Violet giggles and waves me off. “Don’t worry, Coach. The three of us managed warm-ups just fine, so we’re all ready to go. We were just waiting for you to get here so we can start.”
“You guys are rock stars.” I grin at the three of them and don’t miss how they flush at my praise. They’re all really good kids and deserve to know how great they are. It’s one of the best feelings in the world, getting these wounded and scared kids totrust me over time. Turning to Lark, I ask, “You good here, Lark? I need to go meet the other coach on home plate for a sec.”
She gives me a slightly nervous smile before squaring her shoulders and nodding. “I’m good. Go do your thing, Colt.”
I resist the urge to pull her into my arms and drop a kiss on her forehead to reassure her. We’re not at that point yet, so I settle for reassuringly squeezing her arm.
Jogging out onto the field, I head over to Jones and the other coach, Meyers. He’s one of the good coaches who genuinely cares about his players.
Some of the other coaches get way too into Little League baseball and view winning as more important than the kids having fun and learning. I do my best to avoid playing against those teams, so it’s always nice to see that we’re playing against Meyers or similar coaches.
“Davenport, good to see you.” Meyers offers me his palm and gives me a warm handshake. “What’s it been, six months or so since we played last?”
“Good to see you too, Meyers. Yep, I think a little less than that since we last played in April.”
“Enough with the chitchat,” Jones grouses. The referee is in a perpetually sour mood. Even if I were on time, he’d still be like this. But he’s a damn good ref who cares about the kids, so I let his attitude slide. “Give me your rosters, and let’s go over the rules.”
We finish the pregame meeting in less than five minutes. With a last wave to Meyers, I jog back over to the dugout, hoping the kids haven’t overwhelmed Lark too much.
I can’t help my smile when I find the kids crowded around Lark. All of them are trying to talk to her at once, and she’s doing her best to pay attention to all fifteen of them. I can tell she’s a little overwhelmed by all the attention, though.
I clap my hands to get everyone’s attention. “All right, team. We’re up to bat first, so find your batting order and get ready for your turn.” As I’m talking, the kids form a semicircle around me. When I’m done giving instructions, I stick my hand out, and they slap their hands in a messy pile on top of mine. “On three. One, two, three! Go, Space Cowboys!”
The kids shout along with me before dispersing to look at the roster and get their bats and helmets.
Lark snorts at the team name, and I grin at her as I step into her space. When I rest one of my hands on her hip, she gasps and arches into me slightly. I have to hold in a growl and try to focus on anything other than how she reacts to me.
It takes a long moment to get myself under control. “I’m gonna be out by first base. You good in the dugout by yourself?”
“Yep,” she squeaks as she steps out of my hold. Running a hand over her chestnut hair, she blows out a breath. “I’m all good here. No need to worry about me.”
Dipping my chin, I give her what I hope is a reassuring smile. “Awesome. Thanks again for helping out today.”
Spinning on my heel, I stalk out of the dugout before I do something I’ll regret. Like slam her against the chain-link and ravage her mouth.
“No problem,” she mumbles.
Even standing by first base, I don’t have any problem hearing her or the other kids. Out of the corner of my eye, I see one of the girls approach her.
“Your hair is so pretty,” Maeve whispers to Lark.
The little redheaded blue-eyed girl only started playing with our team a month or so ago. She’s still soft-spoken and shy, but I’ve already seen her open up to some of the older girls on the team. At ten, she’s one of the younger players, but she’s fitting in well.
Lark crouches down to be eye level with her. “Thank you. My hair has been thrown up in braids so much lately, I hardly remember what it looks like down.”
“My mama used to braid my hair for school every day.” Maeve’s lower lip wobbles as she looks at the ground. “Papa’s trying to learn, but he’s still not very good at it.”
Lark looks like her heart is breaking for the little girl for just a moment, but then she plasters an encouraging smile on her face.
“I could braid your hair for you, if you’d like? I’m sure it won’t be as good as your mama’s, but I can do all sorts of braids—fishtail, French, Dutch, crown, and pretty much whatever you want.” Maeve grins at Lark and bobs her head so vigorously, I’m worried she’s going to hurt herself. Lark smiles down at her. “Do we have time right now? Or will you be up to bat soon?”
“Since I’m new to the team, I’m the last on the roster. I won’t be up to bat for a while. The older kids are really good at batting, so there should be time.”
Lark grins at her before pushing to her feet. She offers Maeve her hand and walks them both over to the bench. Once Maeve’s sitting next to her, Lark digs in her backpack for something. Then, she starts combing her fingers through Maeve’s wavy hair.
“What kinda braid do you want?”
“A crown braid, like a princess,” Maeve replies enthusiastically.
