Pitch Please(2)

By: Lani Lynn Vale

Gentry took the paint and followed suit, only he did his left first, then the right.

It was always like that.

Baseball was a superstitious game. It was rare that we ever deviated from our routine.

“Why’s she not their AT, then?” I asked.

Gentry shook his head and tossed the paint down into the stack of shit on the ground underneath his seat.

“Not a fucking clue. Girl’s hot, though. I love that she’s our athletic trainer.”

I agreed with that. One hundred and sixty-nine percent.

She was thick and curvy, in all the right places, and I wanted to wrap my arms around her and kiss the hell out of her.

Crazy enough, I didn’t think she’d be receptive to that.

Not yet, anyway.

She had on a Longview Lumberjacks team shirt, the tight khaki shorts that all the trainers wore, and a fucking ribbon in her hair.

She looked like my high school wet dream come true.

“You ready to warm up?” Gentry asked.

I nodded my head and started up the steps of the dugout, picking my bat up along the way.

I hefted it in my hands, tightening my grip around the wood, and breathed deeply.

“You first,” Gentry nodded his head.

I walked ahead of him to the plate, nodding at the coach.

The coach nodded back, and I took my place at the plate.

Once I was there, I dropped the bat onto the plate so it rested against my thigh, put my gloves on, and pulled my pants up above my calves.


All of it routine.

Once everything was perfectly in place, I fixed my hat, picked my bat up, tapped it six times on the plate, and lifted it to my shoulder.

Chapter 2

If you keep a baseball bat in your car, also be sure to keep a glove. Your lawyer will thank you.

-Word to the wise


Rainie (7:02 PM): This baseball game sucks. There’s absolutely no cock sucking or pussy licking going on at all on third base.

I nearly choked when I read that message from my best friend.

Sway (7:02 PM): Why are you here again? And the game hasn’t started, how do you know it sucks?

I looked up when I felt eyes on me, and nearly dropped my phone when I saw the bearded man who’d practically barked at me earlier staring me down. He’d just finished hitting, and I wasn’t even aware he was back.

For such a big guy, he moved like a freakin’ ninja.

His intense gray eyes, rimmed with beautifully long, dark eyelashes had me nearly choking on my tongue.

Why was he looking at me?

And oh, God. His beard was amazing.

Pairing that beard with those eyes, and the green hat pulled down low over his head—breathtaking.

That was before you even took in the rest of his body.

The man was covered in tattoos.

Not that you would be able to tell.

He didn’t allow them to show for the first couple of games. As of right now, they were covered up with a long sleeved Under Armour compression shirt that fit him like a second skin.

Covering his tats was one of his superstitions—and it made me want to cry.

I loved his tattoos.

I wanted to lick every single one of them.

I had a Fathead sticker of him on my wall at home.

He was literally my favorite player on the Longview Lumberjacks, and would be in the entire league had my brother not played in the MLB as well. Though, it was a near toss-up.

I’d have a tough call today seeing as the Lumberjacks were playing his team

My brother was the short stop for the other team, and I loved him like crazy. But the Longview Lumberjacks–they were my team. Had been my team since I was old enough to sit in front of the TV with my dad and watch them play.

I think it’d broken my dad’s heart a little bit when my brother had signed with the Sparks, but he was proud, nonetheless.

Parts took his hat off, readjusted it, and then put it back on. Five times.

Just like he always did.

I bit my lip and turned my head away, unable to look at that thick, dark hair and not orgasm.

It was beautiful, too.

I’d always had a thing for the tall, dark and dangerous look.

Bearded, tall, dark and dangerous…well…that was just my personal kryptonite.

My phone buzzed in my hands again, and I jumped.

Ember (7:22 PM): OMG! I can see you! Wave!

I looked up, startled, and glanced around. Then, for the second time, I dropped my goddamned book on the ground, exposing the stupid Baseball for Dummies to the world.

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