“Big baby,” I mumble. Talia would be up my ass if she knew how much I still love to give her fiancé shit. It’s just too easy, and old habits die hard.
Before he went behind my back and fell in love with my sister, I had vowed to hate him for all eternity. While it’s not always easy between us, we’re getting there. The fucker has grown on me like a fungus. I don’t hate him. Anymore.
Cam’s just too damn nice to hate. Don’t get me wrong, he’s still a cocky dick sometimes, but the way he looks at Talia—like she’s an angel sent from heaven—has earned my respect.
I like that we’ve gotten to a place where our good-natured ribbing is just that—fun. Just because he’s going to be my brother-in-law doesn’t mean he gets a free pass to be my buddy.
Cam might think my sister shits rainbows, and has her name tattooed on his chest to prove his commitment, but he’s not out of the woods yet. Have to keep him on his toes, you know?
I do a couple more spinal rotations as I watch our first baseman, Lance Taylor, hit a few more balls from the tee. His stance is solid. Full weight on his back leg as he steps through. His swing is perfect.
“Looking good, Cap.”
Lance groans. “Not you too, Romero.”
“Don’t act like you don’t like it. You’re ourcapitán,” Cam says beside me in a Spanish accent. We chuckle at Lance’s frowning face.
“Whatever, dickhead. Concentrate on where you’re throwing that ball, or I’ll make your ass run laps.” Lance’s threat falls on deaf ears.
“Happy to.” Cam blows a kiss and wiggles his eyebrows at Lance, making me laugh. Everyone on the team knows Cam’s the Energizer bunny. That guy can run for days without breaking a sweat.
I move onto dry swings as Lance grabs his bat and gear, clearing the space for me to step in. I’m the number four hitter in the rotation, which means my job is to clean the bases. I take my job seriously. My record proves it. Last season I led the league withfifty-six home runs, and this year my goal is sixty.
Blake Jensen, who plays third base, steps up to the netting behind me and hooks his fingers through the holes. “Yo, Nico. Reed tells me you’re coming to Cam’s bachelor party. Is that wise?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” I exhale and smack the ball off the tee a little more aggressively than I should.
I don’t want to go, but my sister is making me. She thinks it will be good for me to hang out with Cam and his friends. They are a decent group of guys. Even Cam. Just don’t tell my sister I said that.
“Maybe because he’s planning it, and that means strippers.” Theduhimplied in Blake’s tone makes me want to use his ass as my next ball.
Everyone knows that Reed McKay, our shortstop—and Cam’s closest friend—is the biggest manwhore on the planet. Not that I’m judging. I’m no fucking saint. But I’m damaged as fuck. It’s par for the course when your father pulls a Houdini in the middle of the night. I don’t know what McKay’s deal is, but I’m not the prying type. I mind my own fucking business.
“And Talia will have strippers too,” Cam interjects, shocking me.
“The fuck?” I drop the bat, and it clatters to the floor as I grill Cam with my stare. Lance and Blake burst out laughing. I point at Cam and glare. “Talk.”
“Not my fault Talia didn’t tell you about it,Dad.” His dig rings true. I practically raised my little sister.
Which is why I glower. “Strippers? What the fuck, Miller?”
“Chill, Nico. I want her to have the full experience. She has spent most of her life at school or at the hospital. She needs to let loose. Go a little crazy for one night. I trust her to have fun and come home to me.”
See? That’s what I’m talking about. It makes me respect the fuck out of him.
Fucking bastard.
“I still don’t like it,” I grump.
That’s my baby sister, and the idea of her—and most likely my cousins—getting sweaty dicks pressed into their faces makes me want to punch said dicks.
“Hey, you bunch of hens. Quit clucking and get back to work,” Coach Anson shouts as he claps his hands. He glares at us from across the room. If looks could kill, we’d be dead.
Anson is an amazing manager. As a retired Hall of Fame baseball player, he knows about the hard work that goes into making it to the end, and he pushes us to be our best every time we step into the locker room.
“Well? What the fuck are you waiting for? Get your asses moving.”
I see past our Tom Selleck-looking manager’s scowl when his bushy-ass mustache twitches. He looks all too happy that I’mgetting along with everyone on the team. To say I had a rough start with the Evaders last season is an understatement.
