Page 122 of Wild Hit
“No, I got this. Time to return the favor.” Logan gets in my way, cracking his knuckles.
The coaches are already grabbing the intruder and are shouting orders all across the room. This is when security finally barges in, and I catch Beau telling them to press charges for assaulting one of the players. This is gonna get him banned for life from our facilities and from every one of our games, which is great.
I breathe hard, more out of confusion than anything. Between the guys, staff, and security, they swallow Henry Vos up and drag him out, screaming his lungs out. Regaling everyone around him with obscenities and defamations that are building my case against him with no effort on my part.
“You okay?” someone asks me.
I turn and almost jump in my skin. I’ve never seen Lucky Rivera this serious, almost like I’m talking to a completely different person.
“Yeah. I’m good.”
“You sure?” He looks down.
I do too, and this is when it clocks with me that I’m holding my side. And that it’s throbbing.
Slowly, I ease into a casual stance and say, “This won’t be an issue unless we make it one.”
He gets it. I don’t need to spell it out. It’s not that I want to protect my ego or some useless crap like that. But any sign that this mess rattled me could shake the team’s confidence, and that’s the last thing we need tonight.
And the last oneIneed. I’m not letting that creep ruin my chances of taking Audrey out on a date. That honor only belongs to her.
Lucky gives me a solemn nod, and I get it too. This stays between us, but he’s gonna be watching me. We dab and return to our places to finish suiting up for the game. No one else peeps even a twitch from my face, even though the throbbing is starting to get more annoying.
CHAPTER 45
AUDREY
Inever in my life wondered what it feels like to have different types of bugs on your skin, yet as of tonight I have the answer.
There are ants in my legs. Notonthem. Pretty sure what’s coursing through my veins isn’t blood—it’s freaking ants. They especially like to concentrate in my calves. No matter how hard I shake them, they don’t get off.
Meanwhile, my arms are being bitten by mosquitoes, the literal ones. You’d think the suckers would all be dead in the middle of October, but we’re still in peak hurricane season, and I guess they also love baseball. I smack one directly on my arm but when I lift my hand, all I see is the red of my skin and no quashed bugger in sight.
My chest is full of spiders, though. I know those aren’t bugs, but right now I can’t think of anything else that has so many legs. It’s like they’re line dancing inside of me to a tune only they know.
Or actually, to Miguel’s walk up song.
“Here we go,” mumbles Hope beside me, leaning forward so far that she almost falls onto the person sitting in front of her.
“Let’s do this, c’mon.” Rose claps non stop and continues repeating herself.
They’re freaking out just as badly as I am. Normally they’d be down there doing their kickass jobs, but they’re only human. And of the special kind that are deeply invested in the success and happiness of the men they love—official members of the WAGs club.
Shit, so am I. I already have planned out the route I need to take to the field once the guys win. Miguel will find me in a second. I’ll be the woman in the MACHADO 3 jersey and the weird alligator socks rolled up over my jeans.
“This is gonna have a happy ending, right?” Marty asks me while chewing on popcorn with her mouth open. Beside her, Consuelo’s hands are joined in prayer.
The only response I offer is a smile, because I’m not going to be the one who makes the team lose by jinxing them with my own damn mouth.
Yes, they’re gonna win. I know it in my bones. I feel it in my soul. I just can’t wait for reality to catch up with what I already know.
So I can kiss the daylights out of that man and tell him that I don’t really want to get divorced, as outrageous as that sounds.
The place is absolutely packed to the rafters and everyone’s buzzing—not just because it’s BOGO for beer at the concessions. There has been incessant yammering online about whether Miguel’s in a slump. After breaking the historical league record of home runs, it’s kinda odd that he hasn’t knocked at least one out of the park in the course of this series, even considering how the Riders have been fumbling the bag so hard.
Even then, there isn’t a single person in this stadium that doesn’t know that Miguel is capable of greatness even with a bunt. The Orlando Wild fans know it, the Denver Riders do too—and are also extremely unhappy with finding themselves on the other side of Miguel’s genius. Every single broadcastprofessional and staff knows it. The newborn babies in attendance know it.
And I sure as hell do.
