Page 80 of Force Play

“I started spending time here, and no one was around to keep me from doing something stupid.” I huff out an exasperated sigh, and just go for it. “It turns out I actually enjoy doing stupid things with him, so I kept doing them, and now I have a boyfriend.”

“But he’s a baseball player,” Poppy says, so loudly and shrilly that Ronnie rolls off the float. She swims over to the steps where she climbs out, shaking off and sauntering over to the grass to find a quiet spot in the sun.

“It didn’t take long once I gave him a chance and realized that’s not all he is. He lets everyone think he’s just this carefree, goofy guy, but he’s yet to let me down when I need him.”

“So all that back and forth for the last year was just foreplay?” Janet asks, sipping on her margarita.

“Maybe it was.” Even I can admit that throwing barbs back and forth was never about hating him. It was about driving away all the feelings that made me uneasy. But the bickering and banter, his sharp tongue, and the way he didn’t back down for me was always exhilarating.

“I’ve always been a big fan of foreplay,” Lilah adds, looking down at her wedding ring.

“Is that why you ignored the sexual tension with your best friend for years?” Poppy pokes.

“It certainly made for a memorable time when we got together.” She tips her head back, letting her body sink further into the water and soaking up the sun.

I hold up my drink, clinking it to hers, a silent agreement that emotional edging makes for hotter sex. Every. Single. Time.

When the team takes the field a few minutes later, we all float closer to the TV screen hanging on the outside of the covered patio and anchor ourselves with our heels on the patio’s edge. Sipping from my non-alcoholic drink I try to hide that I’m practically giddy over the prospect of watching my boyfriend play. This man made my heart do a complete one-eighty over the last month.

Brick by brick, he’s dismantled the wall around my heart that I built to protect it from who I thought he was. He might still be the silly, carefree baseball player I met last year, but he’s also reliable and thoughtful.

And sexy as hell in those pants.

“Why is Dom wearing a red thong under his pants?” Poppy asks, splashing some water at me.

“They’re two games out from making the playoffs. He’s become a little obsessive about making sure he has luck on his side.” Just another quirk I never expected to be so endearing. There’s something about the way he carries himself, so sure. I always thought it was arrogance. In truth he’s anything but arrogant. Confident, yes. Self aware, definitely. He knows his strengths and plays those up, but he’s the first to make fun of himself and admit his weaknesses. Besides, he might be the most thoughtful man I’ve ever met. You can’t be arrogant and incredibly kind, can you?

“He knows those pants are basically see through this year, right?” Mia asks snorting. “Remember when Xavier slid into home back in May and shredded his?”

“I thought he was going to give us all a peek of what kept Kristy coming back for more after all the times she’s said she was done,” Lilah adds, her chin tipped up to the sky.

“Have you ever known Dom to shy away from anything? He knows you can see his lucky thong. He just doesn’t care, especially if it helps them win.”

“No one likes a challenge more than that man,” Janet agrees, giving me a little wink.

“Did you just call me difficult?”

“If the shoe fits, lace that bitch up darling.” She holds up her cup. “Now float me another drink and a brownie.”

By the seventh inning, we are all out of the pool and nervously pacing in front of the TV. The Bandits are tied with their division rivals, the LA Diablos, and we all know how important this win is if the team wants to keep their postseason hopes alive.

It’s two scoreless innings later when the top of the Bandits lineup steps up to the plate. Hendrix starts the inning off with a blooper into right-center that drops just short of the outfielder.

Poppy grabs on to my hand, squeezing it hard. “Don’t you dare go for two,” she yells at the TV as her fiancé rounds first, skidding to a stop and diving back just in time for his fingertip to grip the edge of the base before the tag comes down.

Dean is up next; his jaw is set and his cleats dig into the dirt as he waits for his pitch. The first pitch is a fastball and he’s behind it just a hair. The pitcher tricks him with a curveball on the next pitch for a strike. Stepping out, he refocuses, before taking his spot in the batter’s box again. After fouling off a few in row, he strikes out, swinging on a slider.

Lilah stops the steady pattern she was pacing on the patio and stands in front of the TV, watching as her husband traces two letters into the dirt. A J for his late brother, followed by a D for her, just like he does every game. With intense focus, he watches the first two pitches before swinging at one he likes and sending it down the third baseline, all the way to the corner.

While the outfielder is digging it out, Hendrix and Cruz advance to third and second base.

Nerves crawl up my spine as Dom walks to the plate. His trademark smirk melts away and his muscles coil, poised to strike. I know that look well, and it has me clenching my thighs together, hoping no one notices.

He doesn’t take his time and wait or battle like his teammates. Instead, he sees something he likes on the first pitch and swings away. It pays off. The ball goes flying over the outfielder’s head and clears the fence, ending the game in impressive fashion. I don’t even realize that I’m making a spectacle of myself until I realize that every pair of eyes is now turned on me as I throw my hands in the air, cheering wildly.

“Oh, I love this.” Poppy laughs, wrapping her arm around my shoulder. “You’re a Bandits WAG now, and you’re just as crazy as the rest of us.”

Yeah, I think I am, and I don’t hate it at all.

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