“And because I said so,” Dani added, her smile wide and merciless as she smoothed a star onto Bennett’s cap. “For stealing second like your life depended on it.”
The guys erupted with laughter. Bennett blushed red to the roots, muttering a thank you as if she had just knighted him.
The rest of the guys hustled in her direction, all of them smiling from ear to ear. One by one, Dani slapped stars onto their jerseys, helmets, and even a forearm or two, matching each one with some off-the-cuff praise about their gameplay. It was ridiculous and silly and exactly the kind of thing that loosened the last bit of tension out of the room.
I hung back, leaning against the wall and watching her work. It didn’t matter that half the team smelled like dirt and sweat. She hugged them all, chirped out praise that had them puffing their chests, teased just enough to keep it playful, and every one of those idiots left grinning like they’d just won the lottery. I never thought I would see the day—grown men, professional athletes who could crush a baseball into orbit,preeningunder some gold stars from Office Depot.
Dani had that effect, though—light and effortless and good—and damn, if I didn’t love watching her do her job, even if it meant waiting until the very end to get my turn.
Just so long as she left a little sunshine for me.
Every time she reached up on her toes to stick a star on someone’s cap or laughed at some half-baked grumbling, I felt the tight pull of pride in my chest. She belonged here, with this team. She was just as much a Roaster as the rest of them.
The tunnel emptied out quickly. Dani and Clarke worked their way through the line of sweat-soaked men, and one after the other, the guys ducked into the locker room, ribbing each other about which of them had earned the best star.Fucking children.They could literally turn anything into a competition.
I waited until the last pair of cleats scuffed past us before stepping forward.
“What about me?” I asked, lifting my chin.
Her brows shot up, blue streaks catching in the overhead light as she blinked at me. “What?”
“Where’s my star?”
She laughed, startled, like she wasn’t sure if I was joking. It was a fair assessment—normally, I avoided all things social media like the plague. Inevervolunteered for goofy content,neverplayed along with whatever trend the league was chasing that week, but something about tonight, about seeing her so damn alive and effortless in her element, made me want in.
Her voice softened. “You . . . want one?”
I stepped closer, close enough to smell the faint trace of her new favorite lotion—the one I had given her in one of my many care packages—under the tang of rosin and pine tar lingering in the air.
“I think I earned it.”
Her eyes searched mine and a smile broke out across her face. Slowly and much more deliberately than the rest, she peeled another gold star from the sheet and pressed it to my chest, just above the team logo.
“There,” she said quietly. “For not losing your mind in the ninth when the bases were loaded.”
My hand covered hers before she could pull away. Her cheeks flushed, and for a second, the whole tunnel felt too small, too charged. I angled my head, lowering my voice just enough that Clarke, still fiddling with her phone, wouldn’t catch it.
“Am I your star, kitten?”
“Of course,” she murmured, voice light enough to sound like she was joking. “Brightest one on the team, no contest.”
I smirked, ready to take the compliment and run with it, but then she leaned in, her breath brushing the shell of my ear.
“And don’t tell anyone,” she whispered, the sweetness in her tone curling into heat. “But nobody wears those baseball pants better than you.”
My pulse spiked. I had the sudden urge to back her up against the wall and kiss the ever-loving shit out of her until neither of us could breathe. Then Clarke cleared her throat pointedly.
“I hate to interrupt, but we’ve got to upload this before the algorithm forgets we exist.”
Dani snorted, pulling her hand back, but not before I caught the quick flicker of promise in her gaze. The kind that said we would finish this business at a later date.
I let her walk ahead, watching the swing of her hair, the star sheet still clutched in her hand. She thought she’d gotten the last word, but no—tonight, in every way that mattered, I’d already won.
I was her star.
Dani
Roasters 41–25
