“Thanks for your keen observation.” I released breath after breath, trying my best to relax. “That guy was a total asshole and talked down to me for being a coach since I was a woman. Lots of doll, sweetheart and shit like that. I sassed him back and he just… God. It infuriates me when men think a woman can’t do something, like coach. Jesus.”
“Coach third.”
“Excuse me?” I blinked at him, positive I’d misheard him. “Coach what now?”
“Forgive me, but you’re abitof a ballbuster. You’re on my team. Fuck that guy. Coach third. Make all the calls and I swear we better fucking win the game.”
I didn’t even think. I jumped in the air, throwing my arms around his neck. I squeezed him in a hug and some unknown emotion had my chest feeling funny. I got warm and my rage instantly turned into joy. “I could kiss you right now.”
“Best not with all the, uh, kids,” he replied in a strained voice and pulled me off him. “Glad to help, though.”
“I’m so geeked right now. I get to call the signs. Me. I get to do it. You trust me?” I grinned at him, my skin pulling tight at the gesture. I clapped a couple of times and some of the boys gave me weird looks. I was past caring. “Gideon Titan, you have officially shocked me. This is coming from the guy who told me baseball is for men. You. You’re standing up for me.”
“Calm down, Barbie. It’s not that big of a deal.”
At my nickname, I met his gaze and I swore his smile sent tingles down my body. It was the dimpled, sweet smile I didn’t see often. He reached out, nudging me in the arm. “I take it you’ve already turned in the line-up?”
“Yup. We’re good to go, Coach. Except.” I paused and tried to figure where Garth was. He stood farthest away with his head hung low. “Apologize to Garth. He’s upset that you didn’t care about him memorizing your stats. He tried to impress you.”
“Shit, I blew him off.” He raised one of his sculpted arms and brought his fingers through his hair. “I had a hell of an afternoon. My family’s…well…you’re right. I’ll make it up to him.”
His expression changed to despair for a quick second and I desperately wanted to ask why or comfort him.What’s happening with Cheryl? Or Quinn?He stood up for me…I can return the favor, right?“If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know, okay? Apparently, we’re a team.”
“Yeah. We are.” His gaze lingered on my face for another five seconds before he went back to the dugout.
We didn’t talk for the rest of the warmup and I was okay with that. I had a game to coach and by god, I needed a win.
A couple of hours later, it came down to the last inning. “Listen up. Brad—I’m calling for a hit and run. You need to hit the ball in play and on the ground. Can you do that?”
“Yes, CFD.” He nodded and we both looked at Chris.
“Chris—take off the second he goes into the wind-up. Get a good lead. Listen for my call if you head to third or not.”
“Got it, Coach.” He fist-bumped me and the three of us did a power clap before he ran back to first. Gideon met my gaze across the field and gave me a smile. We were down by one run in the bottom of the ninth, and I wanted this win more than I’d ever wanted anything in my life. My adrenaline pounded down my throat, my blood pumping with fire, and I hit Brad on the helmet.
“I trust you, Brad. Bat to the ball. You got this!”
He strutted back to the home plate, adjusted his helmet and kicked the dirt three times. The pitcher and catcher communicated about the pitch and the crisp fall air froze around me. The lanky kid on the mound began his wind-up—Chris taking off like a horse coming out of a gate—and I held my breath.
Brad double-pumped his arms, his left leg lifting as he twisted his body to meet the ball. The wooden bat cracked against the ball, the sound echoing inside my head. It hit the dirt—hard—and bounced past the second baseman into the outfield. I swung my arm around like a goddamn propeller and Chris rounded second and streamlined for third.
“Down! Down!” I screamed. The right fielder had an arm and threw the perfect relay to get it to the shortstop, the best player on the opposing team. He caught and threw it in one continuous motion and it was going to beat Chris to the base.
Chris dove head-first into the bag just as the third baseman caught it. I whipped my head toward the umpire and his arms were outstretched as though he was measuring his wingspan. “Safe!”
“Yes! Hell, yes! Keep it going!” I shouted and jumped up and down, high-fiving Chris and looking like a maniac. We had two baserunners on, no outs and our best hitter up. Garth. “Let’s go, GT! Get some RBIs!”
The team all stood against the fence, every single one of them invested in their teammates. Pride blossomed through me and a wave of emotion had me blinking back tears.Not the goddamn time.“Wide gap in left center, Garth. Time the pitch and keep your arms right.”
He tapped the edge of his helmet, our telltale sign that the message was received. I glanced over at Gideon and would’ve laughed if I hadn’t been so stressed. He had his hands on his knees, his large frame leaning over with an aggressive expression on his face. He wanted this win, too.
The pitcher eyed the runners and went into his wind-up before—shit!He threw to the third baseman and Chris had too far a lead.Shit. Fuck!He was in a full-fledged pickle. He took three steps toward home, then third, then home as the defense did their best to get him out. But by god, their catcher—the son of the asshole coach, I’d learned in the first inning—overthrew the ball into the outfield and Chris easily scored.
That left Brad at second. All we needed was a single and we would have the game. I called time out and motioned for Garth to jog toward me. “Brad’s out there for you. What do we need right now?”
“A hit, CFD. Just a hit.”
“That’s right. Don’t worry about hitting a homerun or a rocket. We need contact on the ground that gets through the infield. Think you can aim for that?”
