Fisher's Light(76)

“Put Lucy in,” I argue. “She can at least get us a base hit and then I’m up after that.”

“Since you aren’t the team captain this year, a wise decision after your behavior last time, sit down and keep your opinions to yourself,” he argues back.

I’m about two seconds away from shoving my father into the dugout fence behind him when Lucy comes up next to me and puts a hand on my arm.

“It’s fine if your father doesn’t want to put me in,” she says sweetly. “If we do end up winning, we’ll just have to forfeit our victory and give the trophy to the other team. No big deal.”

I watch her shrug with a cheeky smile and I try not to laugh.

“What the hell are you talking about?” my father asks in irritation.

“Oh, didn’t you hear? They established rules this year on account of Erika throwing that ball at Stephen’s head last year because he kept making jokes about her holding his balls when she got up to bat,” Lucy informs him.

I chuckle to myself, a little sad that I didn’t get to witness THAT moment between the married owners of the town’s dry cleaners.

“Not only are spouses no longer allowed to play on the same team, every person ON the team must get at least one up-to-bat. Any violation of the rules results in a forfeit,” Lucy finishes with another sweet smile.

“Why didn’t I hear about these stupid rules?” my father grumbles.

Lucy leans up on her tip toes and snatches the baseball cap from my head and puts it on her own, pulling her ponytail through the hole in the back before grabbing a bat from the holder beside my father. “I’m sure you were too busy trying to take over the world to pay attention at the last town meeting. It’s a good thing you have me.”

She moves past him and out of the dugout, putting a little extra swing in her hips as she goes. My father throws his cap across the dugout and I laugh right in his face before moving to the opening so I can get a better look at Lucy’s ass.

I mean, yell some encouraging words as she practices her swing.

Seriously though, those tiny black cotton shorts she’s wearing have been torturing me all day and watching her lean forward and stick out her ass as she gets ready for the first pitch is making me sweat. My heart is also thundering a little harder in my chest that she’s wearing my cap, something she’d always done. Even when she’d bring her own hat to the game, she’d always take it off and steal mine when she was up to bat, arguing that it brought her good luck. It was an outright lie because she never got a hit whether she wore my hat or not, but it still made me feel good to see her wearing it. She looks so f*cking hot in that white Butler House tank top and tiny black shorts with my baseball hat on her head.

“Let’s go, Lucy! Homerun!”

The crowd screams and cheers when they see her up to bat and now I’m nervous as hell. She played softball her senior year of high school, and let’s just say she spent a lot of time on the bench. We’ve played in many games together since she started running Butler House, and her skills hadn’t really improved, either. It didn’t matter to her because she was playing for fun, but I really want her to show up my father and make him look like an ass.

The first pitch comes and flies right by her.

“STRRRRRIKE!”

“Well, there goes this year’s trophy,” my father mutters in irritation behind me.

“Come on, Lucy! You can do this!” I shout to her, ignoring my father.

She tightens her grip on the bat, shaking her hips a little as she gets into stance. My dick immediately wakes up in my shorts and starts panting.

The next pitch comes and she swings a second too late.

“STRRRRRIKE!”

Half the crowd boos while the other half cheers and I step out onto the dirt and yell for a time-out. Butch, who’s the ump today, backs away from the plate while I jog over to Lucy.

“Shit. I forgot how much I suck at softball,” Lucy laughs nervously as I approach her.

“You’re doing fine,” I tell her. “Just choke up on the bat a little.”

Grabbing her hands, I move them up the neck of the bat. She looks up at me and I don’t remove my hands from around hers on the bat as I stare down into her blue eyes. I take another step closer to her until our toes are touching and I can feel her breath on my face.

“Keep your eyes on the ball the entire time, from the second it leaves the pitcher’s hand until it connects with your bat,” I tell her softly.