“You know better than to catch extra innings,” Alex says with his thumb digging into my quadratus lumborum. My body twitches, but the pain in my low back finally starts to ease up. “Breathe through it.”
“We needed the win, Alex. You know how close we are to that wild-card spot.”
“You have another catcher.”
“Ramirez needed me.” I’m surprised by my own answer. That my thoughts went to her instead of snapping that there’s no way I’m letting Williams take my spot makes me uncomfortable, but Alex’s ministrations may as well be truth serum. “She’s still green. She doesn’t have a rapport with Williams yet, and she has enough trouble trusting me.”
“You have other pitchers, too, Mateo.”
“She was having a great game.” I groan as Alex moves to the other side of my spine, scouting out tender new flesh.
“I hate to say it, but her great game can’t come at your expense. Skip knows what he’s risking playing you this hard, and you do, too, even if you’re too stubborn to admit it. Either she’s got to be able to have a great game with Williams, or you’re going to have to let her ride the bench while you spend some time on first.”
“She needs the time on the mound. She’s not gonna succeed with Williams until she can trust herself, and that isn’t going to happen if we pull her out of the game before she can prove to herself, and every other coach and GM out there, that she can do this.”
“And you’re not going to make it in the game long enough to win that ring or see her succeed if you keep finishing off your games like this,” Alex steps back and waits for me to roll over. “I like the girl, Mateo, I really do. And I’m proud of you for looking out for her; from what I’ve heard, that team in Texas wasn’t doing her any favors. But you can’t keep doing this.”
He helps me sit up and swing my legs over the edge of the table. I feel like a bruised peach, but at least I can breathe without every muscle tensing around my spine.
There’s no disguising the way my stomach growls when the room is this silent. Alex laughs and hands me my bag. No more lectures, at least. I root around in my bag for hand sanitizer and an assortment of snacks that I am less than excited to eat. Considering I all but know this is where I’m going to end up after every game, I need to start planning better, so I’m not left scrounging through warm protein shakes, a banana that’s seen better days, trail mix, and some home-made beef jerky.
“Get your ass in that bath already, I don’t have all night to sit around while you complain about your warm sports drink and pick the dark chocolate and dried cherries out of your trail mix.” True to his word, Alex has the rest of his things already packed up.
I grab the jerky instead, as if that’s going to spite him, and slide off the table.
By now, I should be used to the ice bath, and I hold my own fine when I have an audience. Alone with Alex, I let myself hiss, swear, and bitch until I’m up to my armpits in ice water. I set the timer, and I’m about to reach for my phone when the door creaks open.
“Tell me you aren’t naked again,” Ramirez jokes. She peaks through her fingers, but at least there’s a smile on her face when she looks at me.
“Again?” Alex pauses with one hand on his table and the other on his hip.
“Not my fault she walked in when Williams was trying to goad me into a pissing contest,” I say. Then it strikes me that I don’t know why she’s back. “Forget something, rookie?”
“Just dinner.” She drags a chair closer to the ice bath and balances a couple of greasy bags and a travel cup holder on top of my bag. “Burgers good?”
“You’re a life saver,” Alex says. “I was not looking forward to sharing this guy’s nasty jerky.”
He pulls up Dante’s chair and digs into the bag she offers him, while she’s still laughing.
“Shake or soda?” she asks me.
I want the shake so bad my stomach growls again, but I attempt to be a gentleman since she paid.
“I’ll take whatever you don’t want.” The first bite of my burger makes me moan, and I’m not even embarrassed. I’m so hungry and grateful for the surprise that I don’t pause to pick out the tomatoes. The rate I’m guzzling it down, it would take longer to remove the offensive fruit than it’s going to take me to finish the entire burger.
“I wouldn’t offer you a choice if I cared,” she says. “Vanilla, Neapolitan, or the soda.”
“Neapolitan.” I wolf down the last giant bite of my burger and crumple up the paper before sauce can drip into the tub.
“Please,” she scolds, but she stuffs a straw in the white and green cup and hands it to me with a smirk playing at the corner of her pretty mouth.
“Thank you,” I overenunciate with a mouth full of fries.
“Good boy.”
She says it like it’s a joke and climbs back into my chair with her legs folded beneath her, and sauce dripping between her fingers like she’s in some old-school, over-sexed burger commercial.
I’m suddenly almost grateful to be nipple deep in ice cold water. At least there’s not a bat’s chance in hell of my body responding to those two words.
“Why are you staring at me?” she asks.
“I like the way you eat a burger,” Alex says.
Ramirez is cute when she blushes. Faint pink color blooms on the apples of her cheeks and spreads along her broad cheekbones. It’s the complete opposite of the way her skin goes ashen on the field. She wipes ketchup from the corner of her mouth and reaches for her soda.
“Thanks?”
“No. Thank you. My partner’s been on a vegan kick. You have no idea how much this hit the spot.” Alex rubs his little gut and stands. “Don’t stay in there too long.” He glares at me. “And get some rest. Both of you.”
“He’s right,” I say when the door shuts behind Alex. “I was starving. This was fantastic.”
“Don’t worry,” she says. “You can buy next time.”
The timer goes off while she’s tossing out the rest of our trash and wiping down any mess we’ve made.
“Is that so? Tell you what. I’ll buy breakfast after our workout in the morning.”
“I’m going to assume you’re joking.” Ramirez stands over the ice bath and holds out one hand.
“You may not know me that well, rookie, but I never joke about breakfast.” I wave her hand away and wait for her to turn around.
“Good. But you’d better be joking about working out tomorrow morning. Just like you’d better let me help you out before you slip in the tub, viejito.” She puts her other hand on her hip and raises her eyebrows at me when I hesitate. “Nothing I haven’t seen before, Reyes. If it makes you feel better, I’m helping you out of selfish interest.”
“Oh yeah? You trying to check me out, Ramirez?” I’m playing with fire, and I know better.
I stay slumped in the tub. I’m naked around my teammates on a near daily basis, but I can’t quite convince myself that this is the same, no matter how much I want to treat her like any other ballplayer. I know she wants the same. I’ve seen how uncomfortable she gets with any special treatment–positive, negative, or neutral. I remember her snippy, I don’t date ballplayers, when I was trying so hard to pretend that I wasn’t attracted to her in the first place.
“You should be so lucky,” she teases. When I still don’t move, she sighs. “You were right, okay? Earlier, when you told Alex that I need you on the field. I don’t want to be the reason you push too far, but I don’t think I can walk out on that field without you behind the plate.”
I swallow my pride, my embarrassment, my slightest twinge of inappropriate feelings. Her hand is small and warm. Long fingers. Callused palm. Soft skin.
“You know that I didn’t mean you really need me. Don’t make me keep telling you that you’ve got the talent.” I’m standing nearly naked, straight out of an ice bath, in front of a beautiful woman eleven years my junior and in the best shape of her life, but she’s the one who flushes and turns away. I’m not arrogant enough to think her reaction has anything to do with my body, no matter how well I’ve molded it. “Hey. I wouldn’t tell you that you could do this if I didn’t believe it.”
She snaps a towel at me, and I realize I’m still holding her hand. I almost tell her to go on without me, but I don’t want her walking out to her car alone. I dry off so fast my freezing skin chafes against the rough towel and pull my joggers on over wet boxers.
We walk out to the parking lot mostly in silence. She asks a few questions about Alex. I ask if she misses Texas. Our conversation is stilted but not uncomfortable. It’s the small talk of people who already said goodbye then realized they were walking the same direction.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Ramirez asks.
“I could ask you the same thing,” I say when she steals my keys from my hands. I try to grab them back, but she hides her hands behind her back and leans against her car door. “We’re doing so well, rookie, don’t start nonsense now.”
Even if I weren’t still sore, I wouldn’t be wrestling her in a parking lot to try to get my keys back.
“No nonsense.” She pops her trunk open, even though her bag is already stowed, and stands expectantly. “You can’t drive home like this.”
“I’ve driven home after hundreds of games, rookie. I’ll be fine–”
“You could barely sit up on the bus. Alejandro may be good, but he isn’t magic. Put your shit in, and let’s go.”
I’m not sure why I give in so easily. Maybe I’m too tired to argue. Maybe I just don’t want to fight with anyone who brings me burgers and shakes unexpectedly.
I squeeze myself into her little hybrid, but the seats have a surprising amount of leg room. Not that I was about to complain, when she’s spent the past hour being nicer to me than I probably deserve. Even if I have to suffer another ride without seat heaters.
Shakira starts blasting from the speakers. Ramirez swears and turns it down while she swipes to the GPS app on her phone and hands it to me to put my address in.
By the time the AI voice guides us out of the parking structure, my seat is noticeably warm against my back and hamstrings.
“Turn it down if it gets too hot, obviously,” she says, picking up on my surprise without taking her eyes off the road. “Hmm. You live closer than I thought.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
She didn’t say it with any malice, but I hear her accusation that I’m a miserable player with nothing outside of the sport, whether she meant it in the simple statement or not.
“Nothing. I guess I kind of just assumed you’d live in some big, ridiculous beach house way out of the way with that contract of yours.”
“I’m not home often enough to enjoy it.” It’s true. She doesn’t need to know about the cottage near the sea that was way out of the way, back when I had Oliver to share it with.
“Off-season?”
“I take my mom, sister, and niece back to the Philippines when I can.” I wonder how much that will change after Leila’s debut and Nessa’s wedding. “Long Beach doesn’t exactly compare.”
She looks from the house to me suspiciously as she pulls into my driveway.
“Seriously?”
“Knock it off before you give me a complex about my house.” I open the door before she kills the engine but don’t get out. “Do you want to come inside, or are you going to keep judging?”
“It’s just. So. Normal?” She hesitates on every word and trails off as if there was an actual question stored there somewhere.
“Again. You’re making it hard not to take that as an insult.”
“Sorry. You’ve been my idol since I was a kid, is all. It’s kind of nice to realize you aren’t so different from the rest of us.”
I groan and climb out of the car.
“I can really come in?” she asks while I’m grabbing both our bags out of the trunk. “What are you doing?”
“Stop making me feel old, and yes you can come in. Toss me my keys, and lock up, rookie.” I make it to the porch before her car beeps and she chases after me. Dropping our bags by the door and kicking off my slides, I ask, “Do I need to give you the tour, or can you just snoop while I get changed into something dry?”
“I can snoop.”
“Good girl.” More playing with fire, but I’m trying to get her back for that moment in the ice bath.
Based on the smirk she shoots me, I succeeded in something. I’m just not sure what.