2
Jason
There were five runs on the board, and three of them were thanks to me. There weren’t scouts in the stands tonight, but the damned Meadowlarks knew I was a great player. They had my stats. What the hell else did they need? Why hadn’t they called me up? It was such bullshit.
And here I was again, up to bat with two runners on the plate. I was going to have to bring them in. I glanced across the field, checked my six to make sure I knew exactly where the catcher and umpire were. Kramer was dancing off second like he always did. Juarez was stepping off first as I stepped into the batter box.
The pitcher was my next focus. I narrowed my eyes until all I could see was the opposition standing on his little hill with chalky hands and the object of my desire—the baseball. The pitcher wound up, his leg in the air, his warmed-up arm pulled back, the ball placed perfectly in his hands. Then the release. The ball whirled toward me somewhere between eighty and ninety miles an hour. This guy liked to throw changeups and curveballs.
This one was going to drop… I could feel it my gut.
My arm twitched, ready to swing. But not yet. Not quite yet. Every millisecond stretched into an eternity until the ball fell into place.
Then I released.
My arms swung, and the crack of the ball against the bat reverberated through my hands and arms. I was already on the move as the ball soared up, up, and away. I charged toward first base, already empty as Juarez and Kramer took off like rockets. No one on the team ran faster than Juarez. I hit first and rounded the base, headed for second.
The crowd went wild as the ball bounced off the back wall. I could hear the second baseman yelling for it, but I was already headed to third. Every nerve in my body tingled with excitement as the fans chanted my name.
I met the gaze of our third base coach. He gave me the signal to stop. That meant the ball was in play and probably headed right for the third baseman's glove.
For a brief but fleeting moment, I considered stopping. My coach gave me direct orders, I should’ve listened—what I was supposed to do—but I knew my body, and I knew this team. I could make it to home, and this game would be over in the seventh inning. We’d play through the top of the ninth, but it would be over once I hit home plate.
Instead of sliding into third, I hit third securely under my leading foot and kept running. I beat the ball to the glove. I heard the clap of the ball hitting leather a moment later somewhere behind me. I gave it everything I had to get to that plate. The ball headed right for the catcher, who was ready for it.
Now the ball was my enemy, not my desire. It was the plate I was after. I pushed off, my hands going out like Superman. I hit the dirt hard, the ground scraping up my torso, and slid into home.
“Safe!” the umpire yelled.
I grinned and rolled over as I tried to take in a deep breath. I’d knocked the wind out of myself a little. As soon as I recovered, I pushed myself to my feet, not even caring that I carried half the baseball field on my uniform. I couldn’t stop grinning. We had two outs left before the inning was over, and I’d just brought in three runs. I felt like a million bucks. Maybe I should’ve stayed on third. But I didn’t care. I knew better than the coaches… and I was never wrong.
Juarez glared at me as I made my way into the dugout.
“Got a problem?”
His eyes followed me, and he turned as I walked behind him.
“What the fuck was that, Calaveras?”
“What? Three runs? You’re welcome.”
He rolled his eyes.
I sat down on the bench. “Why are your panties in a twist? Kramer seems happy about the winning score.”
Kramer was at the other end of the bench, bullshitting with a couple of the other guys. He probably didn’t give a shit, and I was sick of Juarez’s attitude problem.
The game ended in a shutout.
I was flying high. I went into the locker room, expecting the coach would call me into his office at any moment to tell me the Meadowlarks finally got their heads out of their asses and wanted me to pack up and ship out to Omaha because they don’t know how they’d gotten along without me.
The shower came and went, and Coach Walt didn’t come out until I was getting ready to head out. The head coach’s face beat red as he rounded the end of the locker row, arms crossed over his chest.
“Calaveras, what the fuck do you think you’re doing? Do you think I put coaches out by the bases for the hell of it?” Coach Walt’s voice was sharp.
Fuck. Maybe I’d overestimated his happiness for the win. “No, sir.” It was the only correct answer when you were getting yelled at by the coach.
“Then what the fuck were you doing out there?!” he snapped.
I didn’t have an answer he would like, so I kept my mouth shut.
“Regardless of what you think, you don’t know better than your coaches, and you sure as shit don’t know better than me. I’m this close—” he held up his thumb and pointer finger close enough together that they were almost touching “—to benching you. One more play like that and you won’t see the field until next season. Going to be a lot harder to play for the Meadowlarks if you’re not playing at all, Calaveras.”
I clenched my teeth together hard, trying to keep my anger in check. The coach was an idiot if he thought the Coyotes would be competitive without me.
“Are you listening to me, Calaveras?”
“Yes, sir,” I said automatically.
“Get your shit together. I’m not fucking around. You’re an idiot if you think the Meadowlarks will take you if they think you’re not a team player.” The coach stomped away.
I wanted to yell at the coach and tell him he was nothing but second string. Who the fuck did he think he was telling me anything about baseball? I knew the game inside and out. I knew my body, and I was a great player. I was fucking team captain.
Juarez sat down next to me. “Listen to the coach, man. You’re not going to get anywhere acting like an asshole.”
“What is this? You trying to be my buddy?”
“I don’t want to be your friend,” Juarez sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re an asshole. I guess I don’t want to offer any sage advice either.” He bounced up. “Kramer, you ready to go?”
The locker room emptied, leaving me alone to fume in frustration. I slammed my locker shut and charged out of the locker room in only my basketball shorts and sneakers.
I ran. I ran until my lungs burned, and my legs ached. I needed water. I cooled down, and then headed back into the locker room. It was quiet.
My thoughts were finally calming down. Kramer had mentioned all the guys who didn’t have wives and girlfriends were heading over to a bar called Weather the Storm Bar and Grille. Maybe I would go and blow off some steam.
I stripped, grabbed a towel, and headed to the showers. The hot water beat over my stiff body. Once I’d gotten rid of the sweat and stench, I turned the water cold, wanting to bring down my core temperature. The summer was already harsh, and we were just getting started.
Clean, cool, and feeling less pissed off, I grabbed my towel, headed back to the bench, and got dressed. By the time I got to my car, I’d changed my attitude.
Twenty minutes later, I pulled into the bar’s parking lot. It was still early, but I needed something to take the edge off. Maybe I could find a woman to distract myself for the evening. Heading inside, I spotted my teammates filling up half the backroom. The bartender was a hot chick who knew how to use her assets to get men to behave and tip well. I moved to the bar and waited for her to ask for my order.
“Hey, honey, what can I get you?”
“A couple of pitchers of beer for the guys back there.”
Her gaze flickered to the Coyotes, then back to me. “You’re Jason Calaveras,” she said.
I smiled politely. “I am. And who are you?”
“Margot Weathers.”
“Like Weather the Storm?”
“Ju
st like, in fact.” She grabbed a couple of pitchers and started filling them up. “You guys had a good game today.”
“Thanks. It’s a good team.”
“One of the best we’ve had in years,” she replied. “The Meadowlarks will no doubt swoop down and ruin that any minute.”
“Well, it is their farm,” I said.
I slapped money down on the bar as she set the pitchers down in front of me.
“I know you guys always want to be called up to the Majors, and I can’t blame you. But it’s been fun to watch good baseball from the cheap seats in town.” She grabbed a shot glass and filled it with Jameson. “This one’s on me.”
I tipped the drink to her and knocked it back. “Thank you, Margot. It was a pleasure meeting you.”
“You too.” She went to the next customer.
I grabbed the pitchers off the bar and headed back to my teammates.
Kramer stood as I approached and reached for one of the pitchers. “Good man!”
The rest of the team didn’t look so happy to see me.
I sat down and pushed my chair off the front two legs as the conversation continued around me. My head was still in the game this afternoon and the way the coach yelled at me. I didn’t know how else to prove I was exceptional, that I was worth moving up to the Majors. I wasn’t going to be like some of these other guys who got up there and choked. I was the real thing. I needed to be the real thing. I couldn’t go back to the slums of my life growing up. I wouldn’t do it. Baseball was going to be my salvation, then I was going to make it my business after my body decided I couldn’t be a full-time athlete anymore.
“What’s your deal?” I glanced over to find Juarez leaning toward me.
There was an edge to his voice that told me he wasn’t going to point at some hot woman in the bar. “What do you mean?” Here we go again. I should’ve gone home and drank myself unconscious.
He cocked an eyebrow. “Why are you constantly looking for an ass chewing?”
I let the chair drop to the floor and twisted on it to face him directly. I leaned forward and put my elbows on the table. “The game was over after I slid home.”
“You were only safe because the third basemen threw too high. The catcher had to step off base.”
“So? I still made it. The game was a shutout. What is your problem?”
Juarez jabbed his finger in the air at me. “You are, man. You’re not the only guy on the team.”
“I’m aware.” What was up everyone’s butt today? I was a team player, but I also had to do something to shine so the stupid Meadowlarks would come get me, or so I would get traded to another farm or team.
“Really? Because all you’ve done is take care of yourself.”
The conversation around us had quieted down. Great, now we had an audience.
“Is this you? Or is it the whole team?”
He glanced around the table. A couple of the younger guys looked away like they wanted nothing to do with the conversation. A couple of the older guys were wearing scowls. “Out with it.”
Kramer slammed his glass down and leaned forward.
“You’re an attention whore, and we’re tired of it. All of us want to get to the Majors. You’re not the best player on the team and certainly not in baseball, and we’d all appreciate it if you would lay off. You’re a decent guy, J, but we’re tired of your shit. Play the game, listen to the coaches, and lay off.”
“Yeah, you got it.” Shit. Clearly, I’d been a dick. I picked up my beer and downed it. “I’m going to get another round.”
My pity party started at the bar. I decided to hang out and have a pint by myself. I didn’t care what they thought, but I was starting to wonder if I wasn’t a team player. I’d put down players in the past that I didn’t think were good team players. One person couldn’t be the team, no matter what the fans thought, unless you were Bugs Bunny, and here I was being that jerk because all I could see was getting to the Majors. Fuck. I hated being a dick.
Maybe I was in more danger of being benched than I thought. What the fuck was I going to do about it now?
A loud group of women walked in, cheering and “whooing” as they bustled in. The ringleader of the bunch was wearing a crown with a veil, and suckers safety-pinned to her black dress with a sign that said “Suck for a Buck”. She was clearly already several drinks in. Her entourage consisted of a bunch of women nearly as hammered as the bride-to-be.
A bachelorette party.
I glanced back at the team, and sure enough, they were already eyeing the new meat.
The women settled between the pool tables and the team, the emptiest place where all of them could fit without splitting up. One of the women quickly separated from the crowd, and the dark cloud lifted from my head with a new ray of sunshine headed right for me.
Not only was the curvy hottie heading right for me—or at least the empty spot at the bar next to me—she was also wearing a Coyotes baseball shirt. Of course, it could be her boyfriend’s, but I didn’t see a ring on the finger, and the shirt was well-worn. I was betting it was hers. She pulled up right next to me, and I focused on her profile.
“You a Coyotes fan?” I asked.
Her gaze flickered to me. When she realized I was looking right at her, her eyes widened for a fleeting moment in surprise, then she shifted to face me, her brow rose in a challenge.
“Are you asking for an ego boost?”
She was feisty… tonight was my lucky night.
“Clearly, I’m going to need it.”
“I’m a big fan.” Her full red lips curved into a smile, and I was set for the night if that’s all I got from her. “And you’re Jason Calaveras.”
“That would be me.” I grinned, not trying to play it cool at all. “What kind of fan are you?”
“You mean, do I like baseball uniforms on hot guys, or do I actually know things?” Her grin turned a little devilish as she added, “Like the fact that last year, you had five hundred and ninety at bats, hit forty-two home runs, and had an RBI of one-thirty-three?”
I blinked at her, a little slack jawed. “Wow. That was hot.”
She shook her head and looked down the bar for the bartender. I noticed the red creeping up her neck as she kept her eyes down.
But I was hooked and wanted more.
“What’s your name?”
Her big, oval brown eyes flickered to me again. “Blaze.”
“Now you’re just making shit up.”
“Hardly.” She laughed, and my gaze dropped to her ample cleavage.
“Blaze, it’s nice to meet you. Can I buy you a drink?”
“That’s really nice of you. And on any other night, I would be tempted, but it’s my best friend’s bachelorette party.” She pointed, but my eyes didn’t leave her.
“You’re still tempted though, right?” I was tempted to slide my arm around her waist and haul her right into my arms. My jeans suddenly didn’t feel so comfortable anymore as my dick pressed against the zipper. The curvy bombshell wore her blonde hair in an old-fashioned hairstyle with curls and loops. Her outfit was casual down to the red Doc Martens, but somehow, with the red boots and the scarf in her hair and her bright red lips, she looked like she was ready for the night on the town.
Her teeth tugged on the inside of her lip. “A little.”
Margot appeared. “Hey, Blaze, what can I get for you?”
She put in her giant order for drinks and pointed at the party.
Margot nodded. “I’ll have one of the servers bring them over, so you don’t have to juggle all of that.”
“Thanks, Margot.” She laid down a few twenty-dollar bills, and Margot scooped them up.
“Blaze, it was really nice to meet you. I hope that we run into each other again soon.” I held out my hand. I had to touch her.
She slid her hand into mine, and I closed my big fingers around hers.
“It was nice to meet you too. As much as I’d love to run into you again, I’m betting
you’ll be a Meadowlark any minute.”
I tugged her hand, pulling her closer to me. “Maybe you should give me your number so I can purposefully see you before I get to Omaha.”
Her lips parted, and her gaze fell to my mouth. Her stance shifted, so she was pressed against my leg. She wasn’t immune to me; that was a good sign.
“While I would love to be a notch on your bedpost, Calaveras, I don’t think you could handle me.” She slipped out of my grip and headed back toward her friends, leaving me hard and completely transfixed by her.
3
Blaze
In what world would Jason Calaveras want to go out on a date with me?
Clearly, he was several drinks in and not seeing very well. My hand and body were still tingling from his touch and proximity.
I sat down at the table. “Drinks will be here shortly.”
Allison poked me hard in the arm. “Who’s the hottie at the bar you were talking to?”
“Baseball player for the Jubilee Falls Coyotes. I was just being a fan.”
Allison jerked her chin toward the bar. “I think he’s a fan of yours. He’s watching you like you’re a plate of hot wings and a beer.”
“I think you mean that as a good thing.”
“If he was a woman looking a man, I’d say he was looking at you like a chocolate truffle dessert.” She leaned in closer, like she was going to whisper, but the booze had loosened her ability to control the volume of her voice. “Like he wants to devour you, lick up every last drop.”
I stuck my tongue out at her. There was no way. She was making it up. Or he was looking at someone else.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Besides, this night is about you tying the knot to your man for the rest of your life. Maybe you should go by and get hit on by him. Lord knows, you’re probably far more his type than I am.”
Sparks of Love Page 2