Page 14 of Wild Catch
Both Logan and Cade glance at me.
“Did you let her get hit?” Cade whispers at the catcher.
“Of course not,” Logan grouches.
“Oh. How’s your hand by the way?”
“Fine.”
I stop laughing abruptly and gasp. “You didn’t get hurt, did you?”
But Logan Kim doesn’t respond, because that’s when Lucky Rivera finally reaches us and he’s not even winded by the wild sprint. “Rose, please tell me you’re okay and that these two are carting you off out of an abundance of caution and not because I really hurt you or?—”
“I’m okay, Lucky.” I offer a watery smile. “I should’ve been paying more attention.”
Logan truly lacks any filter, because he says to Lucky, “Wait until I drop her off at the clubhouse, then I’m coming for your ass.”
“No murder on my behalf, please,” I say, which unfortunately makes the catcher frown down at me, and I notice how his lips curve downward when he does so. They’re too full to be considered cute, and yet that’s how the gesture lands.
“Fine,” he agrees.
We’re now stepping down into the dugout toward the clubhouse tunnel and Cade asks, “Which hand did you use?”
“What?” Lucky asks. “I bat right but what does that?—”
“Not you.” Cade jerks his head toward Logan. “Him. Did you catch with your throwing or your catching hand?”
“I’m fine,” Logan repeats in a deadpan.
I become aware of the brush of his chest pads against my elbow, the overwhelming heat radiating off him as he navigates us into the tunnel. It almost makes me feel cold when he finally releases me to take a seat at a plush leather chair in the clubhouse.
Finally, he brings up both hands for Cade’s inspection, palms facing up and opening and closing his fingers. “See? Fine.”
I think Cade knew which hand Logan used for the catch all along, because he latches onto Logan’s right hand and presses his thumb into the palm hard enough that Logan frowns. “Throwing hand, then? Interesting.”
Logan tries to snatch his hand free but it’s not like Cade’s a weakling.
“Hey, Lucky. Wanna know how you can fix the snafu you created?” he asks his friend.
Lucky salutes like a soldier. “How?”
“Find my girl, the love of my life, and ask her to ice this man’s hand, the bane of my existence.”
At last, Logan tugs himself free. “I don’t need icing, especially not before a game.”
“Hmm, maybe I should tell Beau that you might’ve hurt your hand instead?” Cade rubs his chin in an exaggerated pensive way.
Logan balls up said hand’s fist. “Or how about I show you how healthy my hand is?”
“If I may…” I raise one of my own shaky hands. Of course, Logan notices right away so I lower the appendage and press it between my thigh and the seat. “I’m with Cade. You need to get your hand looked at.”
“I’m—”
“Fine, yes,” I finish for him. “You keep saying that. But Lucky and I would feel too guilty if it turns out that you’re not okay, especially if it becomes obvious in the middle of the game.” I lean forward and offer my best puppy eyes to none other than Logan Kim. “Please.”
Both Lucky and Cade turn to the stoic man.
Logan’s eye twitches and I’m almost sure that he’s going to tell me to screw off, until finally he breaks. “Starr, let’s go find your woman.”
