Page 325 of Well Played

“I’ll see you in my dreams.”

“Aw, that’s not creepy at all.”

He laughed and bid her good night.

Kaylee looked up from the dugout bench.

“Hey there, kiddo.”

Smiling, she got up and made her way over to the fence. “Kiddo?”

He shrugged. “You call me old dude, so it made sense.”

She laughed. “You came.”

“Not yet,” he whispered.

She blushed and shook her head. “You’re in training.”

He raised a brow.

Kay hated it. Even his eyebrows were sexy.

“Kay, time to get your head in the game.”

Blushing, she waved goodbye and took her seat as the coach went through the lineup. Her eyes strayed to where Walker stood at the fence. She heard Jimmy greet him and regale him with facts and data about the team. Jimmy loved numbers and seeing their patterns. He’d become a fantastic poker player recently. She wasn’t sure who had taught him to play, but she was sure they regretted it, especially if they played for money. She could near about guarantee that Jimmy would win if he understood the game. As kids, she’d taught him to play blackjack, and he was soon beating her at every turn. She’d learned that to play with him, she needed to use several decks to have a fighting chance.

They were in the field first and Kay soon forgot about Walker, Jimmy, and anything else that wasn’t softball and the team. When she was up at bat, she heard Walker rooting for her. While it pleased her, she treated his cheers the same way she did when her parents cheered. She tuned everything out except for the game. The sound the bat made when it caught a solid connectionwas her theme song. She didn’t wait to see where the ball went. Already halfway around the bases when the coach waved her back. Kay returned to second and waited. She didn’t have to wait long. As soon as the bat cracked, she was around third and headed home with their cleanup batter right behind her.

Jimmy began shouting about her RBIs and giving everyone the latest stats. The fifth batter hit a pop fly to the first baseman. Jimmy complained loudly about her stats and what the coach had told her about those outside pitches. Kay didn’t even try to stop him. She knew it would do no good and perhaps his monotone recitation of the stats would do more to get her attention than what they’d tried. A base hit, a double and a walk followed, one out and bases loaded. Their ninth batter was up at bat. Kay screamed herself hoarse when the ball went over the fence. Jimmy was computing the stats in his head and shouting to be heard over all the cheers.

The Dirt Princesses won their first game of the tournament. It was double elimination, so they were free until the next day while the losing teams fought to stay in the tournament.

Kay introduced Walker to her teammates, who gave him shit but all in fun as they made their way to their hotel.

“Don’t you guys be partying tonight,” the coach warned. “This tournament isn’t over yet. Save your partying for tomorrow night once we have this baby in the bag.”

“We’re going to bed early, coach,” the pitcher promised.

“Not a drop of alcohol will pass these lips,” the shortstop said, batting her lashes.

Coach grumbled. “You bitches lie, but I don’t care if you’re throwing up as long as you’re sober enough to play. You can shit and puke all over the field, but you better be ready to win, because I didn’t come all this way to lose.”

Kay led Walker away from the group.

“I take it your team has played after a night of overindulgence?”

“Oh, we’re known for it,” she said with a laugh. “I don’t know how some of those girls are still alive. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind a shot of whiskey every once in a while, but I don’t mainline tequila and I definitely don’t do shots and chase it with beer.”

“Damn, those girls could give my guys a run for their money.”

“I wouldn’t try to out drink them and never bet money on it.”

They ordered drinks at the hotel bar and found a quiet corner to talk until Jimmy and Grace discovered them and monopolized the conversation.

Walker escorted her back to her room. “I don’t think we’ll ever have more than a few minutes alone,” he said as he leaned against the door.

“It doesn’t look like it. Your next trip home is the bocce tournament.”

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