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Being the President of the Iron Fiends had been my dream, but at this moment, it felt more like a burden than anything else.
Chapter Eight
Poppy
I set my plate down in the sink, letting the warm water cascade over it as I scrubbed away the remnants of my meal.
But peace was short-lived, especially with the guys filtering out of church, their voices carrying into the kitchen. Throttle’s question pierced through the air, drawing my attention away from the task at hand.
“Where are the girls and Rocky?” he asked, his voice filled with a hint of concern.
I paused and wiped my hands on a dishcloth before turning to face him. “Uh, I’ve been out here for twenty minutes or so, and I haven’t seen them,” I replied, moving back to the stool I had been sitting on.
As if they were called, the front door swung open, and Rocky rushed in, followed closely by Olive, Sloane, and Dove. The energy shifted with their entrance, filling the room with laughter and chatter.
“Where the heck were you?” Cue Ball demanded, his tone teasing but concerned.
Olive rolled her eyes, a playful smirk gracing her lips as she walked into Cue Ball’s arms. “Rocky wanted to practice his pitching, so we were in the back,” she explained.
“Spoiler alert,” Sloane laughed, joining in on the banter. “Rocky is really good at pitching, and I am not really good at batting.”
Dove nudged Sloane playfully. “He struck you out every time,” she added with a grin.
Sloane rolled her eyes but seemed content. “I’m just a little rusty,” she defended, mimicking a batting stance. “Next time I’m going to smash one out of the park.”
“Backyard,” Aero scoffed, moving to scoop Sloane up into his arms. “You think I can be your coach? Teach you a few things?” he asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
Sloane squealed and giggled as Aero tickled her. “There’s no tickling in baseball,” she laughed. “You’re not playing fair.”
“I’m playing to win, baby,” he purred into her ear.
Whoa boy. Sloane and Aero were like a match made in heaven.
Hell, the same could be said for Olive and Cue Ball and Dove and Throttle.
“You getting good, or is Sloane just easy to strike out?” Cue Ball teased Rocky.
“Eh,” Rocky shrugged. “I think it’s a little bit of both.” He tossed his glove on the couch, then sat on the arm.
“He’s getting better,” Olive insisted, her confidence unwavering. “I know for sure he will strike out each and every kid next game.”
Throttle reached for Dove, his concern visible in his expression. “You think it was smart for you guys to go outside without one of us with you?” he asked, his protective instincts kicking in.
Dove gestured to the others who had joined us in the clubhouse. “We had Garett, Mark, and Adalee with us,” she reassured him.
It was then that I noticed the camera crew for the first time, their presence a stark reminder of the reality show I had unwittingly become a part of. I couldn’t help but feel a pang of self-consciousness, wondering what moments they had captured while I was lost in my own thoughts earlier.
Dove quickly introduced me to them.
Garett, with his bulky camera, Mark wielding a large microphone boom, and Adalee clutching her clipboard, stood as silent observers of our lively group.
“For the record,” Garett interjected, breaking the silence. “Rocky is one hell of a pitcher, and Sloane chose the correct hobby of reading.”
“Rude,” Sloane called out in mock offense. “I ticked one of them.”
Mark chuckled. “That’s being generous. I think you just hit a huge ass mosquito.”
Through the laughter, Adalee spoke up, her voice cutting through the chatter. “Are you all done with your meeting? We need to do some interviews.”
