The Perfect Game: A Complete Sports Romance Series (3-Book Box Set)

by Samantha Christy

  When the Hawks are up and Caden comes up to bat, Murphy grabs my elbow. She still gets nervous every time he steps up to hit. We all yell and scream when he hits a double.

  Sawyer comes up next. He gets a few strikes on him and then hits a good dinger over the head of the second-baseman to bring Caden home. It’s so much fun to watch Sawyer on base. He steals more bases than anyone in the league and everyone knows it. It’s a game between him and the pitcher—will the pitcher throw him out or will Sawyer add another stolen base to his impeccable record? Luckily, Sawyer wins that game most of the time. In fact, we’re all on our feet cheering when the next pitch gets past the catcher and Sawyer steals home.

  Brady doesn’t get to hit because the next few guys get out and he’s pretty far down in the lineup. Hitting is not Brady’s strong suit. Whereas Caden is one of the best batters on the team, Brady is considered average. They didn’t hire him because of his hitting ability. And that’s the problem. They won’t keep him because of his hitting ability either. If Brady doesn’t prove himself on the mound, there will be no reason for him to play.

  The second inning is more of the same. Brady gets the ball over the plate well enough, but balls are being hit to the outfield and the other team scores a run. I can tell how frustrated he is when he goes back into the dugout.

  When he comes out to pitch the third inning, I decide it’s time to hold up the sign. I turn around and apologize to the fans behind me and then I hold up the large white poster board over my head. It reads: KNOCK KNOCK.

  As usual, he glances over at me on his way from the dugout. He looks confused, however, when he sees me holding the sign. He looks away and then the batter comes up to the plate. He throws a strike, but then throws four balls and walks the batter.

  I hold up the sign again, hoping he’ll look over. He does. I stare him down until he mouths the words, “Who’s there?”

  I smile and change the poster to a new one. This one says: EUROPE.

  The second batter comes up and the first pitch is a strike. Then Brady throws three balls. He’s frustrated. Caden calls time and approaches the mound. Brady looks over at me and I hold up the EUROPE sign again. I stare him down until he acquiesces.

  “Europe who?” he mouths, reluctantly.

  I switch to the last sign and hold it high over my head. It reads: NO – YOU’RE A POO.

  He reads it and then shakes his head. I can’t see his eyes under the bill of his hat, but I’d guess he’s rolling them at me right now. Brady and Caden share a few words and then Caden walks back behind the plate. Brady glances over at me and the left side of his mouth turns upward into a half smile.

  Then he throws two strikes in a row and the umpire calls the batter out.

  The third batter gets two fastballs right up the middle and then a curve ball on the inside. He never stood a chance.

  Brady tips his hat at me before walking back into the dugout.

  He doesn’t look at me much for the rest of the game, but when he does, he’s laughing. And he has the best game he’s had since he came back.

  Hours later, when he comes to my apartment after the second game, he picks me up and carries me back to my bed. He lays me down and crawls on top of me, hovering over me. “What made you do that?” he asks.

  “I guess it was a combination of things. You mentioning the signs and then Stryker told a joke earlier today.”

  “I never said anything to you? Maybe talked in my sleep?”

  “About what?” I ask.

  He laughs. “You know I hate those girls who hold up the stupid ‘I love you’ signs, but I’ve often thought I’d like it better if they held up a sign with a joke on it.”

  “Really?”

  “It’s like you read my mind, Ry. And it worked.”

  “It wasn’t the sign, Brady. It was all you. You just needed to stop thinking about pitching for a minute.”

  “I did, you know. I kept thinking about that stupid joke every time I looked at you.” He leans down to kiss me. “God, I love how much you get me. Marry me yet?”

  “Not yet,” I say, smiling.

  Chapter Forty

  Boston is a beautiful city. I love it here. I have wonderful memories of taking the train here with Mom and Dad when I was younger. So when Murphy asked me if I wanted to come for the weekend, I could hardly refuse. The Nighthawks are ending a three-day series with the Red Sox today and she thought we could all have a much-needed night out after the game.

  And I must say the thought of spending an entire night with Brady and not having to worry about Stryker walking in, makes me oh so happy.

  Stryker is staying with Lexi for the night. He loves her two girls, Beth, and her older sister, Ellie, who is deaf. And although my son just turned four, he’s already picking up some basic sign language just by being around them. I’ve learned a few words myself so I can communicate with Ellie whenever I see her.

  Murphy and I check in to the hotel, leaving our bags in the guys’ rooms, and then we head over to the stadium. “Can you please stop at a market or convenience store along the way?” I ask the cab driver.

  “Picking up supplies?” Murphy asks, laughing.

  She knows the drill. Every time I go to a game, I come prepared with signs and a joke. The good news is, I haven’t had to use them every time. But it’s kind of become our thing. And sometimes I think Brady gets upset if I don’t have one for him when he’s pitching well.

  Stryker helps me with the jokes. And just like a four-year-old, most of them are centered around human waste or bodily noises. I think he and Helen must Google knock-knock jokes when I’m at work, because for as young as he is, he’s got some good ones.

  “Nice one,” Murphy says, as she watches me make the signs. “You know, Caden and Brady are very different out there. Caden won’t ever look up at me, not after he finds me in the stands right before the game. But Brady is always looking at you.”

  “Caden looks at you when he hits a home run,” I say. “And maybe Brady looking at me is not such a good thing. Maybe that’s what’s messing up his game.”

  “I don’t think so,” she says. “He’s always looked up into the stands. He told me once that it gives him energy. While Caden might not like to think about the forty-thousand pairs of eyes watching him, for Brady, I think it drives him to succeed.”

  “God, I hope he succeeds,” I say. “I can’t imagine how heartbroken he would be if he didn’t.”

  “He will,” she says. “He is. His pitching is great. It’s his head that needs work. Caden tells me he’s an ace in practice. He says Brady pitches just like before, maybe better. But in the games, he sometimes freezes.”

  “Do you think he’s afraid of getting hit by another ball?”

  Murphy reaches up and touches the scar under her eye. “Could be. I was terrified for a long time after I was hit, even if there was a net between me and the field. I imagine it’s worse for him being down there in the direct line of fire knowing what kind of damage can be done. But he’ll get over it,” she says. “He’ll get over it because he has to.”

  Our guys take the field and look over to find us. Murphy blows Caden a kiss. We both give a thumbs-up to them. And I might say a silent prayer.

  After the first two innings, I fear I might need today’s sign. He’s frustrated. But at least when he gets up to bat, he gets a single and drives in a run. Maybe that will help his confidence.

  Halfway through the third inning, however, when he walks another batter, I know it’s time. I wait for him to look up at me and then I hold up the sign.

  KNOCK KNOCK

  I think I see the corners of his mouth turn up in a repressed smile. “Who’s there?” he mouths.

  Then he turns back to face his batter. This is the dance we do with the signs. He never gets the full joke at once. He likes to think about it; anticipate it. He says it helps him keep his head out of the game. It works. He strikes out the batter. And the third one fouls out to the right fielder.


  In fact, I don’t need to give him the next part of the joke for three more innings. Maybe he could even go the whole game without it, but let’s face it, as juvenile as it is, I know he wants to see it.

  A PILE-UP

  I see him mouth the words, “A pile-up who?” Then he shakes his head and laughs. He doesn’t even need me to hold up the sign that reads: EWWWWWW! But I do anyway.

  Murphy puts a hand on my arm. “You’re a godsend, I hope you know that.”

  “They are just stupid kid jokes, Murphy.”

  “I’m not talking about the jokes. Even as he’s working his way through his slump, he’s still happier than I’ve ever seen him. That’s all you, Rylee. I do hope you marry him one day.”

  I look down and watch them run off the field. “Yeah, I hope so too.”

  During the seventh-inning stretch, the ever-popular ‘Sweet Caroline’ song gets played and I see Caden peeking out of the dugout to mouth the words to Murphy. The song, even though it’s played only at Red Sox games, has a lot of personal meaning to them.

  In the end, the Nighthawks squeeze out a narrow win.

  “Come on,” Murphy says. “Let’s go meet the guys as they come out. We’ll be their groupies.”

  The plan was to meet them back at the hotel before our night out, but how can I argue with her when she looks so excited about it. I shove my signs into a trashcan and we make our way to the visitors’ clubhouse.

  There is a good crowd waiting where the guys will come out, probably because we’re not too far from New York and the fans can travel easily.

  I’m eager to see Brady. I know he will be in a good mood tonight. I can’t wait to spend the entire night with him.

  Murphy and I hang back, but some of the fans are getting close to the barricades they use to separate the crowd from the players. As I see Brady and a few others come out the door, a security guard grabs a woman’s arm when she tries to slip through.

  “You have to stay behind these, Miss,” he says.

  “But I’m Brady Taylor’s girlfriend,” she says.

  Murphy and I both look at the girl and then at each other. “Shit,” I say. “We should have gone back to the hotel.”

  She gives me a sympathetic look.

  “I don’t care if you’re the Queen Mother,” the security guard says. “Everyone stays behind the line.”

  “Brady!” the girl yells.

  Brady’s eyes snap over to her. He sighs and shakes his head. He doesn’t know Murphy and I are here waiting so he goes over to the woman. “Shauna,” he says, acknowledging her.

  She tries to throw her arms around him, but he pushes her off and pulls her to the side.

  I scoot closer and camouflage myself behind someone else so I can try to hear what they are saying.

  “What are you doing, Shauna? I told you on Thursday I can’t see you anymore.”

  Murphy nudges my elbow. And then Caden spots us and comes over to greet us. Murphy puts her finger to her lips to shush him before he speaks. She wants to hear Brady’s conversation as much as I do.

  “That’s nonsense,” Shauna says, putting her hand on his chest provocatively. “Come on, Brady. You know you can’t resist me.”

  Brady looks around and spots Caden, then his eyes widen when he sees me standing just a few feet away. He looks like he’s not sure what he wants to do so I shake my head at him, letting him know not to acknowledge me.

  He removes her hand from him. “It’s over Shauna.”

  “It’s not, Brady. I know where you’re staying. I’ll just come there. You’ll change your mind.”

  “If you come to my hotel, I’ll have security escort you out.”

  Shauna laughs. “No, you won’t.”

  “I will,” he says. “Please don’t push me. You knew the score. We had some fun and now we’re done. I have to go now.” He turns to the security guard. “Will you make sure nobody follows me, please?”

  Shauna pouts, and then sure enough as he walks away in the other direction, the guard has to hold her back as she tries to go after him. “Let it go, Miss,” he says. “You don’t want to be that girl, do you? Don’t beg for it.”

  “What the fuck do you know?” she bites at him.

  “Come on,” Caden says, urging Murphy and me to follow him. “We’ll meet him at the hotel.” He pulls his phone out and texts Brady.

  “Is it always like that?” I ask him. “Do they all act like she did?”

  He shrugs. “Some of them do. He was stupid and reckless before you, Rylee. But don’t hold it against him. You know how he is now, but his past may follow him around for a while. He’s had to make good on more than one threat to have hotel security throw a girl out.”

  My jaw drops. “Oh, my God, really?”

  “Some people don’t take no for an answer,” he says. “Even though they all knew what they were getting into, you have to know some of them thought they’d be able to get more out of him. Not all women are as classy as you are, Rylee.”

  “Yeah, I’m real classy. Last fall, I was one of them.” I look back at the woman as we walk away. “That could have been me.”

  “That would never have been you,” Murphy says. “Brady came crawling back to you, not the other way around. He loves you. That’s a miracle, don’t you know that?”

  I nod. “I know. I just wish he could love Stryker.”

  Murphy locks elbows with me. “He will. Give him time.”

  When we get back to the hotel, Brady is already there signing autographs out front with a few other players. I look around and, luckily, Shauna isn’t anywhere to be seen. He smiles when he sees me, and he excuses himself to come over. “I’m sorry about what happened. I tried to let her down the first night. I didn’t want you to see that.”

  “It’s okay. Let’s just forget about it and not let her ruin our night together.”

  He takes my hand. “Do we really have to go out? Can’t we just hole up in our hotel room?”

  “You’re going out,” Sawyer says, stepping up next to us. “You have to introduce Rylee to our place, man.”

  “Your place?” I raise my eyebrows.

  “It’s a bar some of us go to whenever we come to Boston. They have live music, a mechanical bull, pool tables, even a bowling alley.”

  “A mechanical bull?” I ask warily, looking at Brady’s left arm.

  He laughs. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, our contracts prevent us from doing anything that could cause us to get injured.”

  “That didn’t keep Cole from riding it last year,” Sawyer says.

  “Cole was a stupid son-of-a-bitch,” Brady says, laughing. “Got thrown off. Landed right on his pitching arm. He thought he sprained it. Hid it from the coaches for days while icing it every chance he got. He was lucky. And you can bet he’ll never do anything that idiotic again.”

  “Pool sounds fun,” I say.

  Brady gives me a cocky smile. “Oh, you play, do you?”

  “I’ve played once or twice.”

  I don’t tell him I was an ace back in college.

  “Care to make a wager?” he asks, suggestively.

  “And, my cue to leave. See you over there,” Sawyer says, slipping away.

  “I don’t know, what did you have in mind?” I ask.

  He thinks on it for a beat. Then he smiles big. “However many balls the loser leaves on the table is how many orgasms they owe the other person.”

  I blush, looking around to make sure nobody heard. “I’m not sure that’s a penalty, Brady.”

  He pulls me close. “See, this is why I love you. We always think alike.”

  “Deal,” I say.

  He grabs my hand and pulls me behind him. “Let’s go,” he announces to the group.

  Twenty minutes later, we arrive at the massive club and are ushered into a VIP area where a private waitress stands at the ready to take care of our every need.

  A few of the other guys on the team show up. Sawyer. Cole. Spencer. But Murphy and I are the only
women. And you can believe we are getting dirty looks from half the females in the place.

  “You’ll get used to it,” Murphy says. “Just ignore them. Don’t make eye contact and you’ll never have to know how much they hate you.”

  “Why would they hate us?”

  “We are living their fantasy, Rylee.”

  I look around at the five uber-handsome players at our table. Four of whom don’t hold a candle to Brady in my opinion. “Yeah, I guess we are.”

  For an hour, we drink, talk, and bowl. Brady hasn’t even mentioned playing pool yet. I imagine he intends to get me liquored up so he has a better chance of winning. It’s fine by me. If he wins, I still win.

  My favorite song gets played by the cover band. I grab Brady’s hand. “Come on, dance with me.”

  “I need to go find a chick to dance with,” Sawyer says.

  “No! You don’t!” the rest of the table yells collectively.

  “Come on guys, I’m not that bad,” he says.

  “Except that you are,” Cole tells him. “Can you keep your dick in your pants for one night, bro?”

  “But I want to dance to Rylee’s favorite song,” he pouts.

  Murphy stands up. “I’ll dance with you.”

  Sawyer looks at Caden who gives him a nod. “She’s all yours. For the dance, anyway.”

  The four of us head to the dance floor on the other side of the club. The song is fast, but Brady pulls me to him and dances with me oh, so slowly. It’s the first time we’ve danced together. His hands find every place on me that’s not indecent – and a few that are.

  “You feel so good,” he whispers in my ear. It’s not the first time he’s said those words to me. He says them often, but only when we’re making love.

  I think that was his intention. He’s working me up into a frenzy right here on the dance floor.

  I get lost in the music. I get lost in him. I never want the song to end. I want this moment to last forever.

  Someone taps my shoulder, pulling me from the trance he’s put me in.

  “Can I cut in?” a woman asks.