Page 58 of Wild Catch
I drift away enough that he has to drag me back to his side, which happens right in time before I run into some potted flowers lining the walkway to the front door of this house. It’s one of those old money-looking homes that are actually not a decade old, probably boasting a pool and grill the size of the whole townhouse I live in—our unit plus the neighbor’s.
The second we walk into the house, we’re inundated by players greeting us like we don’t see each other basically every day.
“You came! I didn’t think you would,” Mike Brown says, patting Logan’s back.
All the catcher does is grunt at him and glance back at me. I promptly offer a smile. “It’s my fault, I’m afraid.”
“No, thank you. It’s hard to get this guy out of his lair.” Mike checks over his shoulder. “I want you to meet my wife, Amber.”
A short woman with a pretty brown hair bob appears from behind him. Unfortunately, I can tell right away that her smile is fake. “So nice to meet you. I’ve seen so much about you online.” She offers a hand adorned in many bracelets.
“I hope it’s only good things?” I give an awkward laugh when she doesn’t grab my hand in full, but only my fingers. Does she think I have germs?
But then she does the exact same thing to Hope and I relax a little. It seems like this Amber is at least equanimous in her icky treatment of other women. And I say that because she’s all gushing and praise for Cade and Logan instead.
“Let’s allow the women to get to know each other,” Mike says, palming both of his teammates’s shoulders to steer them away. “We have some cold ones at the back.”
I look up at Logan and find his attention on me. He cocks his eyebrow as if to ask if this arrangement is okay, and I nod at him. I’m a big girl. I was in the pageant circuit in my late teens and early twenties. I know a thing or two about how to sort through mean girls. The last thing I need is for him—or anyone—to fight my battles. Especially not when my roommate may need me to back her up.
And so I link arms with Hope and we walk together into the lion’s den.
CHAPTER20
LOGAN
Not to be dramatic but if holding Rose’s hand felt weird, it’s even weirder when I let go. It’s kind of like when I’ve spent the whole day wearing my mitt and I take it off at the end of the day, and my hand feels too cool and too light.
I flex my hand a few times, trying to get used to normal again.
Sometimes I’m able to engage in conversation with my teammates, or even joke around. But today hasn’t been the best day. The elevator in my building malfunctioned this morning while I was riding it. Once I was let out, I abandoned my plan of going grocery shopping and returned right home to put a cart online instead. Even though I was trapped for maybe five minutes in that metal box, it’s put me on edge since.
The original plan was that I was going to pick Rose up in my convertible Gran Cabrio Maserati, but I’ve been so frazzled that I didn’t think it’d be safe to drive. That left me with no choice but to call the clown of a pitcher and pack myself in his pickup truck.
Mistake, since I proceeded to make a fool out of myself.
Fine. Rose looks more than fine, for shit’s sake.
Sighing, I ignore the ribbing of the guys around me, and keep an eye out for Rose. She’s in the kitchen, now separated from Hope as a different group of women took the latter to the living room.
So far Rose’s body language doesn’t scream that she needs rescue. She stands by the kitchen island, chatting with O’Brian’s girlfriend. Unfortunately, I’ve met that girl before and while she’s more normal than Brown’s wife, she’s boring. A clever person like Rose will move on quickly.
“So, you and our social media girl, huh?” The host sets a paw on my shoulder, forcing my attention back to him and the group of guys around us.
“Uh, yeah.” I run a hand through my hair, which coincidentally shakes Brown’s off me. That’s a win.
“How did that happen?” Miller asks with a side eye. “Because I can’t see anyone like Rosie giving the time of the day to a grouchy cave troll like you.”
“Hear hear,” someone else says behind me.
I mumble, “It just happened.” Over Korean BBQ and a late night bike ride, but I don’t spill those beans.
“It was the power of a wild catch,” says Cade Starr, motioning for the kids to gather round. “Listen up, kids”—I scoff at that—“It’s not about rescuing the girl so you feel powerful or anything. It’s about anticipating her needs and not letting her die from a blow to the head.”
I cover my mouth with a hand because I would hate to give him the satisfaction of seeing me smile.
As ridiculous as it sounds, he’s kind of right. Yet, what makes him think he’s wise enough to advise anyone here? These guys have had WAGs way longer than him, and just because the thing between Rose and I is a farce, it doesn’t mean I’m receptive to his yapping either.
Thankfully, one of the guys intervenes—except it’s not to change the topic. “So does that mean that if anyone else had caught that ball, Rose would’ve fallen for him?”
