Page 4 of The Pitcher’s Proposal

“I put this aside for you,” she says. “Chicken, rice, roasted vegetables, and fruit. You also need to finish another bottle of electrolytes before you leave.”

“Sounds romantic.”

“It’s medically appropriate.”

“Even better.”

She slides the plate toward me, and our fingers almost touch. Even with the missed contact, my body reacts. It always does. I’ve spent months wondering what her skin would feel like beneath my hands, what sounds she’d make if I kissed her, and how perfectly those thick thighs would fit around my waist.

Dakota pulls her hand back and looks toward the clubhouse. The humor fades from her face.

“Tough game,” she says quietly.

“Yeah.”

“You pitched well.”

“Not well enough to pitch all nine.”

Her brows draw together. “That isn’t on you.”

“I know.” I pick up the electrolyte bottle beside my plate and twist off the cap. “Doesn’t mean I have to enjoy it.”

She leans one hip against the counter. “How are the guys doing?”

“Pissed off. Tired of losing.”

“And you?”

“I’m more worried about them than me.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

She watches me, and I know my smile isn’t enough to fool her. Dakota has a way of paying attention that gets under every defense a man has. She notices when one of the rookies skips breakfast because he’s nervous. She remembers who calls home before afternoon games and who eats more when he’s stressed. She never forces anyone to talk, but people tell her things anyway.

I’m willing to tell her anything she wants to know. I just haven’t figured out how to tell her the whole truth.

“I’m trying to stay optimistic,” I say. “We’re still in it. We’ve got time.”

Not much. We’re chasing two teams for the final wild-card spot, and every loss makes the road narrower. I refuse to say that aloud. The season isn’t over until the math says it’s over.

Dakota nods. “You guys are still in it. I believe in the team.”

“I knew there was a reason I liked having you around.”

Dakota laughs, warm and soft, and the sound soothes me like nothing else does. I take a drink while watching her. Being near her doesn’t erase the loss, but it reminds me there are still things worth wanting after a shitty night.

I set the bottle down. “Come have breakfast with me tomorrow.”

“You have a noon game.”

“I eat breakfast before noon.”

“You also have to be here early.”

“Then come early.”

“I’ll already be here.”