Page 3 of Swing and a Little Miss

"Great." My eye twitched as I turned away and headed back to my office. I’d make sure Jocelyn planned something else for my time that conflicted with the marketing meeting we didn’t need to waste time with.

3

ABBY

It was finally Thursday, and I was looking forward to picking up General Tso's chicken and fried rice from Tasty Bowl. It was my favorite takeout place and my Thursday night routine before heading home and watching some mindless reality show. It was three in the afternoon, so I had a few more hours of work before I could head out.

I glanced up from my computer, and there he was again. Mr. Royce Fucking Elliot paced back and forth in the breakroom at least four times a day. This was likely his second-to-last cup, but he’d gone as high as seven on rough days. Pretending to be looking through my phone, I watched him run his hands through his dark hair, leaving it perfectly mussed. How could someone so stiff be so sexy? Was he stiff all over?

As if he could feel my stare, he looked up at me and furrowed his brows. Even pissed off, he looked good. In fact, it kinda added to his appeal.

I wanted to get back to work, but something in my tummy kept me from looking away. Every time I caught a glimpse of him, it was like my brain short-circuited and I was frozen in place. Onemoment I wanted to march into the breakroom and demand to know why he was perpetually pissed off at the world. The next minute, I imagined walking into his office and being bent over his desk for a good pounding. In my head, sometimes it was with his dick and sometimes it was with his palm.

My fantasies weren’t consistent in content, but they always featured the same crankypants sales boss.

"Focus, Abby!" I muttered under my breath. It wasn't like I hadn't seen attractive men before, but there was something about Royce that made my thoughts wander down paths they had no business going. Maybe it was the way his expensive suits hugged his broad shoulders or the fleeting moments when his pissy facade slipped and a hint of a smile touched his lips. Whatever it was, it called me to him.

For the third time today, his gaze caught mine from across the room. This time, it lingered, piercing through the glass wall and poking right between my legs. My cheeks burned with heat, and I couldn't tell if it was from embarrassment or something else entirely.

But I was gonna find out. Without taking a beat to consider the consequences of a tantrum, I pushed back my chair and stood up. Enough was enough. He was going to tell me how I could better support his team if it was the last thing he did.

The clack of my heels against the tile announced my march toward the breakroom. I reached the coffee machine and was about to pour myself a cup of salvation when the door burst open.

"Royce, we have a problem.” Corrine, Royce’s top saleswoman, came running in. She was slightly out of breath as she held upher hands in front of herself. “Angie can't play tonight. She hurt her wrist and is out. We don’t have any subs, so if we can’t find a replacement, we gotta forfeit."

Right, the company softball team was the second most important group in this company. About twenty rungs above the marketing department.

“Fuck.” Royce groaned and ran a hand through his hair once more, making it stand up in a way that somehow was both disheveled and stylishly edgy. Then his eyes drifted over to mine.

"You play softball?" His face was unreadable, but there was hope in his tone.

"Um, yeah. I'm okay, I guess." The words felt clumsy coming out because I wasn’t a great liar.

But Royce’s scowl instantly softened, and he almost smiled at me. "Good." Royce turned to Corinne. “Problem solved. It’s probably a mistake, but at least we won’t have to forfeit.”

I inhaled through my nose and my hands curled into fists. I was doing him a favor and he was still such a jerk. Little did he know, I was about to become his favorite mistake.

Corrine's eyes went wide as she exchanged a pointed look with Royce. I could almost hear their silent conversation. Were they desperate enough to risk putting someone “okay” on their star team?

What they didn't know was that “okay” for me meant having played on a D2 team in college. I wasn't just good. I was really damn good. But they didn’t need to know all my secrets. If he was nice, I’d carry the team to victory. And if he wasn’t, I’d swing and miss and stumble the bases just to keep his eyes on me.

It was all part of the dance I'd been doing with Royce since I started working here. We were both guilty of this act that revolved around annoyance and brattiness and sexual tension. Maybe winning the game could finally relieve some of that tension—one way or another.

Royce walked away just as abruptly as he always did.

I rolled my eyes and whispered under my breath, “You’re welcome.”

Corinne chuckled. "Looks like you're in for a fun night.” She looked me up and down and then seemed concerned by what she saw. “You sure you're up for it? We’re kinda competitive."

I nodded, forcing a smile. "Yeah, I’ll be fine."

When we finally headed over to the park, there was a double-sized baseball of stress in my tummy. As much as I loved the game, I didn’t want to play on Royce’s team. The pressure was too high, and if we lost, everyone I was trying to get to like me would hate me. But if I bailed and they had to forfeit, I was pretty sure they’d hate me for that as well.

The softball field was busy with people warming up and tossing balls from plate to plate. Within just a few minutes of being out there, I started to relax. I’d spent most of my life on turf just like the one I was standing on, and all those happy memories came back to me. I wanted to just play and have fun the way I did when I was a little girl.

The way I tried to play when I was alone, but it was never quite the same.

Out on the field with Royce in a jersey that hugged him in all the right places, I felt strangely safe.

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