Be My Game Changer: A Sports Romance(36)

26





CARTER





The week on the road has had plenty ups and downs, but the highlight of each day was always when I talked to Avery about everything and nothing. There’s no comparison to being with her, though, and I’m trying to be patient. Damn, it’s difficult.

Because I can’t slow my roll where she’s concerned, I’d asked her before the game this morning if I could stop by on my way home from the stadium after we traveled back. So when I pull up to her apartment, I opt to leave my bag in my truck. Planning to play it cool, I figure if everything goes well, I can avoid going to my house altogether and simply “remember” I have my bag out in my truck. Lame, but I want her to want me to stay. I shouldn’t just assume she’s okay with it after being away from her for the week.

The door of her apartment flies open, and the gorgeous sight of her smile and sparkling eyes send all thoughts of anything but her right out the window. Stepping inside, I wrap an arm around her, bringing her lips to mine. I walk her back until she’s pressed up against the wall, then I pull her slightly forward, grip her ass, and lift. Her legs wrap around my waist as I lean into her.

Her arms snake around my neck and I’m unable to suppress my smile. “I’ve been wanting to do that the entire damn week.” Coach was right. Leaving her had been difficult but coming home to her is hot as hell.

“Me too,” she laughs, leaning in to kiss me again. When my phone rings, she pulls back, watching me. “You gonna get that?”

“Nope.”

“Carter …” She attempts to squirm out of my arms.

“Avery,” I say with mock seriousness, to which she stills, eyebrows shooting up in question, “my hands are on your ass. They’ll leave a message if it’s important.”

She smiles and rolls her eyes, but she likes it as much as I do. “You should answer it. It’s late, so I’m sure they’re calling for a reason.”

I don’t want to let her go, but she’s adamant, so I officially trash my playing-it-cool plan. “Am I staying here tonight?”

Her eyes don’t meet mine as she says, “I hope so.”

“Remember where we left off.” The promise of a night in her bed is enough for me to release her temporarily but not before I give her another quick kiss, then I set her back on her feet.

Pulling the phone out of my pocket, I see Dundee’s number. This better be good. “Yes, Coach?” I ask, watching as Avery walks into her kitchen, grabs a bottle of water, and props her hip against the counter. I follow her, accepting the bottle she offers me as Dundee continues his lecture from the plane. I had one rough inning yesterday, and he’s been on my ass nonstop. I’ve reassured him it was a fluke—I messed up, made a few wrong calls, and paid the price by giving up two RBIs and then a home run.

“Lowe, it’s important that we stay on track. All season. You’ll be there tomorrow for warm-ups, right?”

“Yes, sir. I’ll be there.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it. Although, even seeing your decision to change from a splitter to a four-seamer for Hastings was unbelievable. We went over the lineup, and I know you knew the best call.” Dundee’s frustration matches my own, but mine is a little less on the surface than his. I know I made the wrong call which was shaking off the first sign for a splitter from Lynch. Even he hesitated, giving me the splitter signal again before he moved to the next sign for a four-seam fastball.

“Yes. I get it. I shouldn’t have shaken off the calls.”

“Carter, a few bad calls can be the beginning of many.”

Damn. One off inning and he’s ready to yank me from the roster. Or, at least that’s how it feels. “Then I’ll be sure to not make any more bad calls. Like I told you during your trip to the mound in the fourth, I just needed to regroup, and I appreciated the blow. Then I proved it after you were back to the dugout, right?”

I hear a sputtering cough and look over to see Avery wiping her mouth, slapping her hand against her chest as she gives me a strange look. “Are you okay?” I ask her, and she quickly nods.

I figure the only thing I can do is show Coach I’m still in the game. I can have Avery and still be a good ball player. I can. Only right now, all I want to focus on is her after being deprived for a week. Plus, I’m still trying to figure out what’s going on as she coughs again.

Needing to wrap up, I tell Dundee, “I’ll be there early so we can review everything I did wrong once more.”

“See you then, smart-ass.” Coach finally hangs up and my full attention is on Avery and those reddened cheeks.

“Are you sure you’re okay over there?”

“Yeah.” She takes a sip of water, clearing her throat.

“What has you all choked up then?”

Her cheeks blush a bit more as she asks, “What exactly did you mean by your coach gave you a blow? Because you don’t even want to know how I interpreted that.”

“Well, well, well. Look which one of us has their mind in the gutter.”

“Who wouldn’t?” She throws her hands in the air. “You just said he gave you a blow, any normal person would draw the same conclusion.”

“No, only a person who keeps her nose in those sexy books would interpret it like that.” I enjoy seeing her frazzled at the thought of her mind in the gutter, because I know mine has been there more times than not when I think of her. “But in my world, blow means breather. He saw my head wasn’t on straight, so he came out to the mound to settle me down. Gave me a few seconds to breathe.”