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Tucker was standing on the makeshift mound with his back to her, staring down a pitching target at the end of the green like it was his worst enemy. He set up, huffed a breath, then released his pitch.
It knocked the corner of the target, nowhere near the strike zone.
Tucker growled and announced, “Fuck you too, you goddamn piece of shit.”
“You know, it didn’t actually move,” she pointed out, the newspaper rustling in the wind.
He jumped and turned towards her, a nervous expression on his face. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough to see you walk the invisible batter.”
His shoulders slumped, and his frown deepened. Emmy had the distinct feeling she’d hit him where it hurt without trying to.
“I was teasing,” she said.
“Yeah, except you’re right. If I keep pitching like this, they’re going to banish me to the farm team.” He tossed the ball up and caught it in the same hand. His long fingers made it look positively miniscule. Emmy sucked back a sigh and reminded herself she was there because she was angry, not because she wanted to think wanton things about Tucker’s long fingers.
“I have to ask you something.”
“If it’s to teach you how to pitch, you’d have better luck asking the groundskeeper.”
“Ha-ha.” Emmy rolled her eyes and didn’t pretend to smile. She held the newspaper up and pressed it against the chain-link fence. The pages didn’t rest flat, their edges ruffling in the late-morning wind.
“What’s that?” He dropped the ball into a nearby bag and approached the fence, squinting in the sunlight to see what she was showing him. “An article about you?”
Emmy stopped holding up the paper and glowered at him. “Don’t say that like you have no idea.”
“Why would I have any idea?”
She lifted the paper again and recited his own quote back to him with a hint of faux masculinity in her voice, affecting his Midwestern softness. When she looked back up, he was grinning at her, and her heart might as well have exploded.
“Do you really think I sound like that?”
“You’re sort of missing the point there, Thirteen.”
Tucker unlocked the gate and opened the door, swinging it in towards him. “Come in here and let me have a look.”
Emmy hesitated, clinging to the paper and staring at him through the open gate.
“I won’t bite,” he assured her.
That wasn’t what worried Emmy so much. She was more afraid of her own desire to take a nibble out of him.
Must keep tongue and teeth to myself.
He smiled again, and she wasn’t sure she’d be able to keep any promises she’d made to herself when he played dirty like that.
Chapter Fourteen
He should have left her outside.
Keeping a cage between them seemed like a smart thing, given his penchant for wanting to touch her. She must have been aware of it too, because she kept an arm’s length between them when she handed the paper off and quickly went to sit on the bench. She picked up one of his wayward balls and tossed it from hand to hand.
Tucker flattened the rumpled paper and read through the article. He was apparently going too slow for Emmy’s taste because her knees began to bounce, and he was barely halfway done when she got to her feet and started to pace nearby.
“I don’t know what you’re so bent out of shape over. It’s a really flattering article.”
Emmy’s cheeks turned red, but not in the cute way he was used to. Her neck and ears flushed a pink hue as well, reminding him of a cartoon character who was about to have steam pour out of her ears.
