CHAPTER 7
“So—” Dante’s chair squeaks as he rolls up next to the ice bath. “Are we ever going to talk about what made you insist Ramirez come out to team dinner with us?”
I begrudgingly open my eyes. Ice water sloshes against aluminum as I shift my mostly numb ass.
“You tell me. You didn’t seem to be complaining when you spent half the night talking her ear off,” I say. I sink lower into the tub and hiss as the freezing water splashes my nipples.
“I’m not complaining. Just wondering what got into you, and making sure I wasn’t stepping on your sensitive-ass toes by talking to her.”
“She’s a ballplayer, Dante. Doesn’t matter if she’s on a different team or if she’s a woman.”
“So, you did think about it?” Dante’s one of my best friends on the team, but he does not know when to let well enough alone.
“It was two weeks ago. I invited her because no one else was going to, and I’m captain for the whole team. Not just you assholes.”
“Alright, man. No need to get touchy about it. I was just checking in.” Dante holds up his hands placatingly. He waggles his brows and makes wide eyes at me, and I can’t help laughing with him.
“Whatever, dude,” I say when buzzing interrupts us. “Hand me my phone, will you?”
“Is your family still coming to the game today?” He holds my phone just out of reach, and I’m in no position to lunge for it. “Vanessa and Mama Reyes?”
“And Leila and her partner.” I open and clench my fist, gesturing for my phone before I have to deal with Nessa’s earful or my mom’s guilt trip for not answering. “Are we done with the interrogation?”
“Almost,” Dante says. “Are they staying for dinner?”
“You’re shameless. Yes, they’re staying the weekend. And yes, if you give me my phone before it stops ringing, you can bring your family over for dinner after the game tomorrow.” He hesitates, and I answer before he can open his mouth again. “No, I don’t know what my mom cooked today. Does it make a difference?”
“Guess not,” he mouths, backing up while I answer the phone.
“What’s up, Nessa? You on your way?”
“We haven’t left yet,” she says before covering the mouthpiece to yell something I can’t make out. “Gray is freaking out a little about being at the Mateo Reyes’ house, and Leila is having a good time showing off. Plus, you know what happens when Mom’s in your kitchen—”
“Please tell me she didn’t buy me groceries again,” I groan. “Tell her, I’ll take her to the Asian market tomorrow morning. I’ll buy anything she wants me to have, but I can”t have that woman spending a fortune stocking my fridge and then refusing to let me pay her back again.”
“Old man Reyes, one game into the series and already in the ice bath,” Williams taunts.
“Come back and talk to me when your first injury teaches you that maintenance beats burning out young,” I say without looking up at him. “Do you need something, Nessa? I’ve got to go get ready for this game.”
“Don’t bother,” Williams says. “Skip figured I could give you a night off. Plenty of time for you to do that maintenance.”
“The hell are you talking about? Vanessa, I’ll call you back.” I hang up and turn my full attention to the cocky twenty-two-year-old who should be warming the bench for me until I decide otherwise.
“You took a foul ball to the face mask last night. Take a game off. We’re up two games in this series; give Williams a chance behind the plate,” Skip says from behind me. Always the voice of reason, his baritone voice is calm even as Williams’ smirk makes my heartbeat throb behind my eyes.
“The ball barely got me, Skip. Seriously, I’m good to play—”
“I know you can play. I’m telling you to sit this one out. My decision’s already made.”
“Skip, wait. My family is coming to watch me play tonight, come on—”
“Don’t forget I’ve met your mom. I know she’d rather see you sitting one out to stay healthy than to watch you on that field.” Skip turns and takes a slow step toward the locker room doors.
“Don’t worry, grandpa.” Williams digs the knife in further. “I’m sure you’ll do a great job keeping the bench warm. Better get comfy, too, because once they see me play, you’ll be spending a lot of time there—”
“You’ve got a big mouth.” I stand so fast, half of the water splashes out of the ice bath. All eyes are on us, Dante moving closer for back-up even though I’m not about to start a fight dripping wet and butt-ass naked. Someone tosses a towel at me as I step out of the bath, but I toss it over my shoulder and cross my arms over my chest. “Maybe someday you’ll earn that ego, but you sure as hell haven’t done it yet.”
“Umm, Reyes—”
“What, Dante?” I snap. “I’m kind of in the middle of something here.”
“And you might want to put the towel on for it.” Dante clears his throat.
“We’re just two men having a conversation in the locker room. Aren’t we, Williams?”
“You might want to listen to your teammate and put that towel on.” The general manager’s voice is charismatic but hard, leaving no room for argument, even if we did come up in our careers side by side.
I glance over my shoulder with an unapologetic grin that never lands. Whipping the towel off my shoulder, I wrap it around my hips to the soundtrack of Williams’ obnoxiously raucous laughter.
“What is she doing here, Jamie?” I knot the towel and run my fingers through my hair to try to distract from the embarrassment heating my cheeks.
“Calm down, Captain,” Ramirez answers before the men flanking her can answer for her. “Yours isn’t the first bare ass to flash me.”
“Probably not the best one either,” Williams stage whispers.
“I believe you and our newest pitcher have already met,” Jamie answers simply, as if that’s enough explanation.
“Briefly.”
Ramirez speaks curtly. Her eyes are hard on mine for a second that seems to last an eternity. I see my own memories reflected in that dark intensity, but I can’t read anything in her reaction. For someone who makes a living reading other athletes, it’s infuriating.
She turns away from me, and for the first time in a long time, I feel dismissed in my own locker room. If she were any other player on this team, I would confront her for it—maybe not in the moment, but I’ll be damned if I wouldn’t store it and bide my time to make them pay for it.
All eyes are on us, even the ones who at least have the decency to be subtle about it. Sizing Ramirez up. Watching for my reaction. The way I react will set the standard for how she’s treated in this locker room and on this team, and I want to hate the position she’s put me in.
“You pitching to Williams today?” I ask.
“She’ll start tomorrow,” Jamie says.
“You can teach her the signals and get her up to speed today,” Skip adds, as much to clarify our expectations as to take back a measure of authority from the much younger GM.
“Yeah, Reyes. The girl can help you keep the bench warm for me,” Williams forces himself back into the conversation, disrespecting all of us in one breath.
It’s impossible to focus on his usual arrogant quips when Jamie touches Ramirez’s shoulder and points her toward the glorified closet off the main locker room. I stare at them too long, lost in my own thoughts, trying so hard not to investigate the electricity her earlier dismissal sent down my spine.
“You couldn’t have given us a little warning, Skip?” I tear my attention away from her swaying ponytail and head for my locker with one hand ensuring my towel is secure.
“I didn’t have any warning to give,” Skip answers. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not the one who brought her down here. More importantly, none of us were expecting to find you naked as the day you were born—”
“I was in the ice bath—”
“You were having a damned pissing contest, is what you were doing. Now get dressed before she comes back out. She’s seen more than enough of you for one day, don’t you think?” Skip ambles off to catch up with Jamie and Ramirez without waiting for an answer.
“Now are you ready to tell me why you invited her to dinner last week?” Dante asks while I pull on my pants. I’m tempted to wipe that grin right off his face. Knowing him, that would only confirm whatever nonsense he’s brewed up. I’ve been playing older brother and team dad long enough to know not to take the bait, even from him.