Fallon #2
Jules leans over to Lani with a grin. “You can tell she doesn’t watch much sports.” They both laugh at my own expense, to my surprise, I join them.
I tip my face up, immediately finding Cyrus out on the mound. Ball tucked into his glove, cap low, he looks entirely too good beneath the late afternoon sun. Like he was made for small-town baseball games and causing problems for women trying to mind their business.
His gaze catches mine from across the field, and just like that, his mouth curves. Slow. Knowing. The kind of smile that makes heat creep up my neck before I can stop it.
There’s something lighter about him today. Easier. The usual weight he carries has loosened, traded for bright eyes and the faint lines of amusement carved around his mouth. From where I’m sitting, Cyrus is enjoying himself.
The last baseball game I watched him play was back in high school.
Back then, there were no dramatic celebrations or showboating—just dirt-stained uniforms and Cyrus taking the game far too seriously.
Now? One of the guys cartwheels across the outfield after a catch while the dugout erupts into shouts, Cyrus shakes his head, laughing under his breath like he’s pretending not to love every second of it.
Now I get it.
This is competitive entertainment.
I grab a handful of sunflower seeds and join the crowd. “Let’s goooo, Chief!”
The next batter sends the ball straight up into the air. The crowd collectively gasps.
Jonah rips off his mask with theatrical flair, his man bun springs free, dropping wild blonde curls around his face as he sprints backward, then drops into a flawless split to make the catch.
Perfect. That’ll ignite Jules’s imagination. Oh, the possibilities! Half the men in the crowd groan in dramatic jealousy. Jonah throws his head back, shouting over the cheers, “Who’s your Daddyyyy!”
The stadium erupts.
Three up. Three down.
Teams switch.
And somehow, the chaos keeps getting better.
A shadow briefly blocks the beating sun from my skin, giving me a reprieve.
“Hello, ladies.”
We turn, Todd is standing over us. I’ve never run into him outside of Cub Scouts donations or the restaurant.
His long auburn hair is pleated down his back, the olive flannel accentuating his graying temples.
I note the way Lani sits up a bit straighter in her chair, a flush to her cheeks.
Oh my, a romance is budding between the two, and now, this is fabulous.
“Lani, I brought a chair in hopes of sitting with you for the game.” If she’s surprised, it doesn’t show. With a small tilt of her lips, she welcomes him beside her.
“Of course, Todd, come join us.”
“Todd, are you into baseball?” Jules questions.
He smiles a little. “I don’t get to watch it as much as I used to, but every now and again. I catch a game.”
Lani perks up; those eyes that match Cyrus’s brighten. “Todd sponsors one of the teams.”
They’re both beaming, leaning into each other in a way that makes my chest tighten. I can’t look away. Are they a couple? How long has this been going on?
“Yeah—” Todd hedges. “Lani finagled money for new uniforms out of me.” He gives us a weary head shake. “Those are some…interesting uniforms, Lani.”
She beams with pride. “Oh, aren’t they darling! The bright pink and yellow combo against the black really grabs everyone’s attention! They fit them so well, too.”
She goes on, but Todd interrupts her. “Lani—” he warns. Oh. There’s definitely something there.
A deep male voice interrupts. “Well, here’s my family. With the best seats in the house.”
“Dad!” the kids cheer in unison, leaping from their chairs to hang on the fence that separates us.
He leans against the fence, flipping his ball cap backward so he can plant kisses on the kids’ heads.
The sun illuminates the golden streaks in his bangs, which are plastered with sweat.
His antics earn him a giggle from the kids before they plop back down.
His eyes lock onto me. Cue the butterflies.
He smells incredible. He looks fucking amazing in that baseball uniform, with twin smudges of charcoal beneath his eyes.
They make the blue reflect as brightly as the sky above us… I’ve never wanted to climb a man more.
“Hi, Fallon.”
Those two words make me tighten my thighs, color creeping up my neck.
“Hi, Cyrus.”
“Nice shirt.”
His eyes darken. My smile spreads, too bright, too wide. I can’t hide what I’m thinking.
“Thank you. I thought it had a nice ring to it.”
His eyes crinkle, “Indeed.”
Jules showed up this morning with supplies. We made matching shirts—mine with Cyrus’s number on the back, hers with Jonah’s. The front graphics read, Pitcher Has a Big Bat on mine, and My Catcher Stays on His Knees for Jules.
What seemed innocent then now carries a heated expression from Cyrus, his fingers tightening on the fence.
Everything about this moment feels inappropriate for such a public space.
Lani pipes up, “It sure is hot out here. Kids, let’s get some icees.”
I stand, smiling, aware of the quiet pull between us.
My fingers catch a stray hair at my nape, a small attempt at composure.
We’re not children, yet there’s a reckless, electric edge to the way we move around each other.
I let the pause linger, letting it settle between us, before saying, “I always thought you were an excellent baseball player. I never realized you could somersault as well.”
His eyes light up with humor as he slides a toothpick to the other side of his lips. “I have several hidden talents you haven’t discovered yet.” My cheeks flame under his gaze.
“I bet you do.”
“You can come over here and experience firsthand exactly what my hidden talents are. You can gush about them on the salon’s page later if it makes you happy.
” His words light a fire in me, and the evidence is currently pooling in my now-soaked panties.
Someone’s going to have to put me out next.
This man is all heat and flame, and I’m burning for him.
“Hey, yo! Team Cap! Stop fraternizing with the fans! You’re up next!” Jonah hollers as he sprints over to us. His eyes briefly land on Jules’s shirt, his steps faltering.
‘The Catcher Stays On His Knees For Me’
Color creeps up Jonah’s face. I suck on my bottom lip to keep from laughing.
They should stop tiptoeing around one another and get together.
Jule’s ignores Jonah, instead. I watch, fascinated by their exchange as Jules pulls a firefighter captains tumbler from her bag. The bold print labeling it Jonah’s.
Well, well, well. Someone’s been caught red-handed. Jonah’s face slides into a mask of indifference as Jules’ eyes flick over his ‘fan group’ before going back to ignoring him completely as she sips through the straw of the cup.
I shift my attention back to Cyrus, shooting him a look that says, Did you see that?
The corner of his mouth twitches like he knows exactly what I mean.
He inclines his head toward me, eyes twinkling.
I hop up from my chair, relishing the warmth of the metal beneath my fingers as I lace mine through his.
We lean in, lips brushing through the fence.
He’s warm, earthy, and sweaty. His lips are soft. I moan softly, wanting this man more than a good reputation. Explosions—that’s what it reminds me of, an explosion of butterflies in my tummy as I get lost and bask in the glow of his love.
Women behind us boo. Some cheer. None of it matters as much as this man. Lord, help me because I am in love with Cyrus McCoy.