Chapter 11
Everleigh
If I thought Wyatt Knight’s ass looked good in a pair of Levi’s, I wasn’t prepared for how great it would look in a pair of baseball pants.
Whether we’ve been in the dugout or on the field, Wyatt at the pitcher’s mound, and me playing short stop between first and second, I can’t seem to keep my eyes off it. It looks delicious enough to bite into.
I’m staring at that fine ass through the dugout wire when Coach Porter calls my name.
“Everleigh, you’re on deck after Wyatt.” Kurt’s the best electrician within a hundred miles and the coed softball team’s self-appointed coach.
Since no one else wants to be in charge, no one argues the appointment.
He only plays when he has to. On nights like tonight when there are enough men to fill the spots, Kurt hovers with a clipboard keeping track of the batting order and who’s playing what position on the field.
“Hold that thought,” Sherri Townsend says to her sister sitting next to her as I pass them in the dugout. “Sheriff Knight’s up next.”
The way she practically coos his name has me tightening my grip on the bat I select. Is this…jealousy?
Fuck.
Although Wyatt and I didn’t have a chance to talk about what last night was thanks to an emergency call that required him to leave in a hurry, I clung to the whole friends thing we agreed to when he showed up in the first place.
That it turned into friends with benefits, well, no one’s mad about that, right?
Fuck, those benefits were divine.
“You’re single now,” Sherri’s sister Gloria says as I move in front of the dugout. It’s too early for me to practice my swing. I have to wait until Wyatt’s up to bat, so I hang back near the dugout. “You should totally go for it. Imagine the babies the two of you would have together.”
“Do you think he wants more than three?” Sherri says, giggling.
“A man like that, you should go for at least five.”
I don’t have to hear the whole conversation to know they’re talking about Wyatt.
They can’t stop staring at him anymore than I can.
He swings a bat off to the side, preparing to take the plate next, and I hear one of them make some type of swooning noise.
Until now, I’ve given Wyatt so much shit about women like Sherri fawning all over him.
Though she is attractive, she’s totally not his type.
Nor have any of the women who’ve been tripping all over themselves to get Wyatt to notice them this past year.
Huh.
The sky darkens overhead, and I look up to see cumulonimbus clouds forming in the west. There’s one helluva storm on the way, and judging by the speed it’s building, we’re not making it to the end of this game. First sign of lightning, they’ll call the game.
Did I call in a thunderstorm? I laugh quietly at the thought, knowing full well Sherri won’t be the one going home with the good sheriff should we get rained out.
But she could be the one walking down the aisle to him if you don’t get your head out of your ass, James.
I don’t know what it says about my mental state that the idea of marrying Wyatt Knight not only doesn’t scare me anymore, it seems…
inevitable. Fuck, do I…love him? But how could I not?
He’s been there for me no matter how big or small the ask.
No matter how stupid the ask, and I’ve had some dumb requests.
Shit.
I love Wyatt.
Like, I really love him.
The urge to drop the bat and sprint straight out of town doesn’t hit me.
I don’t want to run anywhere but into his arms. Did seeing that little girl in the diner last night somehow heal me?
Maybe she just reminded me who the fuck I was.
That chasing storms was a way to honor my parents memory, and I have nothing to feel guilty about.
In fact, all I feel now is an overwhelming sense of peace and giddiness.
I’m grinning like a fool when Wyatt looks back at me and winks before stepping up to the plate.
Heat coils in my belly, and I nearly trip over my own two feet.
My nipples tingle as he assumes the position.
His ass pops back, and dammit if I’m not staring again.
It reminds me of the way I pushed my own butt against him last night, right against his bare cock.
Never in my life would I have thought a man coming on my shorts would turn me on.
But when he used his shirt to wipe up his seed dripping down my leg, I nearly had another orgasm. It was so fucking erotic. And…intimate.
As soon as this game is over, I’m dragging him to my bed.
A loud crack echoes as Wyatt’s bat makes contact with the ball. I watch the softball sail far out into left field. It skirts the foul line, and Wyatt makes it to second base easily. Weston Stone’s foot crosses home plate seconds before the ball slams into the catcher’s mitt.
“You should totally ask him out after the game,” Gloria pushes her sister.
“You think?”
“That man is ready to settle down. Todd Bowler heard him say as much at The Cow’s Moo the other day.”
“Everleigh?” a faint voice calls out.
“You better snatch him up before someone else does,” Gloria pushes.
“Everleigh!” I look at Coach Porter, and he points to the plate.
“Batter up!” The ump yells, sounding impatient.
“You think he’d go for a fall wedding?” I faintly hear Sherri say.
“You planning to get knocked up?”
Possessiveness surges inside me, as though some animalistic instinct has taken over. I’ll be damned if Sherri Townsend or any other woman snatch Wyatt up.
The ball sails toward me, and I channel all this pent-up emotion into my swing.
He’s mine.
The ball hits the bat so hard my hands sting. I start to run, but before I even make it to first base, I hear the crowd erupt in cheers.
“Damn, that was impressive,” the first basemen says as my foot crosses the plate.
“Thanks?”
“Why are you stopping?” he asks. “Run home.”
Only now do I realize I’ve actually hit the ball out of the park. I played softball growing up, and I have no shame admitting I was good. But I’ve never hit a homerun.
Until now.
“Go on,” he says.
As I jog to second, I feel the first fat raindrops hit my arms. By the time I make it to third, the rainfall is steady. When I cross home plate, the first crack of thunder echoes. For the first time in a year, that sound doesn’t make me shrink and panic.
It makes me feel alive.
Wyatt’s waiting for me just outside the dugout.
He scoops me up into his arms, hugging me tight as he spins me around in a circle.
“Great job, Ev. Fuck, that was amazing.” The rain’s coming down so hard I can hardly see him in front of me, but I don’t need to see him to finally realize what’s been standing in front of me the whole. I’m done fighting this.
“That’s game, folks,” the ump shouts, his voice drown out by another round of thunder. “Get outta here before you all get soaked!”
The stands have emptied out, and the players are gathering their gear to leave. But I don’t move, and neither does Wyatt.
“Sheriff Knight?” Sherri hollers at him from inside the dugout.
“He’s taken, Sherri,” I yell back, cupping Wyatt’s cheek. I drag his mouth to mine and kiss him, sending a message for all the Sherri’s out there: Wyatt Knight belongs to me.