Page 7 of False Start

I wrinkled my nose. “Absolutely not.”

“Hey, Kit!” Gavin interrupted, his attention fixed on the notebook in his hand. “You’re up first.”

I took the excuse to escape Trent, shooting him a tight, warning smile.

“Good luck out there, Kitten.”

THREE

TRENT

Nothing solidified joininga team like a win, and, according to my newest teammates, the Foul Boules historically didn’t win often.

But, in the final inning of our first game, Kit squared up to the ball, bases loaded. She had her short black hair pulled back in a severe ponytail, a frown on her lips. I stood on third, Derek on second. If I got home, we’d tie.

“Kick it out of the park, Kitten!” I clapped encouragingly.

She shot me a murderous look, and the pitcher took advantage of the distraction, winding up and rocketing the ball down the center of home plate.

I didn’t have time to shout out a warning, but as if sensing the incoming ball, she redirected her gaze to the ground with just enough time to smack the ball into the outfield. The Upper Deckers, banking on a bunt, dashed after the ball, leaving plenty of time for Derek and me to race to home.

I jogged by the dugout, soaking in the cheers from my team and receiving a line of high fives. On the field, an Upper Decker launched the recovered ball toward third, smacking Kit in the shoulder.

Still, we won.

“Drinks at the bar?” the opposing captain yelled over.

“Hell yeah,” Derek called back.

“Hey, Texas!” Kit shouted, mud on her sleeve and her hair askew. “You’re not supposed to distract your teammates.”

“I was just cheering you on,” I said with a cocky grin.

The girl had my number. I had to give her that. Next to winning, annoying the hell out of Kit was quickly becoming my favorite part of the game.

“Hey,” a man in an “Upper Deckers” t-shirt ducked under the cover and approached me with a piece of paper in one hand and a pen in the other. Kit rolled her eyes, brushing my shoulder on her way to her bag. “Trent Vogt? From the Breakers, right?”

I shot him a smile, taking the paper and signing it. “Yeah, the one and only.”

He raked a hand through his hair. “I can’t believe you wanted to play kickball. Had we known, we would have gladly kicked someone off the team to take you in.”

I’d heard the refrain more than a few times. I laughed. “I didn’t know when I signed up that I’d need to call in favors to get on a team.”

“It’s a pretty popular sport around here. Too many people who want to play and not enough slots. Guys, especially.”

Kit snorted loud enough for me to look. She pursed her lips, tapping her foot, eyes flitting between the exit and me.

“Would you like me to sign something for you, too?” I asked, voice sickeningly sweet.

Her eyes flared. “I want you to get out of my way.”

I stepped aside. “Are you coming out for a drink?”

She paused, indents forming around the corner of her mouth before she gave me a single shake of her head. “I’m busy.”

“Too busy for one drink?” I pressed.

As much as I didn’t mind riling Kit up, I still wanted to be her friend. Or, rather, her roommate’s friend. And it seemed like they were a package deal.

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