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Blondie: I’ll smile whenyou’re home.
Me: I’m on my way home. After the game, we’ll go back to my place to make up for the five days we’ve been apart
I couldn’t helpbut smile down at number thirty-five. His back was to me, but I was enjoying the view. The way his royal blue jersey pulled across his broad shoulders and how perfect his ass looked in white pants. Other than on TV and FaceTime, I hadn’t seen him in days. So I’d soak in the sight of him for as long as I could. The national anthem ended, and we all clapped and lowered into our paddle seats.
“I love it when they wear the white pants.” Smirking, Jana rested her booted feet on the railing in front of us and sipped her High Noon.
“I like the pinstripes better. Makes their asses pop. But it’s hard to pick a favorite ass out of that lineup, isn’t it?” Wren lifted her chin and scanned the guys. “Not for Avy, though. She has her favorite.”
Jana leaned forward and waggled her brows at me. “Are you ready to thank us yet?”
I frowned. They’d told all of Chris’s friends on the team about my date, and I was still irked by it. Chris had been distraught that day, and I hated seeing him like that. “Just because it worked out doesn’t mean it was a good idea. You two caused a whole load of trouble.”
“Ooh, I love trouble.” Dylan, Cortney Miller’s fiancée, peeked overthe railing separating the owner’s box from ours. “Can I help?” She was a gorgeous, bubbly redhead with curly hair and a bright smile.
Next to her, Liv Langfield inhaled deeply and held it, then blew it out slowly. “She means can she help solve the problem, not cause trouble.”
“Right,” Dylan chirped. “That’s exactly what I meant.” The way she pursed her lips and rolled her eyes, though, gave her away.
“Firefly, are you about to cause chaos?” Cortney Miller walked out the glass door clad in a pinstripe Revs jersey and holding a pink bundle.
“Oh my gosh.” I hopped up. “Willow’s here!”
Chris had sent me photos of the two-week-old, but I’d yet to meet her. A very proud daddy turned and tipped forward carefully so we could see her big blue eyes as she looked around. She had a full head of red hair and the chubbiest cheeks I’d ever seen; she was an angel.
“Can I hold her?” I asked.
Cortney frowned and took a small step back, but then Dylan was by his side and plucking the baby out of his arms. “She’s not made of glass, Samson. Let her experience other people’s energy, or she’ll never grow into a well-rounded member of the greater we.” She spun, her red hair flapping around her, and handed me the baby. “And we really want Willow to experience all those pinks that Avery channels.”
Even wrapped in the thick pink blanket, the little girl hardly felt like anything in my arms. I bowed my head so I could get a good whiff of that baby scent and gave her a small squeeze. When I looked up again, Cortney was stepping up to the half wall, asking for her back. I couldn’t help but chuckle at the overprotective dad as I gently placed her in his arms.
Once he had his daughter securely against his chest, he took a step back, and his eyes widened. “Oh, wow.” He smirked. “This is the first time I’ve seen you in a jersey that wasn’t two decades old.”
Shit. With my heart lodged in my throat, I tugged at the blue shirt I’d pulled on over my hoodie and shifted on my feet, scuffing my Converse on the ground. I hadn’t thought through an explanation, although I should have known someone would notice that I wasn’t wearing Dad’s number 49 and comment. “Yeah, I uh?—”
“Lost a bet.” Wren waved a hand in the air, saving me from stumbling through a nonsensical reason. “Whoever got the most guys to buy them drinks on my birthday got to pick the jersey for the loser.” She smirked. “Why she thought she’d beat the birthday girl, I have no idea.”
I rolled my eyes at her. She had tried to get us to bet her, and though I’d resisted, I had been the one to drag her drunk ass home on Saturday night.
“Huh.” Cortney looked out at the field and watched Chris walk out to the mound. “We should get Willow in. It’s cold out here. Come on, Dylan.” He tipped his man bun toward the glass door, and the two headed inside, with Liv on their heels.
I let out a breath.
“Thanks for covering,” I said to Wren. “I didn’t think about who’d be sitting in the box next to us.” I leaned against the railing.
Chris was standing on the mound, but he was looking my way. A thrill shot through me at the attention. Slowly, I turned in a circle, showing off the jersey he didn’t know I had tucked into my drawer before spring training started. A smile pulled at his lips as he dug his foot into the sand beneath the mound. He watched me for a long moment, then tapped the fingers of his right hand on his left wrist.
My heart flipped in my chest, and I couldn’t hold back the smile creeping over my face.
“What?” Jana asked.
“Nothing.” I sat back down, adjusting my denim skirt.
Chris nodded at the sign Price gave him, then wound up. The way he lifted his arm and snapped the ball toward home plate was fluid, like a choreographed dance. The ball traveled so quickly it was hard to see before it slammed into Asher’s mitt.
“Strike!”
The 105 flashed on every Jumbotron in the stadium.
