Page 68 of Serving Bunt

“You know, I’ve been around long enough to see a lot of people waste time worrying about what they should do instead of what actually makes them happy.” His voice was low and casual, but there was weight behind it. “One day you blink and you’re forty-something, wondering why you didn’t take the shot when you had the chance. Especially when it’s staring you right in the face.”

My throat tightened.

James wasn’t looking at me anymore. His eyes were trained on Diaz cheering on Tucker as he rounded second while Mo licked the barbecue sauce off his fingers.

He knew. I didn’t know how, but he did.

Or at the very least, he suspected.

My stomach did a slow, nervous flip. I opened my mouth, ready to play dumb, but James just gave me a small smile and clapped me on the shoulder.

“Don’t overthink it, Miller. Life’s too short for that.”

He walked off before I could respond, leaving me standing there with my thoughts spinning and my face warm. I stared after him for a long moment, his words echoing in my head while I waited for my order.

One day you blink and you’re forty-something, wondering why you didn’t take the shot when you had the chance.

James was right.

I had spent months running from this thing with Diaz—from the text messages, the kiss at the wedding, the fear of what it all might mean. I had convinced myself it was safer to hide and pretend we were just teammates, but every time Diaz looked at me the way he did tonight, every time our knees brushed or his fingers “accidentally” found mine under the blanket . . .

It felt like the safest place I’d ever been.

I was done wasting time being scared.

I wanted him. Diaz.

Peter.

I pulled out my phone before I could talk myself out of it.

Me

Does the offer still stand?

The reply came almost immediately.

Diaz

Which one?

Me

Your tongue. My freckles.

Diaz

Just say when and where, tesoro.

I smiled, heat curling low in my stomach.

Me

Cabin. Seventh-inning stretch.

And then, for good measure, I added:

Me