Page 12 of Wild Pitch

“She’s pretty,” Ace says as we sit on the bench during the bottom of the fifth inning. We’re leading the San Antonio Vipers three runs to one, but I’ve barely been watching the game. I’m too busy focusing on Monroe as she cheers from the second row. As much as I’ve been begging to play, I’m glad they didn’t choose today to add me back into the rotation. Because the distraction of knowing that my last name and number fifty-seven is stretched across her back has made it impossible to focus on anything else.

“Fuck yeah, she is,” I say, trying to hold my smile back. “She’s funny too. And super smart.”

The rookie catcher grins. “She must be if she has the Bad Boy of Baseball all worked up. Damn, Val. You’re down bad, huh?”

My instinct is to deny, deny, deny. Come up with some asshole comment about wanting to be balls deep inside her hot body for a night. But then I remember the plan, and I’m thankful I don’t have to save face by diminishing her in that way. Here, we aren’t enemies. She’s my girlfriend and I don’t have to act like I’m not a little excited about her being here. I should probably check myself tofigure out why I’m feeling anything besides indifference toward her when all we ever do is bicker, but that can be a problem for later.

“I think I am,” I say, looking over to see her playing peek-a-boo with the baby brother of my new warm-up buddy. He kicks his feet and reaches out for her, and she waves at him because her seat isn’t close enough to touch his chubby hand.

I wonder what she’d look like pregnant.

Whoa. Slow your roll, Valentine.

I shake off the dangerous thought, tearing my eyes off her and returning them to the field just as Hawk Mason steps up to the plate. He grips the bat like he’s actually trying to squeeze the life out of it before widening his stance and preparing for the pitch. It’s a low fastball, which is the pitcher’s first mistake, and before he even connects, I know Hawk is about to add a two-run homer to his tally for the season. The bat makes a loudcrackand we watch in silence as the ball sails through the air, over the outfield, and drops into the second deck of bleachers past the wall.

He flips the bat, letting it drop to the ground as he jogs around the bases with no trace of a smile to be seen. He just acts like it’s not a big deal as the crowd goes wild and fireworks shoot into the air beyond center field. Even though he’s a grumpy motherfucker who barely speaks to anyone outside of his best friend, our second baseman, Jackson, we all line up along the dugout to jump on him when he returns. When I turn away to take my spot on the bench again, I can’t stop my eyes from returning to the dark-haired bombshell with my name across her back.

NINE

RIGGS

I pacethe floor of the living room, waiting for Monroe to be ready for tonight’s team event. We usually don’t have a lot going on during the season, but there’s a new charity in Daytona that Mr. Durst holds close to his heart, so he’s made it mandatory for all players to attend. Generally, this is something I would drag my feet to and complain the entire way, but I feel like it’s a good opportunity to show off my new persona as the chill, cool guy of the team.

I nervously run my hands through my hair, checking the clock on my phone to see how much time we have left. She went up there hours ago to start getting ready, and she’s still not done. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she hopped right back into bed with her snacks and laptop and is watching some reality dating show on her streaming app.

“C’mon, Mayhem! You’re going to make us late!” I yell up the stairs, resuming my pacing as I wait. Seconds later,I hear her heels clicking along the marble floor at the top of the staircase.

“Keep your pants on, Val,” she says flatly, prompting me to turn around with a scowl. The insult that was rolling around on my tongue disappears without a trace as I take her in, her hips swaying from side to side as she descends toward me. It’s like she’s moving in slow motion as her long, formfitting black dress drags behind her.

Her dark hair falls in large curls over one shoulder, accenting the delicious column of her neck. A high slit runs up her toned thigh, and I swear I stop breathing as I watch it peek out with every step. Her full tits are pushed up, making me want to sink my teeth into the creamy flesh of her cleavage. She’s absolutely breathtaking, and even though our relationship is fake, it’s crystal clear that I’ve outkicked my coverage by a fucking mile. I feel like I’ve swallowed an entire bag of cotton balls as she finally hits the bottom stair and stops in front of me.

Clearing my throat, I try my best to play it cool, as if I’m not thinking a million degenerate thoughts about what it would be like to tear the luxurious fabric from her body. I may be able to convince myself that I hate this woman, butfuck.My dick damn sure isn’t falling for it.

I need to get this shit under control.

“You ready?” I grunt, refusing to make eye contact with her. I know if I lock onto those blue pools, there’s a possibility that I’ll throw her over my shoulder and we won’t make it to this event. She may fight me all the way, but the joke would be on her because I’m into that shit. Especially knowing that she’d definitely want everything I’d be giving her. I don’t miss the way Monroe looks at mewhen she thinks I’m not paying attention. She can tell herself she can’t stand me all she wants. But I can smell it.

“Yeah,” she replies, and I can’t help but notice that she looks a little deflated. Is she disappointed that I didn’t compliment the way she looks? Trust me, I want to. But I also need to make sure I keep enough distance between us that we don’t end up blurring the lines of this arrangement. If I’m reading her all wrong, that would be even worse, because being nice to her would make things more awkward than they already have been since she moved in. I need to stay within the lines of our agreement because I can’t lose my job. Hopefully, after tonight, some of the heat will be taken off me, and I’ll have a little room to breathe.

I reluctantly put space between us, turning on my heel and walking toward the door as Monroe follows, her stilettos clicking against the floor as she does. I pull the door open, letting her walk out, and she keeps her eyes glued to her feet as she passes me.

Fuck. I’ve definitely upset her.

I pull the door shut behind me, waiting for the faintclickof the lock engaging before we walk side by side to the elevator. I motion for her to step in first, following her and settling toward the back of the metal box right before we’re enclosed inside, all alone. I try my best not to focus on the scent of her perfume as we lower down to the parking garage. I can’t put my finger on what she smells like, but it’s definitely a mixture of something andher.It’s the same scent I remember from the night I spent with her. The one that turned me into a feral beast that could barely control himself.

I wish I could stop those memories from flooding mymind every time I’m near her, but it’s getting harder and harder to do the more we’re in close proximity to each other. Part of me wishes I could erase it from my mind forever, but it was easily the best sex I’ve ever had, so the other part of me never wants to forget.

The ride to the event is quiet, and I notice that Monroe has made herself small in the passenger seat of my car. Her knees are angled toward the door, and her head is facing away from me as she looks out the window, watching as the city passes by. Her hands are fisted in her lap, and I have the urge to reach over and pull them apart.

When I can’t take knowing I’ve hurt her feelings any longer, I twist the knob on the radio, turning the music down.

“You look really pretty tonight,” I say softly, hoping that she can hear the sincerity in my words.

She slowly turns her head in my direction, lifting her eyes to me while she fidgets with the fabric of her dress. “Thank you,” she says as a visible blush spreads across her cheeks. The tension in her shoulders dissipates and she lets out a quiet sigh as she sinks back into the seat.

I return my eyes to the road, but my mind is swirling with thoughts about why Monroe, who is generally so hard and confident, reacted that way to my dismissal of the way she looks. It makes me want to rewind everything and tell her the truth—that I have to tear my eyes away from her sometimes so I don’t give in to the urges I’ve had since she moved here. I know I’m supposed to hate her. It’s easier that way, especially since I know she hates me right back. But that doesn’t mean I can’t see how stunning she is. I have perfect vision, and she seems to get more beautiful every time I blink.

I pull into the valet area of the event center and step out, handing my keys to the attendant before rounding the hood to open Monroe’s door. But before I even make my way to the passenger side, she’s out on her own. She rises from the seat, smoothing her floor-length dress over her thighs before walking toward the staircase that leads to the entrance of the building. I quickly swing the car door shut and run behind her until we’re side by side.

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