Dustin shoveled in the fresh sushi, grateful for the protein boost. The clubhouse manager could bring in any type of food he wanted. In the minor leagues, that usually meant a roast beef sandwich with chips and a veggie tray. In the majors, the managers went all out. Tonight, Bobby had brought in a chef to make sushi and another to make on-order stir-fry. There were large platters of rice and steamed veggies and orange chicken and beef kept warm over low flames.
As good as the food tasted, the loss sat heavy in his mind. They needed to find a way to start winning games. His error at short hadn’t done them any good, and he wasn’t much help at the plate this game either. He did his best not to look at the man who would take his spot in a heartbeat, sitting two tables over with the pitchers. The guy was a constant reminder that Dustin’s time in the MLB could be over in one batting slump. Clover had said something about him being in the top five percent of players who are drafted and an even smaller percentage of those who are called up. Sure, beating those odds was great, but staying on top was just as much of a struggle.
He kept his phone in his back pocket, on vibrate, so he wouldn’t miss Clover’s text. The whole phone number thing on a ball was a stroke of pure genius, if he did say so himself. The simple reminder of the time they’d spent the night before on the golf course was definitely flirting. He’d crossed that line knowing full well he couldn’t retreat. Didn’t want to. Clover was different from the other women he’d dated semi-seriously—not that there were many. She had a way of looking at things with big, bright eyes as if she were taking them in for the first time, and it was attractive in a way that the sultry, sophisticated women he met at the clubs or parties couldn’t match even if they tried.
He touched his back pocket to make sure his phone was still there. Having the phone wasn’t a big deal after the game. Before the game, a guy would get chewed out for keeping his phone on him. Baseball was serious business.
“Hey.” He nodded as Brayden and Blake took seats. “How’s it going, Blake?” Blake was dating the new PT, a redhead with a deep knowledge of the game. Their romance had been quite the scandal considering the teams “no dating staff” policy. Coach Wolfe had suspended the rule after Blake hit a triple for Elise that won the game. He’d proven Elise wasn’t a distraction but a motivation for him.
Wolfe was probably waiting for Dustin to figure things out and prove Clover wasn’t a distraction to his game. He didn’t want her to be—had played better for a while when they first met. That was before things turned playful between them, and tonight his performance was dismal.
Blake broke apart the disposable chopsticks. “Fan-stinking-tastic.” He grinned before popping a sunshine roll in his mouth and chewing fast. “Elise got clearance to go on the road with us this weekend. I am stoked.”
Juan sat down, his plate piled high with orange chicken and rice. This meal was a favorite for the whole team, but Juan especially. Bobby was going to get some big tips tonight. “You going to take her out while we’re there?” asked Juan.
The team had more downtime when they were on the road because they weren’t trying to spend every spare minute with their families or girlfriends. They rarely did the tourist stuff, mostly sticking to the hotel and nearby restaurants and movie theaters.
“She’s never been to D.C. We’re going to hit all the sights,” replied Blake.
“You are so whipped.” Juan guffawed. Dustin and Brayden exchanged an amused glance. Juan was a big personality—even if he was one of the smallest guys on the team. He was literally always smiling and had bright white teeth that stood out against his darker skin. He’d been through some hard times when his wife broke his heart and left him with three little girls to take care of on his own. He kept pushing on, doting on his daughters and playing ball.
“You are so jealous,” countered Blake. When Elise had first started, Juan had flirted with her to spur Blake into a bit of jealousy—enough to light a fire under the guy and make him ask Elise out. The guys knew it was for show, but Blake had taken it personally.
“Hey, she had her chance at all this.” He motioned his hand down his body. “And she picked you—there’s no accounting for taste.”
Blake glared at Juan, who laughed. “I’m messing with you, man. Elise was yours from day one.”
“Don’t you forget it.” Blake speared a piece of orange chicken.
They continued to give each other a hard time. Brayden laughed, pushing a few buttons when he got the chance.
Dustin’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He whipped it out like a gunslinger had yelled, “Draw!”
Hi. It’s Clover.
He grinned down at his phone until he noticed the good-natured ribbing had gone silent. He reluctantly brought his chin up and looked around the table. All three guys stared at him, their faces full of expectation.
“Is that the ball girl?” asked Juan. “She was tight, man.”
Blake shoved Juan. “Will you find your own woman?”
“Hey, I got three beautiful ladies to take care of. I don’t need the drama of another one.” Juan was talking about his daughters. He was a family man through and through. “But that doesn’t mean my satellite turned off, ya know?” He tossed sushi in the air, tipped his head back, and caught it in his mouth. “Ta-da,” he said around the seaweed, rice, and crab.
Dustin scratched his head. He tuned out the guys and went back to his text, trying to figure out the best way to play this.Who?he teased.
The three dots waved, indicating Clover was typing back. She sent him a picture of the ball.I caught the ball!
Just call me Coach.
What’s next, Coach? Batting cages?
Dustin would love to take her to the cages. What a great opportunity to wrap his arms around a beautiful woman as he showed her how to hold a bat. He couldn’t take her to the cages where he and the guys practiced. She’d come out broken. But St. George was a baseball town—there had to be soft-toss machines somewhere.
As soon as I get back in town.
When do you leave?
Tomorrow morning.
