Cleat Catcher (The Cleat Chaser Duet Book 2) (18 page)

“Is that a mantra?” I crunched through the popcorn as the relief pitcher for the Marlins threw a few warmup pitches.

“Words to live by.” Kasey smiled and took a gulp of beer.

“I read your article on Cyrano this morning, by the way.” Kyrie brushed some stray kernels off her Easton Holliday jersey. “I loved it.”

“Loved it?” I couldn’t hold back my grin.

“No doubt. It’s your best work yet. I may have even set up a meeting with Graciela about you—”

I gasped. “Really?” Was she going to push for me to move up to an editor spot?

“But don’t get your hopes up.” She squeezed my arm. “It’s tough to make the leap. It may take more time and articles from you, but I want to broach the subject sooner rather than later and take her temperature.”

Excitement welled inside me and I grabbed Kyrie in a messy, popcorn-y embrace. “Thank you!”

“This is more like it.” Kasey pressed herself against my back and reached around to catch both Kyrie and me in her arms.

“You’re welcome.” Kyrie squeezed me a little tighter. “I’ll let you know what comes of it.”

“I love being just one of the girls.” Kasey nuzzled into my hair.

“Perv.” I elbowed Kasey away and settled back into my seat.

Kasey frowned, but then her expression lightened. “Say, Nik, you never gave me all the details from the lez experience you had in college. This game is boring as fuck. Entertain me with it.”

“It wasn’t really an experience. I just kissed a girl a little bit when I was drunk.” I shrugged as the first Ravens batter, Ramirez, strode to the plate.

“Not bad.” Kasey crossed her long, tan legs at the knee.

The guy sitting next to her gave her an appreciative up and down look, but her head was turned towards me so she didn’t see it.

“How much tongue are we talking?”

I closed my eyes and tried to remember the fall of my sophomore year, but it was hazy at best. I had way too much fun in school. “I think there was tongue, and she definitely felt me up over my shirt. I can’t remember if she ever went under, but I doubt it.”

“Nice.” Kasey set her beer down. “I think I need a reenactment. You know, to test you. Make sure you’re not running a game on Braden,
pretending
to be straight.”

I rolled my eyes as Ramirez swung and missed, strike one. “Not a chance. Besides, everyone knows I’m a Penis Flytrap.”

“Come on, just a little kiss.” She leaned closer as Kyrie snickered on my other side.

“No way.” I shook my head. “Braden would kill me.”

“I think Braden would be all about it. Just a couple of girls. One, his girlfriend, the other, like a sister to him. No harm in the two of us being friendly. Right, Kyrie?”

“Don’t drag me into this. I’m an innocent bystander.” She grabbed some more popcorn as Kasey’s confident grin surfaced.

I tried to ignore the hot blonde trying to get into my panties. The next pitch was high and outside. Ball.

“Just a little experiment. That’s all.” Kasey’s tone turned wheedling. “It won’t count.”

“How many girls have you tricked into opening their legs for you like this?” I stared at her, not even close to falling under her spell.

She frowned. “Tons. What gives with you?”

“I love Braden.”

“Me too.” She moved closer, her big, pretty eyes open wide like the wolf’s in Red Riding Hood. “So how about you give me a little tit action as a sign of our love for him.”

Kyrie snorted.

“A little help here?” I turned to her.

“Nope.” She shook her head, a giggle falling from her lips. “I don’t get between Kasey and her prey.”

“Come on.” Kasey wrapped a lock of my hair around her finger.

I tried to keep the amused smile off my lips. “I’m trying to watch the game.”

Ramirez finally made contact, hitting a line drive and trucking it to first base.

Kasey didn’t even look. She kept her gaze on me.

I sighed. “Oh my God. If I say yes, will you leave me alone?”

She squealed. “Yes, I promise.”

“Fine, you can have a tit grope.” I’d taken many a tit grope from Kyrie, so this was nothing special.

She reached for the hem of my tank top.

“Hey!” I smacked her hand away. “
Over
my shirt and for no more than five seconds.”

“That’s it?” she pouted.

I tossed my hair behind my shoulder. “It’s that or nothing, you goddamn sexual predator.”

She smiled and licked her lips before focusing on my chest. “Fine.”

“Get to it.” I leaned back and dropped my elbows to the armrest, giving her maximum chest exposure.

She rubbed her hands together like she was Mr. Miyagi readying to fix Daniel-San’s leg. The guy sitting on her other side couldn’t take his eyes off us. I wondered if he was going to cream in his jeans.

“Here we go.” She hovered her hands over my chest as Kyrie shook with laughter next to me. “Luscious Nikki tits in three, two, one.”

“Hey!” Braden’s voice cut through the air.

I looked up and Kasey and I were on the kiss cam for the entire stadium to see.

“Kase!” I leaned forward, but that only pressed her palms to my tits.

The crowd went silent, and Kasey took the opportunity to give me a good squeeze. I smacked her hands away as the crowd went from silent to roaring with approval. I hid my scarlet face in my hands.

“Goddammit Kasey!” Braden was at the net yelling. “I’m going to kick your ass!”

I peeked through my fingers as a grinning Easton strode up behind him. “Come on, man. They’re just dicking around.”

“Kasey is a woman-stealer. She’s the devil!” He pointed a finger through the netting at Kasey, who was doubled over with laughter.

“I’m sorry.” I shook my head, my hands still covering my face.

“It’s not your fault. It’s the blonde Satan sitting next to you!” The corner of his mouth twitched. He was holding back a smile.

“You boys going to play ball or what?” The umpire walked up behind Easton.

“We are.” Easton pulled Braden away from the net and forced him to turn back toward the field. He shot Kasey a hard look. “Lay off, dick. We’re trying to do work out here.”

“My bad.” Kasey sat up and wiped the tears from under her eyes. “But Jeez, bro, they are just so soft, yet firm!”

Braden tried to turn, but Easton kept him moving toward home plate.

“Sorry!” I called again.

Braden looked over his shoulder, pointed two fingers at his eyes and the same fingers at Kasey. She chuckled as he took his bat from the batboy and did a few practice swings. After one more glare at Kasey, he stepped into the batter’s box.

The embarrassment of being felt up on the kiss-cam faded, and worry took its place. My stomach churned at the thought of Braden having to run full-speed to first base. He’d been covering his limp for the entire game, but I knew he was in pain.

“Maybe you should have waited to pull your devilry until after Braden’s turn at-bat.” Kyrie slurped her Icee.

“Don’t go pretending like I haven’t gotten a handful of
your
lovely lady lumps.” Kasey wore a self-satisfied grin before downing the rest of her beer.

“What?” I gaped at Kyrie. “Why’d you let her get me, too?”

She shrugged. “I thought maybe you’d have a chance of staying strong.”

“Against
my
lezzy wiles? Pfft. Give me a break.” Kasey stood. “I’ve got to take a leak. You girls try and keep it classy while I’m gone.”

Everything else faded as I focused on Braden and prayed his knee injury wouldn’t affect anything during his at-bat. A walk would be the best outcome, but not likely. His numbers weren’t great, and the pitcher would try and take full advantage of that fact. I didn’t want him to strike out, but running to first base could have been even more treacherous for him.

I perched on the edge of my seat as the pitcher came set. The first pitch was outside and low. Ball. The second pitch was the same. Ball. Small tendrils of relief swirled inside me with each call.

My fingers wrestled with each other as the third pitch came screaming down the middle. Strike.

Braden stood straight and knocked the bat against his shoes before taking position again. Another pitch, this one high and inside. Ball. He hadn’t swung the bat once.

“How’s his knee?” Kyrie’s whisper barely made it to my ear.

“I don’t know. Not good.” I kept my voice low as the next pitch slapped into the catcher’s glove. Strike.

The count was full. The next pitch would result in a walk, a strike-out, or a hit. The crowd quieted as Braden stepped to the plate again.

I held my breath as the pitcher came set. His powerful leg kick seemed to happen in slow motion. The ball hurtled toward home plate, and Braden swung.

The crack of the bat had me searching the sky for the ball. It flew out over the short stop’s head. I dragged my gaze back to Braden who had taken off for first base. He came down heavy on his uninjured leg, his stride uneven.

Kyrie took my hand and squeezed it.

“Can you tell?” I winced as he continued his awkward gait.

The ball dropped in left field and was quickly scooped up by an outfielder who tossed it in to second base. Braden barely rounded first at all and quickly took a few steps back to the base. He’d gotten a single, but I prayed that management hadn’t been able to tell he was injured.

Kyrie hadn’t answered my question.

I squeezed her hand. “Tell me. Did you see it?”

She withdrew her hand and threw her arm around my shoulder, pulling me in close. “Yeah. I could tell. I’m sorry.”

My fingers went cold and I felt the blood drain from my face. If Kyrie could see it, that meant everyone else—including the team management—could, too.

B
RADEN

I
STOOD ON
first base, and the throb in my knee was constant. I knew I’d done more damage running out that base hit.
Fuck.

“Braden!”

I caught Coach’s glare in the corner of my eye. He leaned over the railing separating the dugout from the field. His eyes were sharp and insistent. I quickly shook my head in his direction, trying not to draw any added attention from people in the front office who may have been watching. Coach shoved off the rail and stalked back and forth in the dugout.

As the pitcher came set, I took my lead from first. My eyes were trained on his feet. I was pretty sure everyone in the stadium had seen me hobble, but I pretended nothing was wrong. The pitcher flashed me a grin and spun quickly with a pick off move.

When I pushed off on my leg, I let out an audible groan before I dove back into the bag and barely beat the tag. My jaw clenched, and I grunted under my breath. I rose back to my feet and brushed the dirt from the front of my jersey.

The first baseman tossed the ball back to the pitcher, and the pitcher took to the mound once more. This time I barely took a lead at all, remaining close enough to first that I wouldn’t have to dive back. The pitcher came set before kicking his leg and firing a fastball. Crack.

A sharp groundball screamed toward the second baseman, and he quickly tossed it to the shortstop as Ramirez sprinted toward home. I froze in the base path. They had turned a double play, but Ramirez trotted across home plate scoring another run for us. I walked back to the dugout barely able to hide my limp.

Once I was down the stairs, Coach was up in my face. “You’re not going back out there.”

“Bullshit.” I tried to move past him and his large hand whacked me in the chest.

“You’re done until you see a doctor.” His brows pinched together, and he scowled, but I could sense concern in his eyes.

I dropped my head and stared at the ground for a quick second before looking back up at him. “I can’t come out of the game. You know I can’t.”

“Son—” he placed a hand on my shoulder, “—you can’t play like this. I’m sorry. You’re not fooling anyone up there anymore.” He lifted his head back toward the skybox where all the rich fucks sat to watch the game. “Trust me. They know.”

I wanted to break down, but I couldn’t let the guys see me defeated. “Okay.”

Coach leaned up next to my ear. “There are more ways to be a leader than being on the field. I’ll figure out something to tell Ingram. Maybe I can buy us some time. But you need to see a doctor tomorrow. Until then, you’re not going out on that field.”

“Whatever is best for the team.” I turned to walk away, and his fingers dug into my forearm.

“You’re sick. If you see Ingram, walk straight and fake it the best you can. Got me?”

I grinned and gave a dramatic shiver. “I do feel a bit feverish.”

“I thought so.” His voice rose to where the other guys could hear him. “Probably need some antibiotics or something. There’s a bug going around. The guys will pick you up though.”

I stared around at my teammates. They all knew the score and had grins on their faces. Ramirez walked up to Coach and me. “You know, Coach. My grandma makes this little drink with whiskey and stuff. It’ll cure anything. You can put like dandelions, mint leaves,” he paused, “a little cannabis in that shit. It makes you just right as all hell the next day.” He chuckled at both of us.