Page 53 of Force At Third

“You’re a gorgeous woman, no doubt a heartbreaker. And here we are, surrounded by men and women I think you may be related to.”

“You afraid I’d tell them you lack stamina?” She winks.

“I’m afraid you’d put me to shame, and shame is not a place I like to be put.” I give her a smile.

“See you around, player.”

“Good luck tonight, Miss Steel Adjacent.”

“What the fuck? You literally just turned down couture cu?—”

“Not gonna ask who the fuck you’re talking about, Tereira, but I will advise you shut it the fuck down,” Amias Steel hisses from behind us.

“Fuck, man, sorry.” AJ holds his hand to his heart.

“Respect, man.” Amias glares at him.

AJ starts to open his mouth, probably to explain himself, and I hit my knee against his. “Nope. Just shut it down.”

“But—”

“Nope.”

“Fuck,” he grumbles.

I glance back to see who else may have heard him, and I see Gwendolyn York roll her eyes and walk away.

Well, shit, I think, knowing damn well she heard at least part of the interaction between Dromida O’Donnell and myself.

And you know, I’m not sure I want to correct her assumption if she has one. Fate may do me a solid and let her believe this is the part of our story where the third-act breakup occurs. This would send her off to frolic in a forest full of cherry blossom trees, pondering the what-ifs before tripping over a baseball and having that lightbulb moment.

Gwendolyn’s a leftie, so I don’t get to watch that ass drop from this angle. Even when it was on a bigger field, I always tried to sit where I could see her pretty face as she got in her stance. I was always in awe of how relaxed and graceful she looked.

She takes her place at the plate and plants her feet firmly in the dirt. She holds the bat with a relaxed yet firm grip. Not a damn thing has changed. Her stance is balanced, knees slightly bent, shoulders squared off to the pitcher. And then, a nod to the pitcher, and she locks in. Only when he’s winding up do her muscles tense in anticipation. Then, in one fluid motion, she swings.

The bat cracks against the ball and sails to leftfield, just behind where Brandon anticipated it was going, and it drops to the ground.

In a blink, she’s overrunning first, and her teammates are all cheering her name. A smile plays on her lips until she sees me clapping. Then she rolls her eyes.

Fawna, the owner of O’Donnell’s Pub, Abe’s daughter, and yep, Dromida’s sister, is up next. She hits a grounder, which is scooped up by X. He hesitates but tosses it to Justice, who reluctantly tosses it short, and Fawna is safe.

Next up, another dark-skinned beauty. They’re cheering her name—Nikki. Abe pitches it in nice and easy, and she taps it right into Abe’s glove.

“Hit me home, Shaw!” Gwen yells as CeCe steps to the plate.

Abe’s pitch to her is beautiful, yet she doesn’t swing.

“CeCe, that was a gift!” he calls to her.

“You might not want to do that again, Mr.—”

“It’s Abe, kid,” he cuts her off.

“Strike one,” Amias mumbles.

She smirks, steps back, and does all that again.

He pitches a little outside, but she steps into it and nails it.

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