Yeah—my thoughts were a bit irrational, but in the past two weeks Fiona had somehow wormed her way into my mind, body and goddamn soul. Fuck the short-term bullshit. I cared about her. Plain and simple. I glanced over at her, her blue eyes dimmed and her posture a little less tall. Nope. I needed to talk to this guy. “Hey, buddy. Come here.”
I wiggled my fingers at the older guy and he pointed to himself right in the middle of the chest.Jesus.“Yeah. You.”
“The Gideon Titan wants to talk to me. Holy hell. Take a picture, Marge.” He slurred his words and moved to the area right beyond the chain-link fence. I swore I could feel the gaze of all the members in the dugout, but I put my back to them.
“Stop being an asshole.”
“That chick sent the runner and she shouldn’t have. This ain’t softball girl leagues.”
“Thanks for pointing out that obvious fact. Yes. I coach a baseball team, but so does CFD. Clearly, you aren’t rehearsed in plays. I called for a hit and run. That’s why Brad took off. The boys know they run if they miss a sign.”
“You sent him, then? Not that blonde girl?”
“Yes. I’m not repeating myself. Sit and watch the game—don’t make an ass of yourself or you’ll be banned from the field.” I laced each word with venom. I had no idea if we even had the ability to ban anyone from the field, but he backed away looking terrified. I gave him one more glare before releasing a long sigh. Fiona chewed on her bottom lip and closed the distance between us. “You okay?”
“Fine, yeah.”
“Fuck that guy.”
“Gideon. Kids are around,” she said with her eyes widening. “But yeah. Fuck him.”
I gripped her shoulder, giving her a squeeze, and glared at the asshole one more time. My pulse raced and I prayed he left the game as soon as it was over. I wasn’t sure who he was there to see, but I felt bad for the kid who was related to him.
“Coach Titan. Are…are those your teammates?” Big Al asked, his voice going an octave higher. I followed his pointed finger and grinned when Tate and Brigham nodded at me.They came.
“They are.” I opened the side gate and let them into the small dugout. We were on defense, Chris pitching quite well for the third inning, and I clapped my teammates on the back. “I didn’t know you were stopping by.”
“We didn’t either. Got bored. Wanted to see you in action. The team looks good. That hit and run didn’t work out, though. The catcher has a hell of an arm. You should’ve known that, Titan,” Brigham said, but his smile balanced out the sting. Their presence here meant a great deal and the conflicting emotions were hard to grasp. “Hey, kid. Where do you play?”
“I like to play second base. What do you play?”
“Hey, that’s my spot, too. Maybe Coach will put you in and I can give you some pointers.” Brigham raised his eyebrows at me and I nodded. I guess I had to put Big Al in the game. “You’re not a teenage boy.”
“You’re observant,” Fiona quipped back. Her tone rose, the flirtation easily coming off her. Brigham and Tate gave me sly grins before ignoring me entirely. Great.
“Are you the one assigned to coach with this clown?” Tate asked, elbowing my ribs. I shoved him away and scooted closer to their conversation. I didn’t appreciate the way Tate’s gaze went all the way down to her legs, or the fact that Brigham left mere inches between them.
“Yup. That’s me. He’s only moody half the time, though.”
“Funny. What’s your name?”
“Guys—she has a team to coach,” I replied, hoping they would get the hint. Brigham ignored me and I swore he got closer to her.
“Fiona Davis. You’re Brigham Donahue and Tate Monaghan. I dislike both of your walk-up songs, but the promo you did arguing over the fact that a hotdog is not a sandwich is hilarious.”
“Jason Aldean is great.”
“Country is not a baseball song. It’s not motivating.”
“Country is as American as baseball, sweetheart. You should know that if you’re trying to coach it,” Brigham fired back. Fiona got that glint in her eyes and my chest tightened. She was about to lay into him and it pleased me to no end.
“Sweetheart my ass, pretty boy. Your hitting slump in July stopped when you switched your song,sweetheart.”
Brigham blinked in response, Tate smothering a laugh. I had to chuckle—she was my little ballbuster. “You’re feisty.”
“So I’ve been told…” She slid her glance my way, winking, and patted Brigham on the shoulder. “Feel free to gossip. I’m going to coach…you know, the reason why we’re here.”
She left us at one end of the dugout and went to watch near the entrance. Big Al leaned against the fence, cheering on his teammates when Fiona ran out and called time. She didn’t discuss the move with me, and I realized I trusted her. I’d stopped trying to overanalyze moves she made on the field because she’d more than proved her knowledge. She leaned down, whispering something to Big Al, and sent him to second base. Cory, the kid who started almost every game, sprinted back into the dugout with a huge grin. She gave him a high-five and a huge smile, and I felt it in the center of my chest.Love. Warmth. Longing.
