Page 43 of Relief Pitcher

There was a good crowd in the bleachers and clusters of folks spilling onto the grass surrounding the field in camping chairs and hanging out on blankets. It didn’t hurt that it was an unusually sunny and warm April afternoon.

I ignored the burn in my thighs as I squatted and scanned the field to decide what to signal to Ty. We were tied and closing in on the game’s time limit. Thankfully, Ty was already pitching significantly better than his first practice only days ago, so we had a chance.

We’d stayed after practice on Thursday to work together, and he found his groove quickly. Eventually, it rained us out, so we went out for beer and wings. After I got home, I texted Ty about a movie until I fell asleep. Thank god things weren’t awkward between us on the team, given how we’d met.

One thing was for sure: the pitcher and catcher having had sex before definitely fast-forwarded our rapport building on the field. Maybe if I’d slept with our pitcher last year, we would’ve won the championship. Not sure their husband would’ve liked that though.

Ty nodded and rolled his shoulders. His focused expression turned me on. Probably because I’d experienced that level of focus up close and personal when we were both naked. I’d nearly gotten wood the first time we’d practiced when he’d looked at a bat the same way he’d looked at my bat only weeks ago. If I didn’t stop thinking about Ty naked, I’d never survive the season.

Ty pulled his arm back and threw the ball. The batter swung and missed. Third strike. Two outs. One more and we’d win. Not that the first game meant a ton for the season’s outcome, but it would be nice to get a taste of vindication.

He winked at me, and my traitorous stomach swooped.

Then Coach got intoanotheryelling match with the other coach. I groaned internally. The ump had already warned them to cool it. The betting pool would probably start up before the next game of whether they would kill each other or fuck it out.

While the ump went to mediate again, the next batter strolled toward me, walking like the bat between his legs was as big as the one casually perched on his shoulder. Going by the unmistakable bulge in his pants, it might be.

“Eyes up here, handsome.”

I nearly choked on my gum. So, I’dmaybegotten a glimpse when he batted before, but it was impossible not to look. The guy had a dick big enough that it made me want to tattoo “exit only” on my ass.

When I looked back at Ty, he was watching me. He started laughing and turned around, but his shoulders visibly shook. The shit.

“I didn’t expect the opposing catcher to be so distracting.” The guy hooked his front teeth over his lip and gave me a once-over.

“Are you new to the league?” Surely, I would’ve remembered the size of that jock…strap if I’d seen it before.

“Yeah, first game. You been involved for a while?”

“Couple years.”

“Maybe we can get a drink, and you can give me the league scoop.”

The guy was hot. Tall, broad, onyx eyes. Icouldgo for it. He seemed like the perfect guy to have some fun with. I certainly had no reason not to agree, but when I glanced back at Ty and caught him laughing with our first baseperson, I knew I didn’t want a quick hookup. I’d barely accepted the idea of wanting sex or dating before I met Ty, and ever since the whirlwind of Tyler McNeill exploded into my life, it was hard to think about anything else. Anyoneelse.

Ridiculous. I’d had a great time with Ty, and it muddied my thoughts. Having platonic fun with Ty was more appealing than risking a dud hookup. I’d done enough fucking around in college with disappointing guys to last a lifetime. But I needed to get over it because Ty and I would be nothing but friends. At the end of the day, that was really what I wanted from him, but damn, it was hard not to imagine more when I couldn’t stop wondering what he wore under his joggers.

Danita would call me a chickenshit. Jonesing for a guy I couldn’t have to protect myself from taking a risk, but she and her armchair psychology could take a hike.

The umpire resumed the game before I could answer Flirty McBig Bat.

“Saved by the ump,” he said in a low, sexy voice and chuckled. A chuckle that oozed the confidence of a guy who took a lot of shots and didn’t mind missing a few because it rarely happened.

I refocused on Ty—on the game—and fired off a signal. Ty managed a strike, then a ball. The fourth pitch connected with the bat in a clear home run. Flirty McBig Bat pumped his arm as he jogged to first base. Ty hung his head for a moment but quickly shook it off.

Ty and I gravitated to each other as we lined up to shake the other teams’ hands. He slapped me on the shoulder before starting the line. Flirty McBig Bat held my hand a beat too long when he passed. After we finished the line, he circled back to me.

“Are you going out after this?” he asked.

Ty clocked the guy’s grip on my hand and arched his eyebrow. I saw right through it. It was the same attitude he’d had when he’d suggested being my wingman the other night. All confident bluster.

I stared at Ty instead of the other guy. “Yeah. I haven’t been to that bar yet.” I liked our tradition of trying out a new bar after each game and was excited to check out the new queer bar.

Before I could say anything else, our coaches called us in for a huddle.

“You going out?” I asked Ty after glancing over to where his brother and Dom sat in the bleachers.

“Yeah, I think I’ll hang out for a bit before heading home for our brewery meeting.” He held my eyes and smiled before returning his attention to Coach.

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