress immediately brought over a glass of water and a menu. He looked it over quickly and ordered. She hurried off, leaving him happily alone.