Page 64 of Force Play

Have a good day, beautiful. Don’t forget the pool is yours anytime you need it.

Future Wife:

I won’t.

Me:

Okay.

Two hours later, the plane lands in Phoenix and I’m still riding the high from my text exchange with Indie when we board our bus to the stadium for our first game of the three game series. I climb into the bus and my phone buzzes with a notification from the dog cam. What I see when I open the app doubles down on that feeling.

There’s a spunky little firecracker sticking her tongue out at the camera while she limps through my house toward the pool in a pair of tiny shorts and her black swimsuit top that has me wishing I wasn’t surrounded by my teammates.

Nothing can ruin my mood as we make the short ride to the stadium from the airport to practice before our game tonight. Not even the familiar voice that calls out my name when I’m on the field taking batting practice an hour later.

“My man. It’s been ages.” My minor league teammate slaps my back as I swipe my forearm across my forehead.

“Sonny . . . hey, man. How’ve you been?”

“Prime, buddy. Loving life since I got called up. I bet you are too.” He elbows me in the side.

There’s a reason this guy stayed in the minors longer than me after college. While I’ve done my fair share of screwing around, the game has always come first. Sonny never knew when enough was enough. We lived together for a year right out of college and since then I’ve kept my distance.

“How’s your season going?” I ask, not really wanting to give up practice time to talk about his party habits.

“We should hang while you’re in town, catch up. I know all the best spots to hit up postgame.”

“Nah, I’ve got team stuff going on. But good luck tonight,” I say, stepping back to finish my batting practice.

Rude? Yes, but I don’t really care what this guy thinks of me, and I’m not interested in getting my ass chewed by Coach or Cruz for slacking off.

Exhaustion from the first two games of the series and eleven innings of baseball to lock in our win today against Phoenix has my limbs feeling like lead as I sink into my seat on the plane.

“Guys, he’s got the phone out again. My money is on porn,” Xavier says, dropping into his seat across the aisle.

There’s been a pit in my stomach that isn’t normally there when I travel. Leaving Ronnie sucked. The space between Indie and I sucked. Something is happening between us, but we’re not in a place where we’re calling each other or video chatting yet.

If it weren’t for the dog cam, the whole trip would have been a total bust. But after that first alert when Indie stopped over, I was like a kid on Christmas morning, waiting for the next time she’d pop up on my camera. And she didn’t disappoint, stopping over every day for the last three days to swim and play with Ronnie.

The guys keep catching me staring at my phone, watching the two of them cuddling on the couch or playing on the floor. All of them are jumping to their own conclusions about what I’m doing, but so far no one has figured it out and until Indie gives me some sort of indication that she’s ready to stop denying her feelings for me, I’m not telling them a thing.

They can harass me all they want, it doesn’t matter. Because each day I feel like I’m a little closer to getting everything I’ve wanted for the last year. Hell, she even sent me an unsolicited deck picture the other day. One with her and Ronnie sunning by the pool together, the black triangles of her swimsuit narrow and barely covering her. If I wasn’t already down bad for her, that would have done it. My girl, sweet and sassy all at once.

I’m so fucking screwed.

Somewhere over New Mexico, my phone died and I was too tired to dig out my charger. So, I’m caught off guard—but not even remotely disappointed—to find Indie and Ronnie napping together on my couch when I get home.

Lowering my duffle bag to the ground, I quietly toe off my shoes, not wanting to disturb them. I make it maybe four steps before one of Ronnie’s ears perks up and she turns her head, finding me. I’m sure she’s going to wake Indie when her tail thumps against the couch, but she slides out from under her arm and stretches before she sits at my feet, waiting for me to greet her, like the good girl she is.

With one last look at the woman who’s occupied every thought that wasn’t devoted to baseball for the last few weeks, I pat Ronnie on the head, making a note to give her extra treats for giving my girl the peace she deserves. “Come on,” I whisper before leading her outside.

Chapter 24

Indie

Is this couch infused with some sort of sedative? That’s the only plausible explanation for why I keep waking up here feeling more rested than I do after a full eight hours in my own bed. I refuse to believe it has anything to do with the owner of the house.

Speaking of the dopey owner, he’s going to absolutely murder me if I don’t find his dog soon. She was right here when I fell asleep. But I’ve called out for her and searched the house without luck. The backyard is empty too.

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