Page 60 of The Strike Zone

“You best not be calling because you wanted snacks,” snapped Lux as he got closer and positioned himself against the boards.

“I wasn’t, though it wouldn’t have hurt you to pick up some protein bars on your way over here.”

Lux rolled his eyes. “What is it then?”

“I was just wondering where Radley’s sitting.”

Ace barked out a laugh. “Seriously. Tan, come on.”

“What?” he replied, his tone verging on huffy. “You know where Payton is. Parker knows where Scout is. I just want to know where Millie is. They weren’t here for warm-ups.”

Lux dropped his head with a shake, though it was only to hide a grin.

“I don’t, actually,” I offered up.

Tanner turned to me. “What?”

“I don’t know where Scout is. I haven’t seen her since this morning after Rangers douche stormed away.”

Tanner’s eyes bulged in response. “Shit.That’swho that guy was? I should have knocked him out when he barged me. What was he doing here?”

I shrugged. “To talk to Scout, I guess. Not that he got a chance.”

What an absolute tool that guy had been. Still was. Always would be, most likely. I’d been thinking about it all day and couldn’t figure out how Scout—sweet, lovely Scout—had wasted so long with him. Or what she’d seen in him in the first place.

He wasn’t even good looking. Close up, I could only describe his face as punchable.

Ace pulled a protein bar from his pocket and unwrapped it. “Yeah, I’d say you were rocking that protective vibe this morning. Did Scout finally see you as boyfriend material and agree to a date?”

I shook my head. “Not yet.”

He reached over and patted my knee. “She will, don’t worry. Did you get her number yet?”

“Nope.”

“Well, that needs to be the next plan in Operation Strike Zone.”

“Only if we stop calling it that.”

Tanner turned to me. “What’s wrong with Operation Strike Zone?”

“What’s right with it? It sounds so dumb.”

“It’s cool. Like we’re in the CIA or something.”

“But we’re not in the CIA. We play baseball.”

Tanner shrugged like he didn’t see the difference and stood up. “Well, I think it’s cool. And you know my motto…”

He reached over my head to the shelves of helmets and grabbed his. Without saying another word, he turned around, jogged to the end of the dugout, removed his bat from the bin, and vaulted the boards on the way to the bullpen.

Lux had long since lost interest in the conversation and was now looking out to the field where the Marlins were getting into position on the field. I turned to Ace, wearing an expression of amusement identical to his.

“Whatishis motto?”

“Beats me,” he replied, nodding to the field. “Reeves is up.”

Nudging Lux with the tip of my shoe and gesturing him to move out of the way from the boards he was still leaning over—the guy made a better door than a window—I watched the field. The Marlins were all in place, preparing themselves for the force of Jupiter’s hit. He hadn’t made a home run yet, but the last two innings he’d got around to third base before the ball stopped him.

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