Each thump of my cleats in the dirt pushes me further, and I drive into first, hitting the base hard as I turn, pushing on to second. I barely make it before the ball hits the second baseman’s glove with a heavy thud.
What an arm on that outfielder. He’s almost as quick as Jensen.
I glance up at Indy again without meaning to, a bad habit quickly forming. But I can’t help it. She’shere.
My chest tightens when she catches me looking and smiles at me. Lifting her hand, she gives a small, subtle wave. All I can think about is how badly I want this game to end so I can take her to my family’s ranch and finally have some time with her.
She has no idea I’m surprising her by going out there tonight, and I can’t wait to see the look on her face. I should have toldher to pack a bag, but I don’t plan on either of us needing extra clothes for the next couple of days.
When we finally reach the ninth inning, I’m wound tighter than Austin’s pitching arm. I look up one more time before it starts, and she’s watching me, smiling like she’s seeing me for the first time.
And in a sense she is—she’s never seen me like this before, at least not up close. Playing a major league game, completely in my element.
I hope I’m making her proud.
I play this last inning like my life depends on it, and even though we end up losing, I feel like I’ve won.
“Hey,” Indy greets me when I step outside of the locker room wearing gray sweatpants and a plain white T-shirt, stopping when I see her leaning up against the wall under the sign that clearly says ‘Authorized Personnel Only’.
I laugh, tipping my chin at the words. “Since when are you authorized personnel, Trouble?”
Tilting her head back, she looks at the sign above her and shrugs. “Did no one tell you?”
“Tell me what?” I ask, taking a step closer to her. I’ve showered, washing away the evidence of the game I just played.
She takes a step toward me, erasing the distance between us. Winding her arms around my neck, her fingers play with the ends of my hair. “I never play by the rules.”
Indy doesn’t give me a second to think before she tightens her grip on my hair, pulls me down to her, and presses her lips against mine like she’s been waiting all night to do it.
Her kiss isn’t tentative or shy, it’s demanding as she takes what she wants from me, her body pressed against mine, letting me feel every inch of her. Splaying my hand against her lower back, I move her backward until she’s against the wall. My kneecomes to rest between her legs, perfectly aligned to press against her heat.
With a whimper, she melts against me, and my hands find her waist, keeping her firmly pressed against the concrete—againstme.
My nails dig into her soft skin, and all too soon, she pulls back just enough to break the kiss, letting our foreheads rest together.
I don’t need to see her face to know she’s smiling. I can feel it mirroring my own.
Knowing I need to rein it in, I reluctantly take a step back, sliding my hand into hers so our contact isn’t completely broken.
The night’s still young, and the sooner I get her out to the lake house, the sooner we can really, truly be alone.
“C’mon,” I say, giving her a light tug. I start to walk, bending quickly to pick up the duffle bag I left abandoned by the locker room door and toss it over my shoulder. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Where are we going?” she asks, her voice curious and full of desire. Her eyes are slightly hooded as she looks up at me, matching my pace as we weave through lingering fans.
“You’ll see,” I tease.
She bites her lip like she wants to argue with me, but instead gives my hand a squeeze.
Opening the passenger door of my truck for her, I smirk as she slides inside, still watching me with a look that’s driving me wild. I’m excited to see her reaction when she realizes where we’re going, my heart pounding harder with each passing second I let my truck warm up.
Indy has no idea where I’m taking her tonight, but she’s about to see exactly what it looks like to bemine.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
In the car, the energy between us crackles like a live wire as Gareth drives us away from Bridge Point.
Neither of us says much while quiet music hums softly through the speakers. Gareth drives with his wrist draped over the steering wheel, his arm resting on the center console, hand hanging over the edge close enough to touch my skin. Every so often, he glances over at me, as if he’s checking I’m still there.
