Her eyes warmed at the term I used. Without the fire in them, they quite were unique. They were blue but had different shades of brown in them.Why the fuck am I analyzing her damn eyes?“Let’s go, kids. Three laps around the field. Brad—you lead the stretches.”
“Yes, sir!”
And they took off. Fiona joined me on the field with her clipboard and moved close, too close. Her floral scent surrounded me. “I did a mock line-up this morning, rather than do my homework. Not that you care. But, what do you think?”
I took the paper from her hands. Her perfume clouded my thoughts. The mere thought of her smelling good also annoyed me.Focus.I scanned the position chart and made a clicking noise with my tongue. “Almost.”
“What? What’s not right?” She moved close to me again.Does the woman have no sense of personal space?“I moved Thomas to first, like you said, but I refused to move Garth to catcher. Tayler should be there. He has the best reflexes.”
“Tayler should be at third—Garth catches and Max will be at short.” I handed the paper back to her. My muscles did an odd clenching thing when she neared me again. She huffed. “What?”
“I disagree with Max. He should be in center. He has the best arm.”
“These kids are fourteen and fifteen. They aren’t in the majors, honey. Trust me.” I scolded myself for sayinghoneybut it got the job done. She sneered at me and left me alone. Her and her little fanny pack joined the team stretching and her laugh echoed across the field. I needed a drink.
“Grounders, next. Lots of grounders. We need you to get lots of reps with the right fundamentals. Gideon, can you hit grounders and I’ll watch them?”
“You hit. I’ll coach them. Idoplay shortstop for Los Soles.” The boys all cheered and a flash of embarrassment crossed her face. I would’ve felt bad if it weren’t for my leg killing me. But this got me out of hitting. “I’ll grab a bucket—hold on.”
The idea was brilliant. I got to show off and not have to hurt myself. An empty white bucket sat at second base and I modeled how to cleanly scoop up a ball. “Leather to the belly. One motion. Don’t get fancy. A lot of professionals do, but errors happen that way.”
“Yeah. My dad said you got a golden glove because your stats are great,” Big Al said with awe. It mollified the crap out of me. Fiona scoffed and tapped her nails against the metal bat.Metal bat? Why is she using a metal bat?
“Sure did, kid. Thanks. Now, let’s take some grounders. Stay low and focused. Let’s go, CFD. Hit ’em hard.”
She smirked at me and the fire came back into her eyes.Shit.She tossed the ball into the air and used her entire body to hit a hell of a grounder at me. But I lived for this shit. I scooped it up cleanly and placed it in the bucket. Pain shot down my leg but adrenaline won. “That the best you got, girl?”
And hell ensued. She hit me ten, maybe twenty of the hardest grounders I had taken in a while. Whatever the hell was in that bat, I was damn glad the guys didn’t use it. My hand stung. “All right. Show’s over. Your turn, boys.”
She continued hitting, but not nearly as hard. I chose to stay with the kids and critique their fundamentals—backs straight, legs low, loose on their feet. Most of them weren’t bad. They impressed me, and I told them so. “Water break.”
The minions charged into the dugout and I snuck at glance at Fiona. She stretched her arms over her head, bending low to the ground. My stomach tingled.Tingled?What the hell?
“Coach Titan. I have a question.” Big Al pressed his face into the fence. “Are you and CFD together, together?”
“Ha, no. No way, kid.”Together? Ha. Ha. Ha.
“Oh. Well. Okay.” He frowned and went back to his water bottle. So much disappointment came from that little body I had to shake my head to get rid of the weird emotion.
“Are we having a sleepover at your house this weekend, Coach?” Garth asked and his place as the natural leader on the team didn’t surprise me. He should be the catcher. I was more certain than before. “CFD said something about it during warmups. My mom told me lots of the other parents are willing to chaperone. I wish they wouldn’t, because my mom is annoying.”
“Did she now?” I searched for her, but she remained out of sight. Smart girl. “I don’t know. Do we have a game this weekend?”Nosy parents in my house? Will the hot one be there?
“No. Just practice. I figured Saturday night. Bonding and stuff.” He smiled and I found myself nodding. Sleepovers were a fond memory from when I’d played travel ball. I’d been thrown into camp after camp at their age, but the nostalgia hit me harder than I would’ve guessed. “Hell, yeah! Sorry. Heck, yeah!”
I laughed. The team cheered and I went to find the little sneak. She stood behind the dugout, pretending to search for something. “Fiona.”
“Oh, hey.” She blushed. “What do you want?”
“Make sure you pack a bag when you stay the night with me.” I bent to the ground so we were face-to-face. I enjoyed flustering her. The pulse at her neck raced and I didn’t have to fake my smile. “I always knew we would spend the night together.”
“Wh-what are you talking about?”
“The team sleepover you planned. You’re spending the night, too. Make sure to pack something silky. I sure as hell ain’t being left alone with all the moms who sacrificed their night tovolunteer.”
She mumbled a response, but all I heard wasasshole.And suddenly, Saturday didn’t seem like a bad idea.
Chapter Seven
