Page 8 of Striking Out In The Mountains

I’ve always been strong and sturdy. It was always useful on whatever sports field I was on, but not so great when I was trying on dresses and trying to get a boyfriend.

Doug’s face is all business as he steps back up to the plate.

I grin. “Not so cocky now, are you?”

“Just throw the ball,” he says, clearly peeved. “I got three singles already for your information.”

I laugh. “And you’re bragging about that?”

He shakes his head and frowns as he swings the bat to warm up.

I let another fastball rip. This time, he tries to swing at it, but he misses wildly and nearly falls to the dirt as he stumbles forward.

“Strike!” the umpire shouts.

Doug kicks the dirt and then circles around, huffing and puffing he’s so upset.

“Let’s get this over with,” I say as the catcher throws me the ball. “Getting struck out by a girl isn’t as bad as you think. You’ll see.”

He shoots me another bitter look as he raises his bat.

I let another one rip, faster and harder than the first two. He swings, but his bat only crosses the plate after the ball is already in the catcher’s glove.

“Strike three!” the umpire shouts.

“Do you have to yell it so loud?” Doug mutters as he shuffles back to the bench with his shoulders slumped.

“Go, Kylee!” the firefighters shout as a tiny girl walks over to the plate.

She looks pretty fit and athletic, but I doubt she’s any good because she looks terrified to face me. I feel bad, so I give her something she can hit—it is for charity after all.

The ball rolls to Emmanuel at third base. He throws it to first, but she gets there a split second earlier.

“Safe!” the umpire shouts.

I smile when I see her jumping around, looking ecstatic.

“Way to go, baby!” Aiden from the Search and Rescue says, looking so damn proud.

I’ll go easy on the girls, but the boys aren’t getting any mercy from me.

“Here we go…” I whisper as Mr. Hot Fire Chief grabs a bat and walks over to the plate.

He never takes his heated eyes off me as he digs his feet into the dirt and starts swinging the bat with those massive arms. His sexy shoulders are hypnotizing me with the way they’re rippling and moving. God, he’s hot.

I run my fingertips over the stitches in the ball as I get a full-body shiver.

“Let’s go, Grandpa!” one of the twins behind the fence says. The other twin comes over with a fresh plate of nachos and two large sodas. “Don’t have a heart attack while you’re swinging.”

He ignores them, keeping his smoldering eyes on me. This man is throwing me off a little. He’s got me all shaken up.

I pull my arm back and throw the ball down the middle. It’s not nearly as fast as my other pitches and he probably could have hit it out of the park judging by those hard, strapping arms, but he doesn’t even swing.

“Strike,” the umpire says as the catcher throws the ball back to me.

“Why didn’t you swing?” I ask him. “That was right down the middle.”

He exhales long and hard as his sexy eyes bore into me. “I don’t want to accidentally hit you.”

---