Dustin glanced up to see Clover watching, and winked. The effect was a total dry-out of Clover’s mouth. For the tiniest second, she agreed with the photographer—a man, especially one put together like Dustin, was hot in the kitchen.
The sizzle of ground beef yanked her out of her hormone-induced stupor, and she ran back to the stove where she did her best to ignore Mr. Baseball and his photo op until he finally left and she could relax. Being near him had her on edge.
She fanned her overheated face, thanking the heavens that encounter was over and hoping she’d never have to see him again.
Chapter Six
Dustin threw himself onto his stomach and blinked dirt. He heard the ball hit the second baseman’s glove and felt it come down on his forearms. His hands were firmly planted on the base.
“Safe!” called the second-base umpire.
Grinning, Dustin called time and hopped to his feet, brushing the red dirt off the front of his white uniform.Sweet! Two doubles and a single. I’m back on my game.He’d already been around the bases a couple times, earning two of the four runs on the board. Not too bad for the guy batting ninth in the lineup.
“That’s right, Gary. You’re sitting out another game.” He grinned, thriving on the competition with his teammate.
The Phillies’ pitcher waited for the sign from the catcher. The game was back on. Clapping his hands, Dustin sidestepped to the right and took his lead. Third base was empty and calling his name. They had an out to give, but he wanted a run, so he was careful.
Juan Castillo cracked off the first shot to left field. It was almost to the stands. Dustin wasn’t watching the ball; he was watching the third-base coach, who was swinging his arm like a windmill, sending Dustin home. The crowd cheered as Dustin’s size-eleven cleat smacked the plate.
He bumped fists and took smacks on the back. Andre Murphy rubbed Dustin’s bare cheeks and laughed. “You should have shaved two weeks ago, bro.”
Dustin shoved him off with a laugh and found his spot on the bench next to Brayden. They bumped elbows and then fists.
“Nice.” Brayden fanned Dustin like he was too hot. Brayden had pitched the first six innings and was cooling his heels in the dugout, watching the relief pitchers do their job.
Dustin laughed. “You know it.”
“What did you eat for lunch? Cuz I gotta get me some.”
Dustin shook his head, thinking of his crazy afternoon arguing with Clover. Learning her real name had been the only good thing to come out of their conversation. She’d been … prickly. “I had a PB&J at the soup kitchen.”
“You what?” Brayden screwed up his face for a second, and then he brightened. “Was the hot chick there?”
The batboy offered Dustin a water bottle, and he accepted it, downing half the liquid in an effort to get the taste of dirt out of his mouth before he answered Brayden. “First off, she’s not that hot. Second, she insulted pretty much the team and the MLB, and then she ignored me.”
Mattock struck out and cursed loud enough for the fans on the tenth row to hear. Tugging his hat down, he slunk back to the dugout. They still had one out to go and a guy on second. Dustin squelched the urge to reach for his mitt. He wasn’t going to curse Travis’s at bat by forecasting an out. For all he knew, Travis would be the first of seven hits, and he’d be up again this inning. If not, the game would be over, and they’d start the postgame circus of interviews.
“What’d she say?” asked Dustin.
“She called us eternal children who didn’t want to grow up.”
Brayden leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. He took a moment to spit a mouthful of sunflower seed shells on the ground. “I take it you didn’t apologize for the other night.”
“Why should I apologize?”
“You embarrassed her.”
Dustin remembered the way color had spread across her cheeks. She’d been pretty in the black dress with legs that went on forever, but when her cheeks colored, she was breathtaking. She’d certainly stolen his breath away. So much so that he’d almost forgotten about the food he’d ordered and would have asked her to dance if Brayden hadn’t stepped in and introduced them.
The more he thought about her in the black dress, the less focused he felt. His hands grew moist, and he wiped them on his pants. “Change of subject.”
“Fine. You owe her.”
Dustin sputtered. “Do not.”
“She got you to shave, and you’ve hit better tonight than you have in a month.”
“Yep,” said the hitting coach from his spot by the bat stand.
