Page 102 of Playing Dirty
“Your stats don’t lie.” He walks up to the edge of the cage and flips his phone screen to face me. On it is a spreadsheet, listing out my various stats over the past couple years I’ve played for Blackmore, and after a few seconds of scanning the information…
Shit, he’s right. Why the hell have my coaches never noticed this before?
His lips twitch when he pockets his phone, having more than proven his point. “Are you ready to listen to me now?”
“You’re getting way too much enjoyment out of this,” I mutter while taking a couple steps back toward the plate. “And where the hell did you find that anyway?”
“I made it.”
I blink at him, not sure I heard him right. “You made a spreadsheet of all my stats while I’ve been playing for Blackmore.”
“Yeah, it wasn’t hard,” he says with a shrug. “I made one for all my teammates too.”
The comment gives me pause because I’mnothis teammate. In fact, I’m the furthest thing from it. Yet he sat and combed through hours of game statistics to create something for me to better understand my game. And in doing so, made a realization none of my coaches did.
“You’re gonna make a damn good sports reporter one day,” I find myself saying, and it draws an amused laugh from him.
“I hardly think making an Excel file is proof of that, but I appreciatethe vote of confidence.” He links his fingers into the fence, the corner of his lips lifting. “Just remember me when you end up hitting a walk-off homer as a lefty in the World Series one day, okay?”
As if I could even try to forget him.
But I ignore the way my chest feels too tight and how my heart wants to burst out from behind my ribs, and instead, point my bat at him menacingly.
“Is that your way of telling me you won’t be in the stands cheering for me?” I ask, my brow arched.
There’s a beat of hesitation before he asks, “Would you want me to be?”
Absolutely. Without a doubt in my mind, it’s a yes. I’d have him there for every single game if I could, even now.
I aim a wicked grin at him. “Well, it would be the brotherly thing to do.”
A burst of laughter leaves him before he lets out a disgusted little groan. “I hate when you say that. Yeah, our parents are married, but you’re making it sound way more ’cestuous than it really is.”
“But why would I stop when it’s so much fun riling you up?” I ask with a wink.
He laughs some more, and the sound fills me with a ridiculous amount of serotonin. But God, that smile…it causes devastation to my heart anytime it’s aimed at me.
It eviscerates my soul.
“Speaking of riling people up…” he muses, a hellish glint in his gaze. “Wyatt is not happy with you right now.”
“Oh, no. How will I ever survive?” I mutter sarcastically as I approach him again. “I’m sure whatever the hell I did, he’ll get over it.”
“You think this is funny, but because of your little trip around our campus, I’m gonna have to go on another raid when we get back from our series in Nashville.”
“I think that’s actually your fault for being a little tattletale.”
He rolls his eyes. “Well, now we’re both going to be suffering the consequences since I was planning to spend that time naked in bed with you.”
“Yeah, not happening. I’ll chain you to the damn bed if I have to.”
From the way his gaze heats, the threat holds far more appeal than I thought it would. But he’s quick to school the lusty gleam and circle back to the actual conversation at hand.
“I’m a team lead. They’ll be pissed if I don’t show up. You realize that, right?”
I shrug and rest my bat over my shoulder. “Let them be pissed. They’re not gonna find it anyway.”
“You hope.”
