Her glare could strip paint off the fence. Worth it.
I tap my bat on either side of the plate and settle into my stance. This is just a rec league game, but something about her voice, her taunts, hits that deep, competitive nerve.
The pitcher, a former USC teammate, winds up and throws.
I swing hard.
And miss completely.
“Strike one, Senator!” Jess yells from behind the fence, using the nickname she knows I despise.
The next three pitches are low, and then I take another swing and miss. I’m either getting walked or striking out if I can’t hit this last pitch.
“Hey, batter, batter, batter! Sa-wing batter!” Jess calls out, channeling her inner Ferris Bueller. “He’s got a pocketful of kryptonite!”
I don’t know if it’s her heckling or my dysfunctional need to prove her wrong, but something shifts in my focus. The next pitch seems to move in slow motion. I connect with the ball perfectly, and the vibration travels up my arms as the ball soars toward the outfield and clears the fence with room to spare.
Home run.
As I round the bases, I catch Jess staring at the ball’s trajectory, her mouth slightly open. When I reach third base, I give her an exaggerated wink.
“Close your mouth, wife. You can congratulate me later.”
“Pig!” she shouts, but there’s a reluctant smile tugging at her lips.
And just like that, I’m relaxed and enjoying myself for the first time since Vegas.
“What’s that smile for?” Alex asks when I return to the dugout.
“What? I can’t be happy about a home run?”
“Sure, except you didn’t start smiling until you rounded third,” he points out, his eyebrows raised.
“Whatever. Don’t you have a script to read or something?”
“I don’t think you’re going to have any issues convincing your family this is all real,” he says, nodding toward Jess, who’s now chatting with Austin.
“Well, if everything goes well, I may not even have to introduce them to her at all. We’re only doing this for six months. I can avoid my family for that long.”
“You do realize that you’ll have to bring her to the Carmichael Foundation Gala this summer?” Alex says,checking his phone calendar. “No doubt, your mother already has your tux dry-cleaned and your name on the program.”
Fuck. He’s right. How did I forget about this? Oh yeah, I was busy getting accidentally married.
After the game, which the Spin Doctors won five to three, thank you very much, I find Jess waiting by my car, scrolling through her phone.
“Nice swing,” she admits. “Austin says I might be your good luck charm, since this is the first game of yours I’ve ever watched and you won.”
“Is that why you showed up? To provide a public service?”
“That and we should talk about tomorrow. Dylan texted again, and he wants to shoot at your place. Something about better natural light for the cameras.”
“Of course he does.” I give her a look. “And this couldn’t have been a phone call?”
She shrugs. “I was meeting Blair for lunch nearby anyway. Figured I’d stop by and see if the rumors about your baseball skills were exaggerated.” A smile plays at the corner of her mouth. “Turns out, they were only slightly exaggerated.”
I laugh. “Well, since you’re here, want to grab dinner and sort out the details?”
“Is Lucas Carmichael asking me on a date?” she teases, pressing a hand to her chest in mock shock.
