Page 102 of The Strike Zone

There was something about Scout that made all the usual noise around me quieten, and I could have stayed here all day as she tried to hold in her smile.

“Ace will pitch, try to avoid the cameras when you’re running.”

“Shouldn’t they be trying to avoid me?” I winked.

“Barclay will outrun you, so don’t worry about him,” she continued, her tone full of tease. “But please try and get it in one take. Tanner took so long that we’re running out of time.”

“Anything for you, Davison.”

“Thank you.”

“I missed you this morning,” I whispered, taking the helmet she was holding out to me. A zap of static shocked between us as our fingers brushed. “But Monday’s a free day, I vote we make it our first date day. And also make up for lost time. Whaddya say?”

She popped a hip, crossing her arms over her chest, and her face filled with sass. “What time have we lost?”

“Well, you know…we could be making out in the closet right now, or I could have stayed over at yours last night.” I dropped my voice. “Any time I don’t get to spend naked with you is lost time. So…Monday, date?”

There was something about the way she looked up at me, bright blue eyes widening under the almond curve of her thick black lashes, that hit the dead center of my groin.

She took a step back, followed by another, before giving one single tiny nod, and then the smile she’d been holding in beamed out.

Fucking yes.

We filmed my segment in one take and finished the morning on schedule.

By the time we wrapped, even Tanner was enjoying himself, and with everyone else buzzing hard off all the chatter and laughing, there had been too much going on for me to notice Coach had spent most of the time scowling in my direction.

TWENTY-FIVE

SCOUT

“Do you wanna slow down on that before you choke?”

I stuffed another handful of popcorn into my mouth. “Huh?”

Alice removed the box from my hands.

The hot dog guy was walking down the steps between the seats, and I was tempted to call him over. Instead, I picked up the giant Slurpee and we watched Boomer Jones walk over to home plate.

The old-school baseball organ—original to Lions Stadium, and one of my favorite things about home games—blared out something sounding a lot like Beyoncé.

For a second, it brought a smile to my lips, though it died again when Boomer missed his first swing.

I shoved my fist back into the popcorn box. “Dammit.”

Today we were playing the Cubs at home, the final game of the series and the first time this season I was watching a home game from the comfort of the stands. We’d recorded content before the first pitch, and everything else we’d take from the usual filming around the stadium.

This was my game to enjoy.

Tryto enjoy.

Except right now we were bottom of the sixth, trailing the Cubs by four runs. Parker was currently grounded at second. His face filled the screen on the Jumbotron, and from the tension in his jaw, anyone could see how annoyed he was.

I’d missed the 101 on coping with the game-day pressure of dating a baseball player. Combine the dating-in-secret and you had the perfect recipe for stress eating. I’d already been through a packet of Twizzlers. At this rate I’d be downing a bottle of Pepto-Bismol before the day was out.

I shoved another handful of popcorn in my mouth as Boomer’s bat finally made contact with the ball hard enough for it to soar high into left field. My answer was drowned out by the deafening roar of the home crowds. Parker passed third and jogged safely to the dugout followed by Boomer, closing the gap on the score.

It was as he ducked down his eyes flicked left and right, and I knew he was searching for me.

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