Page 7 of The Third Baseman

Intense.

“I run the press and marketing teams here, so we do have to have presence at every game – right now a couple of my guys are travelling with the boys to capture content. I’ll attend in future, but I’m using this week to get organized. The club never had a proper communications team before so I’m trying to make it all run smoothly, and the social media is all new.”

“I’m not required to go, but I’ll join on occasion if I can get away,” Beulah added.

We walked under the arch and turned left, heading along a blossom-tree lined walkway that led to the river. It was busier here, and I spotted several groups of tourists taking pictures along the outside wall of The New York Lions stadium which rose high above the Hudson, its shiny black and gold paint glinting in the sunshine.

Billboards ran along the side, plastered with a larger-than-life sized image of each player, one after the other. The more we passed, the bigger the shiver that whooshed across my skin.

“On game days, the river here is filled with boats of people all trying to catch a home run ball. When the season opened, we decided to have t-shirts made for anyone who caught a ball out there. They then have to collect it from The Lions merch store under the stadium. The shirt says ‘I caught a Lion’ and we ask them to post on social media. It was really popular on Saturday,” grinned Lowe.

I forced myself to turn away from the billboards and ignore the gnawing slowly growing in my belly as we walked past the stadium, because I knew what would be coming, “Oh! That’s what they were! When I arrived, I couldn’t figure it out. I just saw them all stationed out there, like canoe-shaped battleships.”

“Yeah, and you should have seen them fight it out. Two guys fell in,” Beulah laughed loudly. “Lowe did a great job with it. She’s been working her butt off in the offseason.”

I didn’t have a chance to respond or offer congratulations as I was knocked sideways into the two of them by a group of squealing young women not looking where they were going.

“Oh! Sorry!” one giggled. “We didn’t see you.”

“That’s okay,” I said, rubbing my ribs while Beulah glared at them.

“Actually, could one of you take our picture?” another asked, thrusting her phone at the three of us.

Beulah just stared disapprovingly, so Lowe took it from her. “Sure.”

The sea of girls parted as they posed next to the board. Immediately my throat constricted, and my stomach plunged to the bottom of the Hudson.

Jupiter.

Though not Jupiter as I knew him.

Gone was the perfect smile, the mischievous glint, the fun. Instead, those sensuous lips were schooled into a hard line.

I’d never seen him look so… menacing. Thick forearms crossed over his chest, almost covering The Lions logo embroidered on the left of his shirt. Huge biceps bulged and strained under the fabric; biceps covered in tattoos. So many tattoos you could barely see his bronzed skin.

My mouth dropped open, and I couldn’t have stopped it with a gun to my head.

He’d been wearing a hoodie when I’d seen him on Saturday, so I never imagined underneath…

On Saturday he’d been beautiful, but this version… I couldn’t look away.

I wanted to… but I couldn’t.

He was staring down the lens of the camera, eyes bluer than I’d remembered. Pools of aquamarine, like Yellowstone hot springs, but not warm and lit with amusement like they used to be.

These were cold, and a little dangerous.

The shiver returned a hundred-fold, along with thousands of knots tying themselves in my belly.

The chatter going on around me cut through my thoughts like a hunting knife through fresh prey.

“He’s so fucking hot...”

“God, I want his babies....”

“…I just want his dick.”

Someone let out a groan so lascivious I could almost see the saliva dribbling out of her mouth.

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