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Still, she did kind of want to win. Not because she liked the sport. Because she liked winning.
Then there was a crack of the bat as Emma lined the ball over the head of the third baseman and everyone started yelling. Like, everyone.
Ironically, the loudest voice was Emma screaming at Julie to run, run, run, which was rather unnecessary, as running was the only athletic endeavor Julie could do, thanks to Mitchell’s penchant for marathons.
Julie apparently drew the line at Emma’s scream to slide but made it safely to third all the same, while Emma gloated on second and Jake did an admirable job of not having a heart attack on the pitching mound.
Riley was so delighted with her friends’ success that she didn’t immediately realize what Emma’s clutch hit meant for her.
Bottom of the ninth.
Two outs.
Runner on third.
Now there wasn’t
even a ghost of a chance that Jake would walk her out of pity. She actually had to swing.
Sam stopped his cheering and came up behind her, planting palms on her shoulders. “You’ve got this.”
“Really? Because I seem to remember soccer being more my thing.”
“Only because you liked the outfits better.”
“Have you actually seen women’s soccer gear? It’s not exactly a short cheerleading skirt.”
“I remember the way you wore those soccer shorts.”
She gave him a surprised look, and he shrugged. “First day we met. You’d just gotten home from practice and were wearing shorts.”
“You remember that?”
“I remember all of it.” His eyes flicked to hers for a half beat before he removed his hands and shoved her none too gently forward. “Go get ’em.”
Great. Now her hands were shaking from the tension of the game and whatever moment had just passed between her and Sam.
Camille stood behind the plate with hands on her hips, and Riley saw from her boss’s narrowed eyes that she’d observed that entire encounter.
“There’s a reason coed sports end after sixth grade,” Camille muttered.
Alex Cassidy came out from the Oxford dugout to stand with Camille behind the plate. “What are you doing here?” she asked.
“Just providing a second opinion,” he said smoothly.
“You think I’d cheat?” Camille asked, eyes fierce behind her rented ump mask.
“Let’s just say the stakes got a little higher with that last at bat,” Alex said, his eyes flicking briefly to second base, where Emma stood, hands on her hips, glaring right back.
“Emma’s pretty good, isn’t she?” Riley said cheekily to Cassidy as she strolled up to the plate, keeping her voice and posture casual as though the entire game didn’t rest on her shoddy hand-eye coordination.
Cassidy’s eyes narrowed just briefly, and Riley caught an unexpected glimpse of the alpha businessman hiding behind that easygoing lankiness.
Look out, Emma.
And then she forgot all about Emma and Cassidy, about Camille and even Sam, because it was just her and Jake.
Grace’s boyfriend—no, fiancé—might make a ridiculously attractive Hugh Jackman look-alike, but right now he was the enemy.
