The Dugout(73)

Cutting in, Jason says, “She’s going to have to really dig deep, but there’s a chance. Look at the sweat on Stone’s brow, the nervous shiver in his panties—”

“Fuck. Off,” Carson says, making all the guys laugh, even me.

“He’s nervous, scared, intimidated by the five-foot-three ball of power on the mound.”

“Five four,” I say.

“I stand corrected. Pop one more inch on her and now she’s a true menace out there.” Romeo leans in. “Only time will tell who will win this battle. Quiet on the field.”

Everyone hushes. I focus on the freshman’s glove, as Carson’s tall stature stands in the box, his forearms flexing, his eyes fixed on me.

I’ve been in this position many times. Face to face with Carson’s serious zeroing in. The focus, the intention in his body to put everything behind one powerful swing. I know his weaknesses by now and he knows mine. We’ve practiced so many times together that at this point, I’m surprised he hasn’t been able to hit the ball off me tonight. Then again, I’m throwing with more speed than I usually do, which will only lead to ugly pain tomorrow, but I’m ready to take it on, to become a part of the group of men surrounding us.

I get into my pitching stance. I glance at the guys who have huge smiles on their faces, and then focus back on the mitt. I’ve thrown two sliders in a row, so he’s expecting a change-up. It would be a classic move, to throw him off balance, but he knows that’s what’s coming, so he’ll have his hands locked, waiting for the off-speed ball. I need to get him where it counts.

Sending a mental apology to the freshman behind the plate, who has no idea what I’m throwing, I split my fingers over the seams and chuck a fastball in the top right of the strike zone, completely freezing Carson.

The “umpire,” also known as Gunner, bellows out a loud strike and makes a show of punching Carson out as all the guys rush the mound and hoist me over their shoulders, chanting my name and making a spectacle. Worried because I struck out my boyfriend in front of all his guys, I wince when I go to take him in. But instead of being greeted with anger, Carson, with the “bat” hanging over his shoulders and a huge smile on his face, has pride rolling off him in waves.

He gives me a wink and then watches as the guys praise my pitching and troll Carson relentlessly.

And of course, he takes it like a champ.





Teeth brushed and ready for bed, I slip into Carson’s cool sheets and welcoming arms. He pulls me tight into his embrace and I rest my cheek and hand on his bare chest, hearing his heartbeat beneath me.

It’s late, later than expected, and I’m just about ready to pass out. After hours of the guys taking their turn at trying to strike me out—Gunner was the only one I couldn’t get a stick on his pitch—we retired for the night. But it was a challenge getting to where we are right now. The boys begged for one more shot, asked for another chance to hit against me, but Carson finally stepped in and took charge, shutting everyone down.

He tossed me over his shoulder and took me to his room. He gave me a shirt to sleep in, gave me a spare toothbrush and a washcloth, and let me get ready for bed after he did. Now I’m snuggled into his warmth with my eyes closed and ready to pass out.

“I’m exhausted.”

“I bet,” he says, kissing the top of my head. “Needless to say, the guys really like you. You totally earned their approval tonight.”

“You think?”

“Without a doubt. I’d be surprised if they don’t try to stake claim on you tomorrow if I fuck things up with you.”

“Oh, you think I have my pick of any of them?” I playfully tap my chin, pretending to think long and hard about it. “Let’s see. Who would I want to be with? Well, Romeo has quite the reputation of treating the ladies well, and Orson, well, who can get over those catcher’s thighs? And then Gunner, just seeing him grip the ball does all sort of things to me.”

Silence.

Chuckling, I turn in his arms and face him. His brow is pinched together and he has an unamused expression. I press my finger between his brow. “You know you’re the only one I really want.”

“Wouldn’t hurt you to say it every now and again.”

Laughing, I grip his sides, his steel muscles flexing beneath my touch. “You’re all the man I will ever need, Carson.”

“And the other guys are mere peasants compared to me.”

“They shouldn’t even be in the same ballpark as you.”

“And their penises are tiny.”

I groan, of course. It always comes down to the penis with guys. “I can’t agree with that, I haven’t seen their penises, or yours for that matter.”

“We can change that.” He squeezes my backside. “Want me to take my briefs off so you can stare at it?”

“As appealing and magical as that seems—a total opportunity—I’m going to pass. I don’t want to examine your penis with tired eyes.”

“That would be a huge mistake, letting you go all in without a sharp perspective. Good call.” He pulls me in tighter and nuzzles his chin on my shoulder. “Thank you for coming over and getting to know the guys. It was probably intimidating.”

“A little. I was really nervous at first, but it felt like I fell right into step with them. And hey, I’m sorry about the whole pickle debacle.”