Page 93 of Wild Pitch
This is when she cuts a blatant look at me.
Fortunately, I have an alibi. I point at the logo of my sweatshirt. “I’m just his trainer.”
She lifts her nose a little and faces him again. “Or I could give you my phone for whenever you’re bored?”
Well, she’s definitely keeping it real, all right. As much as her interest makes my gut twist, I admire her cojones. I wish I could take pointers from her on how to be confident in front of men, but I suspect a lot of it comes from her genes granting her conventional attractiveness.
“Uh, sure.” He palms his pocket and I watch, frozen, as he keys in the digits she dictates along with her name. Kiera spelled with i-e.
I use every ounce of self restraint in my arsenal to sit very still, show absolutely no reaction, as she jogs off in a way that makes her hips swing masterfully, and as Cade returns to rejoin me at my park bench.
But then the little shit pulls up his phone, goes to his contact list, and deletes Kiera of the Great Genes off his contact list. Then he pockets his phone again and picks up the trail mix baggy once more.
The anger swirling in my gut ebbs away and my logical brain kicks in. He probably didn’t want to cause some drama rejecting a fan romantically, especially now that everybody’s a social media keyboard warrior. But also, it’s not like he has a girlfriend to claim a stake on him either, and he’s not a liar.
“You could’ve lied and said you’re taken,” I blurt out because maybe I’m not as good a person as he is.
“I could have.” He tilts his head back to pour some nuts into his open mouth.
“Why didn’t you?” I frown.
“Because I’m not actually taken yet. Can I finish this?”
“Go for it, you goof.” I marinate his words, especially theyet. Like he does want to er, eventually become taken.
Could I? Could I be the one to snatch him off the market?
Sliding his feet back into his sneakers, he stands up again and says, “‘Kay, I’ve seen that you’re alive and well, so I’m gonna go before Kiera comes back around to ask why I haven’t called her yet.”
I roll my eyes in an exaggerated way. “Go, you stud.”
“Thanks for the compliment.” He smirks and reaches over to flick the bill of my cab.
“Hey!” My protests go ignored and he walks away with my trail mix, leaving me with a crush that threatens to burst at the seams.
CHAPTER 30
CADE
I’ve been trying my best during most of this damn flight to keep my eyes on the cards, and not on Hope.
However, it’s not my fault that I keep losing or that she stands just farther up the aisle, chatting up with Larry Socci without realizing just how freaking hot she is and how much attention she’s getting from my teammates. They respect her enough that they’ll never do or say anything untoward—or rather, they know she’d chop off their limbs—but clearly they still have eyes.
Yeah, I know I’m being a hypocrite. I too am transfixed by the slope of her lower back turning into a spectacularly round butt that would fit perfectly in my hands. And on my lap.
But—and this is the big difference—I’m at least trying not to stare. Miller two rows above me is fully jaw slacked, his face red because of who knows what he’s thinking. Actually, I do know—I’m thinking it too—and it makes me want to commit teammatecide.
“Dude, it’s your turn.”
I make a gargantuan effort to turn away from Miller’s slobbering face. Lucky motions at the Uno card on top of the pile and I check my deck looking for ones or yellows.
My traitorous eyes peek from above the fan of cards in my hands, right in time for Hope to run her fingers down her long hair. Most of it falls behind her but a strand escapes to caress her cheek, and I can’t believe I wish I could be her hair right now.
Lucky clears his throat.
I throw my last yellow card at the pile. Logan Kim tosses a red one with the same number and mutters, “You’re being too obvious, you knucklehead.”
“Huh?”
