Page 3 of Sweet Heat

He’s been gone a long time, but something about the song helps me feel his spirit surround me before each game.

If he could only see me now.

A rush of sadness makes me gulp—there’s no time for melancholy Miller to rear his head today.

A loud whistle snaps my attention toward the pitcher’s mound, where Crimson is dancing around Owen and acting like a fool. Shaking my head at their antics, I take up my spot behind the home plate and crouch down for some practice throws.

A warm breeze drifts my way, fanning my face under the catcher’s mask, and for a second, I detect the faintest whiff of cotton candy on the breeze. It draws my attention away from the moment, and Owen takes his shot to drill the ball home. The baseball whooshes, and I snap back, managing to catch it, but I fall hard on my ass in the process.

Pain shoots from my tailbone up my spine, but I shake it off, clenching my thighs and bouncing back onto my feet.

“Fuck. Sorry!” Owen shouts, taking off his cap and slapping it against his legs.

“Pay attention, Killer,” Crimson jokes, jogging over to check-in.

“You all right?” Damien, another member of Pack Moore, asks, stepping up to the plate for a few practice swings to loosen up before the game. Three out of four of their pack members are on the team—Niko, their fourth is never around, but he’s a good guy. Owen’s been my best friend since before we could walk, but the others have become my brothers over the years.

They’re constantly asking me to pack up with them.

I wish it were that easy.

“Yeah. I’m…” A prickle of awareness runs down my spine, and my heart beats faster. Scanning the stands, I search for the source of the sensation. Her presence looms, stealing my breath away. My eyes water, but I can’t blink until I spot her, my anxiety coils like a rope about to snap.

Finally, they land where they need to.My Puff.

She’s a vision; delicious curves encased in ripped jeans and a light pink shirt with our team logo splashed across the front. Curves I dream of nightly. Her long, shiny brown hair is up in a braid that hangs over her shoulder, falling just over the ripe swell of her breast. My mouth goes dry, and my eyes bulge, not wanting to stop looking for even a second.

“Miller?” Crimson asks, quirking his eyebrow. “You get a concussion from falling on your ass? Is that where your brain’s been hiding?”

Damien scoffs, hiding his laugh with a cough, then smacking his bat on home plate.

“Let’s do this. I need to loosen up my shoulder. My goal is five home runs this game.” He swaggers around like a preening peacock, looking for a laugh. The big Alpha has a colossal ego—but most of its bluster; though he’s capable of great things.

“Yeah. Okay,” I agree, squatting back down. Unable to stop my eyes from flicking back up to Posie. She’s chatting with her friends, a big smile on her face now, and I’m able to relax a fraction, though I wish she would head up to sit in the family box where she’s supposed to be. “Owen, why is Posie behind the dugout?”

He shrugs and winds up for a pitch. His hand arcs back behind him, gripping the white-and-red ball, before snapping forwardand releasing it with precision. The ball flies toward home plate, spinning in a perfect curveball.

Flexing my mitt, I prepare for impact, but the familiar crack of Damien’s bat sounds in my ear, and the ball sails out into the field.Nice.

“Another,” Damien demands, and Owen winds up again. The hair on the back of my neck stands up, causing my eyes to dart over to my obsession. Something’s wrong. I can feel it, and my Alpha instincts demand satisfaction.

Oh. Hell. No.

Rage. Pure, unfiltered fury lodges itself in my chest, and my inner Alpha loses all sense of decorum. I vaguely feel a ball hit me in the leg, but something primal has completely taken over.

Must kill.

Must maim.

Must destroy.

The field blurs. My arms bunch, hauling me over the railing, and before my mind catches up with my body, I’m in the stands.

“Miller! Sign an autograph! Can I take a selfie? Look here!”

It’s all white noise. Barely audible over the screaming in my mind. Fans swarm me, but I shove them out of the way.

Must get to her.

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