Wild Pitch (Dominating the Diamond Book 1)

CHAPTER 12

“Wake up,” growls a gruff voice near my ear.

Way too close to my ear.

I sit up with a jolt, and it takes me a minute to adjust to the darkness and process where I am. A minute is all I get before the overhead lights flash on inside the bus and sear my retinas. A chorus of groans erupts; I am far from the only one blinking tears and stars from my eyes in the sudden brightness.

“Stop being a baby, rookie,” Reyes says, and the lights in my eyes are no longer the most painful thing I have to face on this bus. The nearness of that growl comes back to me, and I try not to look like a blushing deer in the headlights when I turn to look at the grumpy team captain.

“Did I fall asleep?” I ask.

“Out like a light,” he groans while reaching for his bag. “Drooling, snoring, the whole nine yards.”

“I was not.” I’m not sure if I sound more defensive or mortified.

He purses his lips at me, and I refuse to imagine how soft they are. Especially not when he looks pointedly at his shoulder and swipes his fingers over the lines of spit drying on his windbreaker. My dried spit. I think I might die for a minute. Surely, I am my own ghost floating in embarrassed horror over my body.

“Hey, at least your snoring was better in tune than the humming you promised not to do.”

“Jackass,” I say under my breath.

“Are you ever going to get off this bus, or are you trying to drool on me some more first?”

My half-asleep brain takes that innocent question all the wrong places. I don’t know what it is about Reyes, but my brain has set up residence in the gutter whenever I’m around him. I spend too long imagining more inventive ways to drool all over his muscular, golden body. He smacks my shoulder lightly with the back of his hand, and my distracted brain would love to make him pay for that.

“Seriously. This old man is way too hydrated for you to be lollygagging on the bus right now. Out of my way, rookie.”

“Lollygagging?” I latch onto anything to tease him over. Anything to bring me back to solid ground. “Who says that?”

“Not now, Ramirez,” he snaps. “Up and off. Up and off.”

The moment I’m on my feet, Reyes practically shoves me into the oncoming traffic. One glare from him is all it takes to silence the outbursts from the players I’ve just cut off, and he pushes me forward all the way until his feet hit solid ground.

“Umm, Reyes?” I ask, prompted by god only knows what to keep talking.

“Not now.”

I’d probably be more upset by the dismissal if he wasn’t already booking it for the locker room before I could even process my potential anger. Dante tries to flag him down, but Reyes is a man on a mission not stopping for anyone. Watching him wave Dante away makes me feel marginally better, confirming that his aloofness didn’t have anything to do with me. At least not this time.

Dante jogs over to walk with me instead, and I learn through plenty of laughter that I am not the only one with old man jokes. We part ways in the locker room, and I dip through my heavy door into my little oasis. I’ve only been here a week, and I know I could be traded from this team as easily as I was from the last, but this one feels like home in ways the Scorpions never did. Which, I suppose, is why I’ve already stocked my space with a few different potted plants. Peace lilies—as much because they can survive in these artificial conditions as because they’re pretty much the only plant I can keep alive.

And because I smile whenever I see them. No matter where I move, they’ll always remind me of my most serious girlfriend, Yajaira. She had a green thumb that I had envied during our long afternoons in her garden. I’d still be in my sweaty uniform, straight from practice, listening to her stories and letting her direct me to simple tasks, while she tended her plants with the utmost care and a broad smile.

I make a mental note to call her this weekend to see how the PhD program and married life are treating her and her partner. I grab my stuff in a hurry and get back into the main locker room in record time. Trying not to look awkward or overeager, I almost lose my nerve and head home four times before Reyes approaches me.

“Now or never,” I mutter to myself under my breath. “Don’t make it a big deal; we’re just teammates. Teammates eat dinner, especially when we’re celebrating.”

“Talking to yourself again, rookie?” Reyes asks, and Dante laughs his good-natured bellow beside him.

“Just wondering if you want to grab a bite?” My voice goes way too high-pitched on the last syllable, and if I were being honest with myself, that’s all the sign I need to know this is a bad idea. “Celebrate the win and come up with a game plan for tomorrow, you know.”

“Aww, the rookie’s right,” Dante says. “Her first away game with the team, and a win at that. The least you owe her is dinner for putting up with your cranky ass.”

“How is it,” Reyes asks, “that celebratory dinners always look a lot like me paying for everyone else?”

“Team captain perks?” Dante laughs and claps him on the back. I don’t think anyone else sees Reyes grimace—the look of pain so fleeting. “What would we be doing if we didn’t let team daddy pay for dinner?”

“Don’t you ever say that again.” Reyes shudders dramatically. Dante opens his mouth with a smile in his eyes and team daddy clearly on his tongue, but Reyes raises his hand and beats him to it. “If you ever want me to pay for another team dinner or my mom to invite you and the wife over when she cooks, you’d better rethink the words in your mouth right now.”

Dante shuts his mouth, zips it with his fingers, and mimes throwing away the key. Even Reyes laughs. It’s a sound I could get used to. Full and bright, as if for a moment he’s let his guard down.

“Fine. Rookie gets to pick the place, since she took my sage advice on the mound,” Reyes says.

“She’s hardly been here! She doesn’t know where to go yet.” Dante jumps with excitement. “Crab Bite. That’s the answer.”

Reyes rolls his eyes as if he is not surprised by this choice in the slightest, and I’m reminded of Dante’s very first conversation with me. He turns to me for confirmation, and I nod.

“Sounds good to me. I’m not picky about free meals.”

That makes Reyes snort and Dante cackle. A couple months on the Scorpions had made me forget what it felt like to let my guard down and laugh with teammates. I’m almost scared of how natural it is with them.

“Oh, I can’t come though.” Dante taps his phone. “I got the 9-1-1 from the wifey.”

“Shit, Dante, is everything okay?” I ask, my blood pressure skyrocketing for a woman I’ve never met. “How are you still here laughing—”

“Not a real 9-1-1 text,” Reyes interrupts. He glares at Dante who proceeds to thrust his hips until Reyes backhands his shoulder and laughs at him to knock it off.

“More of a baby-making emergency, if you get my meaning,” Dante says.

“What is not to get?” Reyes asks. “You said it outright.”

“Whatever, man. I gotta run. Have fun at dinner.”

I ignore the thrill I feel when Dante turns down the dinner invite. I’m a little worried about an entire dinner with a man whose mood is constantly in flux, but my excitement outweighs the little voice in my ear telling me this isn’t my brightest idea.

“Crab Bite on me to celebrate a win and one step closer to October,” Reyes yells over his shoulder and steps out of the locker room. “Last one there pays for drinks.”

There’s no denying the way my stomach plummets.