Page 7 of Playing with My Heart

Not that I could blame them. Parker was one of the nicest guys I’d ever met, as well as being extremely easy on the eyes. Not that I would ever get a chance to do anything about it since he was in a committed relationship, but still, that didn’t mean I couldn’t admire the view. And what a view it was. He was almost the same height as me with short dark hair, gorgeous gray eyes, and a toned, athletic body that begged to be touched. Such a pity that he was already taken. The things I’d have liked to do with him…

I gave my head a shake, trying to clear those thoughts from my mind. I’d never gotten involved with someone I worked with before. Never even seriously considered it—not even with cute little Justin. So, what was it about Parker that kept pulling my mind in that direction? Not that it mattered. He had a boyfriend; one he’d had since they were teenagers for God’s sake. The two of them were probably as sickeningly in love as my best friends were with each of their significant others.

I watched him unwrap his sandwich with careful precision. “Turkey and Swiss, huh?” I teased, taking an exaggerated bite of my own pastrami on rye. “You’re a classic man, Parker.”

He chuckled lightly, eyes sparkling with amusement. “I’m predictable, I guess. But it’s hard to go wrong with a classic.” His voice was soft but confident.

“Predictable isn’t all bad,” I mused, leaning back in my chair, feeling the pleasant weight of his gaze. “Means you know what you want. Speaking of wanting things—” I began.

He shifted in his seat, curiosity painting his features.“Spill it, Brooks.”

“Alright, here it goes,” I began, my heart drumming an eager beat. “We’ve got a clinic softball team—nothing too serious, just a bunch of us blowing off steam after work. We could use someone with your—let’s call it ‘athletic finesse.’”

A laugh escaped him, and it was a sound that danced down my spine, light and infectious. “Softball, huh? It’s been ages since I played ball.” He took a thoughtful sip of his water, considering the offer.

“Come on, it’ll be fun. Plus, it’s been forever since we’ve had a fresh recruit who can actually swing a bat without pulling something.” My playful grin was met with a contemplative silence that stretched between us. “At least say you’ll come to practice with me after work and check it out. No pressure at all.”

“Alright, you’ve convinced me,” he finally said, a spark of excitement igniting in his eyes. “But I’m warning you, I might be a bit rusty.”

“Rusty or not, you’ll fit right in. We’re more about the laughs than the stats anyway.”

The conversation drifted then, ebbing and flowing around topics from favorite movies to pro sports. His laughter was like a cocktail I couldn’t get enough of—potent and heady. And as we talked, I caught myself admiring the way his hair caught the light, the way his hand gestures punctuated the air with enthusiasm.

“Thanks for inviting me, Travis,” Parker said as we stood to leave, “not just to the practice but—lunch too. I like hanging out with you.” His smile held a warmth that rivaled the sun, and I found myself nodding, pleased that he seemed to enjoy my company as much I enjoyed his.

“Anytime, Parker. Really, anytime.” I tossed our trash, feeling a sense of camaraderie that extended beyond the walls of the clinic.

As we walked back to work side by side, a part of me wondered if this could be the beginning of something more than friendship. But with David in the picture and my own reluctance to tie myself down, I reminded myself to enjoy the moment—for whatever it was worth.

The shift at the clinic wrapped up with the usual flurry of activity, leaving my muscles humming with the satisfaction of a day well spent. I’d already changed my clothes, anxious to get to the field and start stretching my muscles. I tossed my duffle bag into the back seat of my car, then climbed behind the wheel,turning to grin at the man sitting in my passenger seat. “You ready to have some fun?”

Parker chuckled at my enthusiasm. “Sure, but do you mind driving me to my apartment first? I don’t think I can play softball in these clothes.” He gestured to his khaki pants and dark blue polo shirt with the clinic name along the left breast.

“Of course not. Give me your address.” I quickly put the address he gave me into my car’s GPS then waggled my eyebrows at him. “Prepare for the best playlist you’ve ever heard,” I warned as I tapped the screen to bring my music library to life.

“Is that so?” Parker chuckled, buckling his seat belt. “Challenge accepted.”

After a few minutes, we arrived at Parker and David’s apartment building. I waited in the car while he ran inside to change clothes. He bounded back down the steps a few minutes later, dressed in a pair of black athletic pants, a white t-shirt that stretched over his broad shoulders, and a ballcap on his head with Fairview Wildcats written across it in white stitching. He looked like every locker room fantasy I’d ever had, come to life and I swore under my breath. It wasn’t fair that he should look so tempting when he was so completely off limits to me.

We drove through the busy city streets, our conversation dancing from topic to topic like old friends. “Back in high school, I played catcher,” I said, tapping my fingers on the steering wheel in time with the beat. “I loved the thrill of it—the strategy, the rush. What about you?”

“Shortstop,” Parker replied, a reminiscent light in his eyes. “There’s something about that split-second decision-making, you know? Plus, I always had the dirtiest uniform by the end of the game. Wore it like a badge of honor.”

“Ah, a man after my own heart,” I quipped, shooting him a sideways glance that I hoped conveyed admiration without crossing any lines.

The field was a familiar sight as we pulled in and parked—well-trodden grass, a diamond carved into the earth, the smell of anticipation hanging in the air. “Here we are,” I announced as we got out of the car. “Welcome to the Thunderdome.”

“Looks more like a softball field to me,” Parker teased, hoisting his sports bag over his shoulder.

“Ah, but this is where legends are made,” I said with a dramatic flourish, leading the way to where my teammates were warming up. Their friendly chatter filled the space, punctuated by the occasional pop of a ball hitting a glove.

“For those of you who don’t work with us, I’d like you to meet the newest member of our squad—Parker Reyes, shortstop extraordinaire,” I introduced him with a grand gesture, laying it on thick because why the hell not?

“Hey, Parker!” came the chorus of greetings, welcoming smiles and nods coming our way.

“Shortstop extraordinaire, huh?” Logan said, clasping hands with Parker.

Parker glanced at me, amusement dancing in his eyes. “No pressure. Isn’t that what you said?”

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