Who knew there were so many big-ass dudes who love baseball?
“No, sir, go Cobras,” I say politely and turn my attention back to the game. I can feel Birdie laughing in my arms, and I give her a little pinch.
She laughs harder.
“Hey!” His big meaty hand makes contact with my shoulder, and he nudges me hard enough to make Birdie and me both fall into the couple next to us. Birdie nearly topples a table and lets out a little scream when she does. “I’m talking to you.”
I turn back to the guy after steadying her and give him my bestyou just pissed me offface. Sure, he was probably a hundred pounds bigger than me, but he just freaking pushed my woman.
What. The. Fuck.
“Hey,” I start, not wanting to throw punches with this guy (I’m prideful but notthatprideful), and say, “Apologize to my girl.”
He scoffs, looking at her with more than a cursory glance, which, well, pisses me off more.
“Hey!” I say louder, getting the attention of everyone around me. I’m not surprised that people are now watching this unfold. Maddox could get a damn home run right now, and they’d still be watching me.
“What? You want some, punk?” The guy drops his beer right on the floor, the glass shattering, and I stand my ground. Birdie’s behind me, clutching my arm, but the guy steps forward, both hands landing on my chest and shoving as hard as he can. “Come on then,” he says, waving me forward. “Fight back.”
“No, thank you.” Even I know, with all this masculinity running through me, that I was not going to win a fight against the behemoth. Not even close.
“I said, fight back.” He sends another shove, and I can’t help it, I duck down and ram my shoulder into his gut.
I severely underestimate how big he is and how little my momentum will send him. Severely.
He doesn’t move. Not an inch.
“Derek!” Birdie screeches, and I stand up, slowly letting my gaze run up to the BAD guy—that’s Big-Ass Dude, with respect—and he smiles at me.
It’s not a nice smile.
The fist comes, and my black eye is sure to follow. The first punch sets off a riot of punches; people see the bigguy, and others try to tackle him. Some push me off of him, I assume whatever friends he’s got with them, and I get a couple of good punches in when they come at me.
My eye is throbbing, but the adrenaline is coursing through me at an outrageous speed. Whistles sound through the air, and suddenly BAB is there, tugging me out of the throng with several others and completely out of the Rage Room.
Birdie is tugged behind me, and we’re all led—yes, all—down to the dungeons. Aka, the baseball security, where they conveniently have some jail cells.
Like, actual jail cells.
I’m thrown in one with Birdie, which I assume is not customary, and the rest of the throng are thrown into the other few cells they have.
“How’d you end up here?” I ask her, my eye watering.
She shrugs, her hair poking up in random places and her breath still coming out rapidly. “Well, the girlfriends started attacking, so I pulled some hair. No biggie.”
For a moment, the two of us stare at each other. She’s got a small cut on her lip, and she looks a mess. I’m sure I look no better, but then, like we just can’t help it one bit, we burst into laughter.
Our manic laughter slowly starts to die down, and she’s looking at me, and I am half-looking at her, given the eye situation.
But then, I reach forward, wrapping a finger around a belt loop on her cutoffs and tug her toward me. Without thinking too hard about it, I press my mouth to hers, and she wraps her arms around my shoulders, her body flush against mine.
And the last few minutes simply fade into the background, because I finally got to kiss the woman of my dreams.
Dammit if she doesn’t live up to the hype.
I press her against the bars, vaguely realizing we could have had our first kiss anywhere but here, but something about it feels right.
She moans softly against me and opens her mouth, letting me in, and I moan at the contact of our tongues.
