Quit Your Pitchin'

by Lani Lynn Vale

  “Ma’am?”

  I looked over to the man that was holding the flowers and smiled. “Yes?”

  “Are you Wrigley Field?”

  I nodded.

  “Yes,” I confirmed. “Can I help you?”

  The man’s shirt read ‘Flowers by Powers’ on the breast pocket, and I couldn’t quite figure out why my heart was racing as badly as it was.

  “No,” he paused. “I’m just here to entrust some tickets to you…this time behind the safety net.”

  My mouth fell open.

  “Really?”

  The man nodded.

  “Well,” I hesitated. “Thank you. My sister will love it.”

  And that was when I realized that I’d been standing, leaning against my doorjamb daydreaming about the man.

  I scowled.

  “More baseball tickets?” Diamond whispered hopefully.

  I sighed. There’d be no giving them back now.

  “Yeah, from Furious George.”

  Diamond’s mouth fell open in surprise. “You’re kidding, right?”

  I shook my head. “No,” I held out the tickets. “Not even a little bit.”

  Diamond snatched the tickets, then she shrieked so loud that my eardrum nearly busted. “Oh my God!”

  I grinned, then waved her off. “I gotta go. I have a speech to give in twenty-eight minutes. Are you okay to get to work?”

  Diamond snorted. “I’ve been doing this getting myself ready on my own thing for upward of eight years now, Wrigley. I’m pretty sure I can handle getting to work after you got this wonderful surprise, though. You will be taking me with you, won’t you?”

  I gave her a look that clearly said what I thought about her absurdity. “You’re more than welcome to use both of them.”

  “Or,” Diamond countered as she grabbed her keys and followed me to the door. “We could go together. I’m pretty sure that tall, sexy drink of whiskey won’t like seeing only me there.”

  I sighed and locked the door as we exited, then flipped my brother off as we passed.

  “Ever think of calling to tell us you won’t be coming home, asshole?” Diamond shoulder-checked Dodger.

  Dodger flipped her off in response.

  I sighed. “Children.”

  “He started it,” Diamond grumbled. “It was his turn to do the dishes and take out the trash. Guess who had to do that while you spent two hours in the bathroom covering up those bruises.”

  I stopped next to the car door and threw my arms around her. “I love you, little sister.”

  My little sister and best friend sighed. “Knock ‘em dead.”

  ***

  Forty minutes later, I was balls deep in my speech when I looked up and found my eyes zeroed in on a tall, bearded baseball player.

  I frowned, only stuttering with my speech slightly, and continued.

  But did my eyes ever leave that man that had somehow ended up at a conference for abuse survivors? Hell no. They stayed exactly where they were and didn’t stray off of him until my boss—also my grandmother—cleared her throat delicately.

  Right, work the room.

  Got it, Grans.

  “Are there any questions?” I carefully avoided the eyes of the man.

  Which failed miserably in the next moment when the only solitary person holding their hand up in the entire room was the one man I was trying to avoid eye contact with.

  I sighed. “Sir?”

  “Yes,” he said. “Can you tell me where the funds go when we donate? Do you have a specific abuse shelter that is special to your heart?”

  My belly clenched. “Yes, sir, I do.” I bounced forward two slides on the large screen above my head and turned. “This is Weaver House. This shelter is near and dear to my heart. Weaver was my mother’s maiden name. My mother passed from domestic violence in two thousand and twelve, and since then, I’ve made it my priority mission to help every woman I can out of the very situation that claimed my mother’s life.”

  During my explanation, my gaze never wavered from the man who was making my heart pound. “Any other questions?”

  I looked around the room.

  “No?”

  Negative disagreements filled the room, and I smiled. “All right, let’s take a forty-five-minute lunch break. We’ll resume the seminar at thirteen-hundred. Lunch has been provided for you in the room down the hall from this one. Just follow the smell of those Olive Garden breadsticks.”

  I received a few chuckles from the women as they got up and left the room, but my eyes stayed on the man that was now up out of his own seat. Only, he wasn’t following his nose like all the other women. He was following his eyes—which were aimed at me.

  “What are you doing here?” I questioned, looking down at him from the higher vantage point of the stage.

  George grinned. “There was only one domestic abuse seminar in the entire city. Plus, this cause is near and dear to my heart. I felt like it was a sign from above, really.”

  “You’ve been around domestic abuse?” I asked carefully, moving closer to the stage where he was leaning against the edge.

  The man laughed. “You could say that.”

  “I can?”

  He nodded.

  “You’re not going to expound on your answer?”

  George winked. “No. But if you go to the game, I’ll think about it.”

  Then he was gone, walking out of the exhibit hall that we’d rented for the day.

  And my heart was pounding a million miles an hour.

  ***

  Four hours later, I was at a ball game in the middle of the day.

  It was eighty-five degrees out in the middle of September, and I was already dreading the next eight innings.

  “Swear to Christ,” I muttered darkly. “What’s the appeal here? Seriously, Diamond. Enlighten me.”

  Diamond looked over at me, her gaze angry. “If you can’t keep that complaint trap shut, I’ll leave.”

  “No, you won’t,” I countered. “You’ll stay right here and listen to the complete rant until the game is over.”

  Which was very true.

  Even if we were at home, she’d still not get up to pee during commercials because she was scared she’d miss something big.

  Which never happened.

  “He’s coming.”

  I tugged the shirt away from my chest and looked over to where he’d been last time I’d looked and leaned over to ask my sister a question. “What’s that circle he’s heading to?”

  “That’s the on-deck area. When players are up to bat next, they’ll stand there and warm up their swings.”

  I looked over to where Furious George was standing and felt my mouth water.

  He was wearing white pants again today, only his shirt was a bright white. His cleats had changed, too.

  His mouth shifted into a smile, and that was when I realized that I was staring at him with my mouth open.

  I closed it and looked away.

  “Are my nipples showing?” I whisper hissed.

  Diamond glanced over, smirked, and then shook her head. “Not at all.”

  Relieved, I turned my head back to the game—or more accurately to the man in the circle thing—and nearly swallowed my tongue when I found him staring at me with a smirk on his face.

  His eyes dropped down to my shirt, and then his smile grew wider.

  I looked down and realized that I didn’t see my nipples. But, it didn’t matter. With the sheer white shirt I was wearing, you could see my bra.

  Which was fucking lace.

  “Goddammit, Diamond,” I grumbled under my breath. “What the fuck? Why didn’t you tell me you could see my bra through this shirt?”

  Diamond tore her gaze away from the game to glance at my shirt then said, “Huh.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  Diamond was exceptionally unobservant. Exceptionally.

  Which made me go
ddamn stupid for even asking her for her thoughts in the first place.

  I seriously needed to invest in a vanity mirror that lit me up and showed me all my flaws, because I sure as fuck wasn’t going to trust my sister ever again.

  The man probably thought I was a slut puppy at this point!

  “You’re such a whore,” I muttered under my breath. “A freakin’ filthy whore.”

  “This whore is watching your new man bat. Shut up.”

  I sighed and turned my attention toward the man that was making my heart race every time I looked at him—which happened to be why I was avoiding doing just that.

  But, when he was up to bat, I got to check his ass out when he wasn’t paying attention to me.

  It felt like the other times I gave him my full attention, he always knew. He’d look up, and catch my eyes on him ninety-nine times out of one hundred.

  The pitcher launched the ball to George, and the ump hooted. The crowd booed.

  “What was that?” I whispered to my sister.

  “That was a ball the umpire called as a strike,” she answered, never pulling her attention away from George.

  The pitcher threw another pitch, and the umpire made a different sound this time. “Was that a good sound or a bad?”

  “That was a ball. Good for George,” she answered tonelessly.

  The next pitch happened so fast that I could barely track the ball, and George swung.

  How he’d even seen it was beyond me, but I heard the crack of the ball hitting the bat, and lost track of the ball moments later.

  “Heads up!” somebody beside me yelled.

  I automatically looked up and saw nothing but sunshine.

  I closed my eyes, ducked my head and winced.

  Moments later I felt something brush hard against my leg, causing me to curse and look down.

  The baseball bounced between my feet, and my mouth fell open.

  I looked up to find George’s eyes—eyes filled with horror—on me.

  I narrowed my eyes. “You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

  George’s lips twitched.

  Today we weren’t in the same area of the field as we’d been the last game. Today, we were behind the stupid netting. Netting that was supposed to protect me from balls!

  We were just as close to the field, only directly behind the base thing that George was currently standing at to hit.

  He’d heard everything. I knew he did.

  Otherwise, he wouldn’t have reacted to my words.

  I bent down and grabbed the stupid ball, then crossed my arms and glared.

  George winked, and I found my lips twitching in amusement.

  Then, as if I didn’t have control of my body, I blew him a kiss.

  Yes, you read that correctly. I blew him a fucking kiss.

  I was such a dumbass!

  But, before I could so much as be embarrassed by my rash move, George fucking caught the kiss and pressed it to his mouth.

  Then he turned and awaited the next pitch.

  The pitch was a ‘ball.’

  The next? The next was apparently launched straight down the middle, according to my sister.

  But, as I watched with excitement as George connected with the ball and it sailed over the fence, I was excited for an altogether different reason.

  I’d witnessed my first home run ever, and I was officially addicted to baseball.

  Or maybe it was the man.

  I didn’t know.

  But addiction was in there somewhere.

  Chapter 3

  That moment when you realize that it’s your girl yelling at the ump.

  -Why George smiles all the time.

  George

  My good luck charm was in her seat.

  In my seats, actually, but for all intents and purposes, they were now hers.

  My brother could suck a nut and buy his own goddamn seats.

  Who wasn’t in the seat beside her was her sister, and that made me curious.

  But, since the game had started and phones were banned in the dugout, I couldn’t text her to find out why she wasn’t in her seat.

  Though, she didn’t know who I was. Yet.

  I had a plan. A plan that consisted of quite a few parts.

  The first part of my plan was to get her to attend a few baseball games. Then, once she came to them—which I knew her sister would force her to do after hearing her love of the game at our first meeting—I’d take the chance and ask her out on a date.

  From there, I hoped it turned into a whole lot more.

  But, it went from just an innocent invite to a game, to taking her home later that night.

  Which I’d never planned on doing.

  But, during the game, she hadn’t been herself. She’d been almost scared.

  By the time the game ended, I’d worked up the nerve to ask her what was wrong.

  And almost wished I hadn’t.

  “Hey!” I ran up to the side wall and hung my fingers in the net. “You okay?”

  She turned sluggishly and shrugged. “I’m okay.”

  “Just okay?” I asked, concerned now.

  “Yeah,” she sighed. “I’ve had a bad day.”

  The fans started to disperse around us, but a few lingered, wanting signatures.

  Signatures that I did not want to give right then.

  But, to get them to leave, I held my hand out for the papers.

  “Real quick,” I muttered to them.

  Wrigley stepped back to the side and waited patiently while I signed the books, took a few pictures, and waved goodbye to them.

  Then, when I turned my attention back to her, she looked even more tired.

  “I’ve had a real bad fucking day,” she admitted. “But seeing you that way with your fans? That kinda makes me happy.”

  I grinned. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah,” she confirmed softly.

  “Do you want to go out to eat with me?” I blurted.

  I hadn’t intended to make such a leap yet, but something told me that I should give it a try.

  And, seconds later when she said what she said, I was glad that I had.

  “I’d love to.”

  ***

  She’d been waiting for me to get showered and dressed in a private waiting room for family, and I felt like a giddy ten-year-old as I pushed open the door looking for her.

  I found her in the corner of the room that was almost filled to the brim with people. She was sitting on a chair, legs crossed, staring at her phone.

  As I approached, I realized that she was reading.

  Every few seconds her finger would swipe across the screen, and then her lip went between her teeth.

  “Whatcha readin’?” I questioned.

  She looked up with a start, and the smile she gave me damn near took me out at the knees.

  “A romance,” she answered.

  “Which one?” I offered her my hand.

  She took it and waved her opposite hand holding her phone in my face, the words on the screen switching from landscape to portrait view.

  “Ummm,” she hesitated. “Fifty Shades of Grey.”

  I grinned. “You into that kinky stuff?”

  She blushed profusely. “No, but I don’t mind reading it.”

  The blush covered the tops of her cheeks and nose, turning it into an adorably kissable red.

  “Ready?” I questioned.

  Wrigley nodded her head, and I led her out of the family room.

  I was stopped twice, but I only waved and kept going, knowing that if I did anything stupid such as stop to chat, I’d never get out of here.

  “Wow,” Wrigley laughed as she came out of the room. “That place was packed.”

  “It always is when we’re home,” I agreed. “And, especially after a win like today’s win, they stay a lot longer than usual.”

  “That’s kind of nice that y’all ha
ve a place like that, though,” she said as she followed me down the hallway, her hand still in mine. “I like the setup of it.”

  We walked the rest of the way out of the building in silence, exchanging covert glances with each other that both of us hoped the other wouldn’t see. Yet, each time we’d steal a glance, the other would look over, too. Causing us both to be smiling like loons the moment my car came into sight.

  “So what made your day so bad?” I inquired as I held the door to my car open for her.

  Wrigley slid into the seat and lifted her legs into the Camaro, and I slammed the door and hurried around the front side.

  The moment I had the door open, she started to explain.

  “Well,” she said. “You know I work for a non-profit women’s abuse fund, correct?”

  I nodded.

  It’d taken a friend about twenty minutes to look her up and compile every single thing that he could find on her. Her job, her parents’ names. Her social security number.

  That last bit I’d shredded, not wanting to know that private of information, but the rest I’d kept.

  “Yep,” I agreed. “I had a friend look you up. You’ve worked for the non-profit for two years?”

  She nodded. “My mother started it after she divorced her husband. Her husband that wasn’t my father, but Diamond’s.”

  “Okay,” I continued, nodding in understanding.

  “Anyway.” She waved her hand in the air. “Long story short, my mother died and left the company to me, my brother, and sister. However, my grandmother is on the board and controls half of the board, meaning that she has a lot of say in how things are done around the organization.”

  I nodded again.

  “She doesn’t like the way I’m doing things, and would much rather me go back to school and allow the board to run Weaver House. However, I don’t want to go back to school. I want to find vindication for my mother, and I’m going to do that by running the business that she started and making it everything she always wanted it to be.”

  “I’m sorry about your mom, honey.”

  “My mother passed away when Diamond’s father decided that she needed to learn a lesson. He beat her to death on my twenty-fifth birthday. She’s been dead for almost four years now.”

  That just fucking sucked.