Heavy Hitter (Dating Mr. Baseball Book 4)

by Lucy McConnell

  Heavy Hitter

  Dating Mr. Baseball Book Four

  Lucy McConnell

  Copyright © 2019 by Lucy McConnell

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Heavy Hitter

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

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  Heavy Hitter

  Calling all contestants! The Redrocks are holding open tryouts for their new mascot.

  Anything could happen—on the field and in love—when the stadium lights turn on.

  Sheila Weaver, community outreach specialist for the St. George Redrocks, is the person the players groan when they see coming. She gets it—she’s the one who schedules their public appearances and chips away at their limited free time. But, she’s got a plan to involve the whole community in selecting the team’s mascot and the drive to make it happen despite her older sister’s insistence that she could have done better in life.

  Brock Mattock, center fielder for the Redrocks, has fallen for the wrong woman before—several times. With a bruised heart, he accepts a dinner invitation from Sheila’s sister, Kelly, only to discover that she’s not at all like the dynamic woman he’s admired from afar. Sure that he knows which sister he truly wants, he has to convince Sheila that he’s not playing games.

  Even though she’s attracted to Brock, and impressed with the type of man he is on and off the field, Sheila has no intention of moving in on her sister’s guy. But Brock is patient and sweet and volunteers to help with her off-season project, slowly chipping away at her defenses. When a stolen locker-room kiss ignites a fire neither of them can deny, Sheila has to face her sister’s wrath and the possibility that her love for Brock may tear her family apart.

  Chapter One

  Sheila

  “Just a sliver.” Sheila Weaver held her pointer finger and thumb an inch apart.

  Brayden Birks, former pitcher and the new assistant pitching coach for the St. George Redrocks, gave her a dubious look as he placed the small slice of cake on a paper plate. “You might actually have enough there to taste.”

  “All I need is a taste.” She forced a smile. Gag! She hated when her older sister’s voice was in her head. The trouble with having a super-successful doctor for an older sibling only started with the constant lectures about the evils of sugar. There were other lectures as well, though Sheila had no desire to review them while enjoying an impromptu party in the physical therapy room of the Redrocks baseball organization—an organization she adored.

  Brayden handed her the plate and a plastic fork, and she scooted out of the way in her sensible heels so Juan Castillo could get his cake. Juan winked at her before stepping up. His immaculately trimmed beard was a sexy accessory for his square jawline. He was the spokesperson for an underwear line and darn proud of it. He was also the father of three adorable little girls and a jokester. He couldn’t hold a straight face if it was handed to him.

  Sheila shook her head and smiled in return. Juan could also talk the ear off a monkey, so she hurried over to join Ashley, the assistant community outreach specialist and her bestie, near the free weights.

  “Were you here in time for Brayden’s speech?” Ashley fanned her face. “If Tilly doesn’t take him back, I’m going to move in on that.” She punctuated her words by jabbing her fork towards Brayden’s general direction.

  Sheila laughed. “Sorry, I think his heart is spoken for.” They watched as Tilly serendipitously took an eyeful of Brayden’s broad shoulders and strong arms. When Brayden caught her looking, she averted her gaze.

  Sheila and Ashley smothered their giggles. Nothing like love happening on the team to get them in a good mood. The happier the players, the easier they were to work with when it came to scheduling signings and appearances.

  When they composed themselves, Ashley let out a gusty sigh.

  “What was that for?” Sheila scraped the frosting off the side of the cake and ate that first. She let the sugar roll over her tongue like a forbidden romance. If sugar was so bad for her, why did it have to taste so good?

  “Wouldn’t you love to have someone look at you like that?” This time Ashley pointed her fork at Coach Wolfe, who kissed his wife, Harper, on the forehead. His eyes closed momentarily, like he was so overcome with the sensations inside his heart that he couldn’t keep them open.

  Sheila’s heart lurched in longing. She swallowed the last of the frosting right along with the sentimentality. “There’ll be time for that later.” The words were as thick as the greasy coating left on her teeth.

  “How about now? Now is a good time.” Ashley’s fork did big circles in the air. “When, in all our lives, have we ever been surrounded by so many good-looking men? I mean, seriously. The odds are in our favor.”

  Sheila took off her business goggles, the ones she used to block out the mountains of muscles, the chiseled jawlines, the piercing gazes, and the general hotness of the men she worked with on a daily basis. Her breath caught as Brock Mattock, center fielder with a batting average of 290, turned slightly, catching her eye. Butterflies erupted in her stomach, burning through every calorie she’d consumed that day and all five days before. Her cheeks warmed and she looked quickly away, schooling her features in the process. “These guys don’t see me as a potential date. They see me as the woman who ropes them into giving up their free time.”

  “For a good cause,” Ashley said, defending her and their community outreach program. The more involved the St. George locals became with the Redrocks, the more successful the team would be. Building a fan base from scratch wasn’t easy.

  Sheila cocked a hip and gave Ashley a dubious look. “They run when they see me coming.”

  “Not true.”

  “True.”

  Ashley narrowed her eyes, accepting a challenge Sheila didn’t know she’d handed out. “Fine. If not here, then we need to figure out how to get to Home Depot.”

  “Home Depot?” Sheila lifted an eyebrow. “What’s at Home Depot?”

  “At 10 a.m.? Men. Usually contractors and laborers. Men with muscles who know how to work—datable men.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  Ashley tossed her mass of short black curls off her face. “That’s how my cousin met her husband.”

  Sheila shoved her arm. “You’re making that up!”

  “I’m not. I swear to you.” She pulled out her phone. “I’m finding her Instagram post right now.” Ashley buried her nose in social media so she could prove her point. Sheila took a bite of chocolate cake.

  Harper Wolfe joined their group. Her hair, as always, was shiny and perfectly d
one in big beach waves. She wore a loose pair of black pants and a flowing blouse. “I think our little matchmaking scheme in Atlanta worked.” She blew on her nails and then brushed them across her shoulder.

  Sheila grinned. Brayden Birks and Tilly Creswick had been almost engaged before Brayden fell in a rock-climbing accident. He’d broken up with Tilly to save her from himself. Harper had cooked up a scheme to get the two of them on a road trip together that involved the head pitching coach, the travel coordinator, and Sheila and Ashley to make sure the timing worked out.

  “Did you see the way he looked at her?” Ashley melted, her hand over her heart.

  “Did I?” Harper grinned. “She can’t stop staring at him.”

  The three of them watched the couple, who were trying valiantly to stay on opposite sides of the room when they were so obviously dying to be together.

  “Well done, ladies!” Harper winked. “I know this little project was outside your wheelhouse, but you came through for the Redrocks family.” She gave them quick hugs. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got an appointment.”

  “Of course.” Sheila watched Harper take Coach Wolfe’s hand, and they left together. “Whenever she’s around, I feel like I’m at the cool kids’ lunch table.”

  “With all the hot guys,” Ashley added. “Come on, if you could pick one of the players to meet outside of the office, who would it be?”

  Sheila’s eyes darted to Brock. He had that whole surfer guy thing going with the windswept blond hair that looked good soaked in salt water or dried by a Pacific breeze while snuggling next to a driftwood fire. Of course his shoulders were broad, and of course his arms were the size of tree trunks, and of course his sky-blue eyes were like jewels. Wait, maybe it wasn’t expected for a center fielder who batted third in the lineup to have sparkling blue eyes.

  She blinked and moved on, not willing to get caught up in a fantasy that would never happen. So what if Brock was tan and toned? So what if he was one of the few guys that didn’t cringe when she showed up with a new volunteer sheet? That didn’t mean he saw her as anything more than a coworker.

  She picked the guy standing beside Brock. “Tommy Newton,” she blurted.

  “He’s the bull pen catcher.”

  “I think he’s nice.”

  “Nice, yeah.” Ashley regarded him as one would a sweater she was debating putting on her credit card. “But you aren’t into redheads.”

  Crap. Ashley knew her all too well. “That’s not fair. I haven’t really given them the chance.”

  “Now’s a good time to start.” Ashley hooked Sheila’s elbow and dragged her through the crowd to where Brock, Ricky Garcia, and Tommy were joking around.

  Sheila’s heart began to race and her head scattered. Looking at the three guys, all she could think about was Neapolitan ice cream. Tommy was the strawberry, Ricky Garcia was the chocolate, and Brock the vanilla. She clamped her lips tightly together to keep that ridiculous thought from escaping.

  Ashley nudged her. “Hey, guys, you ready for Atlanta?”

  Sheila took a tiny bite of her cake, afraid she’d choke or do something else to embarrass herself in front of three of the hottest guys on the planet. There was so much testosterone swimming around her that her amygdala had reared to life. All she could think about was falling into Brock’s arms and lying on a sandy beach under the stars; their lips would come ever so slowly together until they finally collided in a perfect symphony of give and take.

  “Ready to dominate!” yelled Ricky, startling Sheila out of her fantasy. He fist-bumped the other two guys and then Sheila and Ashley. Ashley giggled. Sheila held back her eye roll.

  Yes, these were the men Ashley wanted her to date—perpetual fifteen-year-olds who put gum on each other’s hats during games. She felt someone watching her and glanced up to find Brock’s summer-sky eyes intent on her. He didn’t seem fifteen. Oh no. He was all grown man with sharp cheekbones and a firm jaw. Their gazes held, and she lost focus on the rest of the world.

  “Come on, guys, I need to check in with …” Brock trailed off, ripping his gaze away.

  Sheila bit back the disappointment. Obviously, he was trying to get away from her before she trapped him into a Saturday signing autographs at a golf course or a car dealership.

  They said goodbye and left, smacking a few guys on the back or punching them in the shoulder as they passed.

  Sheila let out a sigh. “Home Depot, you say?”

  Ashley nodded. “Should we go tomorrow?”

  Sheila laughed off her momentary display of complete desperation. She was in no way desperate for a man. She had a great life, a fantastic job, and a best friend. She wanted a man, though. Wanted her skin to tingle in anticipation of his touch. Wanted a reason to wear her tight black dress and hot-pink heels. The thing was, when she pictured herself all dressed up, it was Brock that she was reaching for. She shook the image out of her head as fast as she could. “We need to focus on the Redrocks—not digging up dates.”

  Ashley groaned. “You’re impossible.”

  “Yep. I plan to be impossibly successful.” She dropped her empty plate into the garbage can and dusted off her hands. “And I’m not going to rest until every person in St. George is a Redrocks fan. Then—then!—there will be more dating, more smooching.”

  Ashley groaned at Sheila’s version of the DIY superstore’s logo.

  Sheila smirked. She was on the verge of greatness in her field. She could feel it in her gut, and she didn’t need to get sidetracked by a man—even a hot surfer baseball star with wavy blond hair and dreamy blue eyes.

  Chapter Two

  Brock

  Brock looked over his shoulder as they left the PT room and the celebration behind.

  “Is she following us?” asked Ricky.

  “Who?”

  “Sheila.” Ricky shuddered. “I swear when she looks at me she’s sizing me up for a promotional poster.”

  That wasn’t at all what Brock felt when Sheila looked his way. He felt like his hands were too big for his body, and he never knew where to put them. “I think she’s nice.” She had hair so light it could only be called white. The soft strands brushed her shoulders, and he had a difficult time not staring at her red lips. It was embarrassing.

  Tommy peeled off from their group. “I’ve got another hour in the cage. I’ll see you guys later.”

  “Later,” Brock called after him.

  He and Ricky continued on to the locker room, where they gathered their bags. The walls were green from the waist down and white above that. A giant Redrocks logo was painted on one wall, and lockers lined the other with benches in front of them. No matter how much of a mess the team made in here after a game or a practice, it always looked clean when Brock walked into the room. He highly suspected baseball elves were real.

  “I’ve got to sign something at the front desk for my work visa.” Ricky pointed to the heavy metal doors that separated the front office from the players’ area.

  Hiking his bag up on his shoulder, Brock followed him out. He’d given Ricky a ride in today because Ricky was still a danger to fellow drivers. He swore he was an excellent driver in the Dominican Republic, but Brock debated that. In fact, it was the commutes that had started their friendship and the continued driving lessons that cemented it. Putting his life in Ricky’s hands on a weekly basis as Ricky navigated I-15 was as good of a friend as he could be.

  “Wanna go out this weekend?” asked Ricky. He ran his hand down his trimmed facial hair. Not a lot of guys had goatees these days but Ricky wore it like he’d come out of the womb with one. His jet-black hair was slicked back off his forehead and tucked under a ball cap, and heavy, dark eyebrows hooded his gaze. Brock wasn’t sure what color of eyes Ricky had—even though they were buddies, he hadn’t ever stared into Ricky’s eyes. For one, that was weird. For two, he didn’t want to get punched in the face.

  “Honestly?” he asked. “I’d rather work on my deck.” Brock had bought a house in an ex
clusive neighborhood that needed some work. He liked the idea of putting sweat equity into his home. Besides, the off-season could drive a guy nuts if he didn’t have a project—or five—going on. He’d cemented in new support beams last February and had slowly added the frame over the season. They were coming up on closing day, and then he’d be able to put some quality time into his house.

  “You can’t hold a 2x4 close on a cold night.” Ricky made a face. “I need a warm body and some luscious lips.”

  Brock laughed at Ricky’s puckered lips. “If that was all I was looking for, then fine. But you know I want more than a fling. I’m done putting myself out there and getting stomped on.”

  “So let’s look for the real thing.”

  “Come on. The girls we meet—” He thought of the women that hung out after the games. They were beautiful; there was no denying that. But they wanted the legend and not the man. “I’ve been down that road. They aren’t interested in settling down.”

  “Not all of them are like Julia, Tanya, or Carmen.” Ricky rolled the R in Carmen’s name, making her sound like something you’d pick up at a bakery.

  “Or Jamie or Catarina or Suzie or …” added Brock to get the point across. He’d dated his fair share of fangirls. The attention was flattering. He couldn’t deny that. But the moment he started to act human, allowed them into his life to see the real Brock, they became pouty—or worse, angry. The cycle was exhausting, and the thrills of a just-begun relationship weren’t enough to draw him in anymore.