Time to play ball.
The first inning went quickly. Three up, three down for both sides. The second took a little longer with Oakland scoring one run and the Redrocks getting a big old goose egg. Dustin finally had a chance at bat. The series was only three games, so Dustin faced a different pitcher each game. Tonight they had a lefty on the mound. He had a changeup that could make Dustin’s mama swear.
Dustin strode to the plate. He scooped up some dirt and rubbed it between his gloves, beginning his pre-batting routine. He gripped the top of his bat, gathering pine tar on his gloves for grip, and then dug his right cleat into the dirt, at the top, right of the plate. He brought his left foot into position and loaded his swing.
“Whooo, Dustin.” Clover’s voice floated over the backstop and splashed around him. She was cheering for him. He gripped the bat tighter, wanting so hard to make contact.
The ball hit the catcher’s mitt, and the umpire called, “Strike.”
Dustin stepped out of the box and shook it off. The only pitch that mattered was the next one. He repositioned his feet and stared down the pitcher. The next pitch was low and inside, nearly shaving the hair off Dustin’s shins.
“Come on!” Clover yelled at the pitcher.
Dustin tugged on his batting helmet while a smile tugged at his lips. Normally, he didn’t hear anyone during at bat. He focused in on what he had to do, and he followed through with his swing. Clover giving the pitcher a hard time on his behalf was pretty great, though.
He lifted an eyebrow at the pitcher, daring him to put the ball over the plate. The pitcher started his windup, and Dustin saw the flick of his ring finger. Curveball. Outside corner. He made a minuscule adjustment, and the bat caught the edge of the ball—he pulled in trying to avoid a foul ball. The ball dribbled to the third baseman while Dustin sprinted for first, trying to outrun a throw. He didn’t make it and was called out.
Hehatedbeing thrown out at first. Hated handing the ball to the third baseman like that. If he’d gotten a little more loft, it would have gone behind the plate and into no-man’s-land in the corner pocket. He glanced up before jogging down the stairs to see Clover give him a sympathetic frown.
He tossed his helmet against the wall.
Chapter Nineteen
Clover kept one eye on the clock and one eye on the field. Dustin had ground out and wasn’t doing much better on the field. He’d missed a dive ball, face-planting in the dirt, and took an extra second to pop up from where he lay. His jaw was tight and his nostrils flared as he sucked in air. He was hurt but walked as if he wasn’t. Maybe he’d had the air knocked out of him.
Jane pried Clover’s hand off the armrest. “Relax.”
Clover shook out her fingers and laughed. The crowd noise sounded fake in her ears—maniacal, even. She clamped her lips shut, cutting off the sound as quickly as it had burst out. She shook her hands again in an effort to get all this crazy bubbling energy out. What she wouldn’t give for a chance to run her nerves out by running the bases.
Jane eyed her warily. “You take this game pretty seriously.”
“Yep.” Clover began pushing her cuticles back, focusing on something small to block all the big feelings building inside of her. Baseball was this force inside of her that pushed her heart to the limits and seduced her into yelling at umpires and holding her breath before a pitch.
“I take it the apology went well.”
Clover thought of the way Dustin’s hands had brushed her arms, and she shivered. This reaction was different from what baseball did to her. Her reaction to him was warm and syrupy and involved butterflies. Although both Dustin and baseball had a way of making her behave in ways she wouldn’t have before.
“Yep.” She’d thought he might kiss her last night. And she thought she might let him. And then he hadn’t. And she had driven home on a cloud. “You’ll be happy to know we left as friends.”
Maddie hadn’t been too happy about their newfound friendship when Clover updated her the next morning over Lucky Charms. She’d thrown her arms over her head and said, “Why didn’tyoukisshim?”
At the time, it seemed perfectly reasonable to drive away. Now, watching Dustin step forward in a low crouch between second and third base, wearing a uniform that made him look oh so delectable, she wondered the same thing as Maddie. Why hadn’t she kissed him good night?
The batter took his stance. He had a loose hold on the bat and wobbled it behind his head. Clover leaned forward with her elbows on her knees. She was dressed in a floor-length black maxi skirt and a white tee. A black blazer waited in the car. She’d throw that on before getting to the hotel. Wearing her work clothes to the game meant she could soak up the last drop of baseball before she had to start her shift. She had three minutes—tops.
The batter popped one up. Dustin waved off those around him, put his mitt between the ball and his face, and made the catch.
Clover released the breath she’d been holding. As Dustin jogged in, he looked her direction and touched the brim of his hat. This might be the last chance she had to communicate with him before she had to leave, so she pointed to her phone and gave him a small wave goodbye. He held up a finger, telling her to wait, and then disappeared into the dugout.
The big guy in front of her turned around to see who Dustin was talking too. A glob of mustard fell out the end of his Redrocks dog and landed on his bright red Redrocks shirt. He didn’t notice. “Who are you?” he barked.
Clover lifted her shoulders. His loud mouth had drawn more attention her direction than Dustin’s little exchange. Her face was quickly turning the color of his shirt. “Nobody.”
He turned around with a grunt.
Clover fanned her suddenly warm face. She glanced at the JumboTron to make sure her embarrassment wasn’t caught on screen. There was a couple dancing, wearing silly hats and shirts that said “35 years and counting.” Clover envied them. What a way to celebrate an anniversary, dancing like no one was watching and loving for the whole world to see. She wanted that kind of love, the kind she could count on forever.
Dustin appeared on the top step of the dugout, only his head and shoulders visible from where she sat. He pointed at her with his left hand and held a baseball in his right. She stood up, her hands outstretched, ready to put the skills she’d learned to practice.
