Page 31 of Truth or Tequila (Grand Slam 1)

Chapter Twelve

seb

“Sophie!”

She doesn’t see it and it’s on a collision course with her head. I know he lobbed it at her on purpose. That pisses me off, but one problem at a time. I’m about a foot from her before she even registers my presence. She finally looks up from her phone as I wrap my arm around her to shield her with my body. I snag the ball just before it hits her.

“What the—” She looks up at me as I hold the ball in front of her face. She flinches like I’m trying to smack her with it.

“You might want to get your nose out of your phone and look up when you’re walking on the field. Baseballs are flying everywhere during warmups.”

She looks from the ball to me. “Wait, did that almost hit me? I didn’t even see it.”

“Yeah, I’m aware of that, Sophie. It almost hit you in the head.” I reluctantly let her go. “Get your nose out of your phone.”

“I was working.” She holds up her phone like she’s doing show and tell for her third-grade class. When she smiles at me, her head tilts a little bit. It’s so cute.

I lower her arm to her side. “Work with your eyes up when you’re on the field,” I say, smiling back at her.

“Hey, asshole,” I hear coming from behind me. “You want to throw me back the ball.”

When I turn around, I see Marty Clarkson looking at me. We played a few months of minor league together. The team signed him for the rest of the season. He’s a decent outfielder, but just a horrible human being. I walk over to him, slinging the ball between my hand and my glove.

“She’s off limits,” I say when I get closer. I’m squeezing the ball so hard that I’m a little surprised it’s not crumbling in my hand. “If I see you trying to get her attention again, we’re going to address that asshole comment. You understand me?”

“Nice to see you again, too, Seb,” he says, laughing. “I didn’t know she was yours—”

I take another toward him—until I’m inches from his face. “She’s not mine. She’s definitely not yours. She belongs to herself. She’s here to do a job—just like you. Treat her with respect.”

“All right, Franchise. We’re good. We’re good,” he says, backing up. “Remember we’re on the same team here.”

“I think you hit a nerve, Marty.” I turn toward the opposing team’s dugout to see Lance Buckley staring at me. “You hitting that, Seb? Good work if so. She’s a mighty fine specimen of woman.”

He nods his head toward where Sophie’s standing. I keep my eyes fixed on him. “You going to try to steal a base on me again tonight, Buckley? What are you now? Like oh and twenty against me? I’d think you would have learned your lesson by now.”

He spits out a few sunflower seed shells. “Ah, I see. You can’t close that deal, huh? Maybe I’ll take a shot at her after the game tonight. I’d like to take a peek under that little dress she’s almost wearing.”

“Keep talking, Buckley,” I say, turning toward our dugout. “It’s the only thing you do well.”

I turn around to look for Sophie. She’s not on the field anymore. It’s probably better. I can’t concentrate on anything except her when she’s around. I need to get my head in the game.

“Seb.” Bud, our manager, is jogging over to me. “Are you done warming up? You need to get off the field. Seb? What’s wrong with you? Snap out of it. We’ve got a game to play.”

* * *

When I walk out to take the field, I glance over to the owner’s box seats. A wave of relief washes over me when I see Sophie sitting there. For some reason, I’ve started to feel like I need to know where she is before my brain can even function.

She’s looking at me, a gentle smile on her beautiful lips. I have my mask on, but I nod slightly. Her smile gets bigger. She definitely saw the nod. I feel a rush of adrenaline shoot through my body.

God, she makes me hungry—hungrier than I’ve been in years. Just looking at her makes my heart beat faster. When I touch her, I feel like I’m about to explode. I can’t even imagine what would happen if she let me kiss her or—

“Hey, Miller!” Dane yells at me from the pitcher’s mound. “You want to get behind the plate or do you want me to throw to the ump tonight?”

I look at Sophie one more time before I take my place for the top of the first. After we get a quick two outs, Lance Buckley walks to the plate. He’s their toughest out. He almost always finds a way to get on base. He works a count like no other player I’ve ever seen.

Buckley takes a called strike and then fouls one off. Dane’s got his slider working. It’s a tricky little bastard when it’s moving right, and it’s moving just right tonight. I call for it again. Dane shakes me off. He wants to throw his heater, even though Buckley has owned it all season.

Dane’s the most stubborn person I’ve ever met. I’ve caught every one of his games this season. He’s 15-2—his best season by far—but he still feels like he can tell me what he wants to pitch. I call for the slider two more times. He shakes me off. Fine. Throw your fastball. Let’s see how far Buckley can hit it this time.

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