SWINGING STRIKE: Cessna U Wildcats Book One

by Readnour, Kimberly

  “How can you do that when you’re anonymous?”

  “I can write a retraction or something.” I snap my fingers. “That’s what I’ll do. I’ll talk to Alan about it even though I hate talking to that man. I don’t think he likes me too well.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “He’s always short with me. I don’t know. Maybe he didn’t like my adviser making him take me on.”

  “You know, you have issues with bosses.”

  “It’s not my fault.” My high-pitched tone turns a few heads. I drop my voice. “But one of them is no longer an issue.”

  The blender whirls in the background as my words settle in between us.

  “I still can’t believe you quit on me.”

  “I’m sorry, but it’s for the best. I can’t afford distractions while going to school. Besides, my brother never liked me working there anyway. And don’t get me started about Mom.”

  “You never told me how Monroe took the news.”

  “I think he was taken aback because he’d been itching to fire me. He did get one final dig in though.”

  “What’d he say?”

  “He told me my brother’s reputation will only get me so far in life. I have to take responsibility for myself. Oh, and the classic I’ll never make it far in this world if I don’t start applying more dedication to my job.”

  “Harsh!”

  “Right? At least I had the last word. I stared straight into his face and said, ‘News flash, working at your stupid fancy restaurant isn’t my dream job. I do apply myself. It’s called studying my ass off to make the grades.’” That made me feel better, but quitting left me unemployed and dependent on my brother once again. As much as I hate being dependent on him, AJ’s right. I can’t afford to work. Veterinary school is highly competitive. I need to focus on my grades if I’m going to make the cut. But knowing all of this doesn’t ease my guilt.

  “That’s rich.” She shakes her head laughing. “I bet his face looked as pinched as when I put in my resignation.”

  “Get out! You quit? When were you going to tell me?”

  “Now. It’s not a big deal, but I have to concentrate on my senior design, and that’s more important than a job with a pissant boss. Besides, it wasn’t fun without you there anyway.”

  Lexie is studying architecture and has to design a building from the ground level. The project spans across two years and requires a partner. She met Garret freshman year, and they agreed to a partnership. They’re nothing more than friends, but they’ve developed a close bond. He’s the reason she knows the baseball team so well.

  “Shit, who’s Monroe going to yell at now?” I ask.

  “He’ll find more unsuspecting fools. Could you imagine living with that asshole?”

  “No. Speaking of assholes”—I glance at the time on my phone—“I better get going if I’m going to talk with Alan. I think he leaves in an hour.”

  “You may want to wait until tomorrow. According to Garret, Braxton plans on going to the head department today and demand they tell him who Mel G. is.”

  “Crap. I’ll definitely wait until tomorrow then.” It’ll have to be first thing in the morning before the others arrive. In the meantime, I’ll have to act as if nothing happened if I run into Braxton. I glance over at Isabella, but she’s wearing her earbuds not paying us any attention. “Ugh, he’s so arrogant.”

  “For being upset over having his reputation slandered?”

  My head snaps back to Lexie whose eyes sparkle with mischief. Even though she’s teasing, the punch to my stomach feels real. There’s so much truth behind her statement.

  “No, I mean his overall cockiness that I’d want anything to do with him. Did you know he accused me of being a stripper?”

  “What?” The way her eyes widen in surprise deepens my guilt from my exaggeration.

  “He called me Pole Girl, which he may be referring to the pole I ran into, but he dropped enough hints alluding to me being a stripper. Then, when I called him out on it, he denied wanting to ask me out. He may not be a double-dating douchebag, but he’s seriously full of himself.”

  “There’s no denying his confidence level, but he’s not as bad as you think.” She holds her hands up in defense when I toss her a look. “Seriously, I think you two got off on the wrong foot.”

  “No. Not at all. I don’t think there’s any thought that goes through his brain that isn’t about himself.” Those types of guys are all the same—wrapped in a bundle of gorgeous—with Braxton being no exception.

  “Maybe, but he’s consuming your thoughts too.”

  I grunt in protest, but she’s right. The entire time we’ve been sitting here, Braxton Smith has dominated ninety percent of our conversation. That ends right now. I’m not losing myself to another self-absorbed guy. No matter how gorgeous his eyes are or how he seems to consume my every waking thought. But I will make what I did right. I’ll just wait until tomorrow morning when I’m in the clear.

  “Be ready by eight thirty, tonight.”

  “You weren’t serious about going out, were you?”

  She blinks and stares innocently at me.

  “No, I don’t want to go.”

  “Come on. I let you get by with staying in last semester, but that’s not happening anymore. I own your ass this year, and we’re going out.”

  “But there’s a—”

  “No,” she interrupts. “Barton’s is a sports bar. The game will be televised. You have a fake ID, right?”

  “Of course.” Everyone I hung around with back home has one.

  “Then you’re going. Besides, it’s Wiener Wednesdays. You’re not missing out.”

  “What the hell?” I bark out a laugh. “Do I even want to know?”

  The corners of her mouth lift as she wiggles her eyebrows. “It’s a smorgasbord of wieners and sausages, baby. They come in various sizes and flavors.”

  I look toward the heavens for help, but even God himself won’t guide me on this one. “Guess I’m tasting wieners while watching the game.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  Chapter Six

  BRAXTON

  Sweat drips along the side of my face as I grind out the last rep. I knew getting back into conditioning would be a bitch. I shouldn’t have been so lax the last month.

  “What’s the matter, Smith? You’re sweating like you just got caught with your dick in the preacher’s daughter’s mouth,” Garret says as he walks by.

  I shoot him a glare while Noah glances over at me. Noah remains quiet, but he knows better than anyone that I’ve been slacking these past few weeks. Hell, ever since summer league finished, I hardly stepped into the gym. No way will I admit that to any one of these bozos. I am captain after all.

  “You need to worry about yourself, Cartel. Don’t think I didn’t notice you lowering the weights by twenty pounds.” That observation earns me a few chuckles from the surrounding teammates.

  “My biceps strain is still sore. Doc said to not stress it.” Garret settles in the leg press machine.

  “Uh-huh.” I lean forward on the bench and wipe a towel across my forehead. The entire team, minus one player who happens to be our late-arriving roommate, is at Renald Field. Our mandatory team workout sessions are grueling. Cessna University spared no expense when rebuilding the baseball fields. Not only did they give us one hell of a locker room, but they provided a weight room with all the training equipment that matches the pros. Adjacent to the weight room is a lounge with televisions and the necessary electrical devices to watch any game footage we desire. Of course, it all has to be monitored. We’re only allowed so many hours to view game footage. Stupid rules.

  “And thanks for the surprise in my locker.” I direct my statement toward Garret. He shrugs a denial.

  “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Deny all you want, but I know you too well.” When I arrived at the locker, some wiseass had placed an old McDonald’s Hamburglar
toy on the top shelf. The masked figurine stands in his black-and-white-striped suit with his arms spread open. But the assholes didn’t stop there. They taped a red heart over the necktie with my name scrolled across the center in big, bold letters. Garret’s a resourceful bastard, I’ll give him that. Where the hell he found this toy in one day is beyond me.

  “You’ll never prove it.”

  “Heartburglar.” Another teammate coughs the word into their hand.

  “Guess it’s better than Quick Draw McGraw,” some other asshole says. Laughter erupts around the clubhouse again as the guys cackle at my expense.

  Fucking Mel G.

  “I am not quick on the trigger,” I say through gritted teeth. At this rate, my teeth are going to be nothing but nubs. I’ve never had to defend my stamina before. One falsely written article and I’m suddenly known as a speed fucker? What the hell?

  “Guys lay off. We all know the article was bogus.” Noah, the ever serious one, grunts through a few more reps and then places the barbell down. He turns to me, dismissing the last remaining jeers. “Did you figure out who Mel G. is?”

  “No, not yet. You can bet your sweet ass I’m going to see Alan today.” Like right after practice. I’m sick of this shit.

  “Dalton should be here tomorrow,” Noah says, switching topics.

  “It’s going to be strange having someone we barely know live with us. I wonder what his story is?” Garret asks.

  “I don’t know. Let’s hope he’s half as good as Rick.” It still hurts to think about our loss. Dalton transferred at the start of school last year. It was his freshman year, and since Coach redshirted him, he didn’t play. He’s aloof, and even though he practiced with us, he never made it a point to get to know anyone. Jock housing is reserved for juniors and seniors, not sophomores, but since we had room, the coach thought it’d be good to bond with him. I guess he wants us to become one big cozy family.

  Whatever. If the guy performs, I’ll welcome him. Coach has stated his confidence in him by declaring him the first base starter. I suppose if he’s good enough to turn Coach’s head, we should be fine, but he has some big guns to fill.

  “His stats from summer league were impressive, and since he’ll be living with us, we’ll get to know him better,” Noah says.

  Not wanting to cast doubt, I agree. A captain needs to promote team camaraderie after all.

  An increase in female chatter echoes down the hallway, and I internally groan. We’re about to be invaded by Cessna’s dance team. Normally, I don’t mind. I mean, who wouldn’t mind working out with delicious eye candy? But there’s one slight problem.

  “Hey, Braxton,” the problem says.

  “Isabella.” I try to keep my tone even, but her stunt the other night has caused me nothing but trouble.

  “Stealing any hearts tonight?” Izzy walks by in her spandex booty shorts and sports bra. The smirk she’s wearing is telling.

  “You know as well as anyone that’s a bogus rumor.”

  She sits on the mat, legs extended, and goes into a hamstring stretch. Isabella’s beautiful and captain of the dance team. We became friends freshman year. We tried hooking up one drunken night, but when we kissed, it felt more like kissing my sister. Not that I would know what that feels like, but there certainly wasn’t any chemistry between us. Besides, she knows I’m not looking for anything long-term. To quote my dad’s adage, I can’t afford that type of distraction. He drills those words into me every chance he gets. Since neither of us is into each other, Izzy and my relationship stays friend-zoned. Right where we both like it.

  “Good thing since you’d be a little...quick.” Her eyebrows quirk.

  That, she wouldn’t know since I never touched her outside of a kiss, but she’s heard the rumors about me. I’ve had no complaints.

  “I’m not even justifying that with an answer. Besides, this is all your fault. Did it even work?”

  I ran into Isabella the night before moving my sister here. I’m from Northern California, so my parents had us stay at the Ritz Hotel. I ran into Izzy at the café attached to the lobby. She was a little frantic about her estranged father being in town for one night. She avoids him like the plague, but he wanted to meet her. She needed an excuse to get out of it, so I agreed to be her date for the evening. All I had to do was take her to the restaurant and act like we were a couple. I thought it was a stupid plan, but who was I to judge. When my sister needed me, we cut the evening short.

  “It worked like a charm. I can’t thank you enough.”

  “I’m glad I could help.” I did mean that even though my generosity got me into this mess.

  Her face scrunches in thought as she positions her body into the crescent pose. “I’d like to know how they got the deets. Whoever it is made some pretty big assumptions.”

  “Yeah, I’m not sure. I plan on finding out though. Once I figure out who the hell Mel G. is and what his beef is with me.”

  “If you need help, let me know. I feel awful.” She bites her lip to suppress a grin.

  “Yeah, I can tell.”

  “I’m sure your reputation is still intact.” Her upper body shakes in silent laughter as she goes into a simple backstretch.

  “You better watch it. You’ll end up hurting yourself,” I say dryly and then take off toward the showers. Once the warm water beads into my muscles, I try to relax. My thoughts keep going back to everyone’s assumption that this will tarnish my reputation. I can’t imagine anyone believing some bogus article written for a college campus, but what if they’re right? I still don’t know if the article is behind Cara’s coldness toward me. I find it hard to believe, but she’s pretty adamant about disliking me. There has to be some underlying reason. I’m fucking adorable. Damn it.

  Frustrated, I wrap the towel around me and head to my locker. Taped on the outside of the door is my headshot. Someone photoshopped a black mask across my eyes. The headline reads, “WANTED: Mr. Heartburglar. May answer to Quick Draw McGraw.”

  “Fucking comedians,” I mumble under my breath and rip the photo down.

  Noah and Garret burst out laughing. I crumple the picture and toss it in the trash where it belongs. I dress in haste and exit without saying a word.

  “It’s a joke, Smith,” Noah says as I stalk toward the hallway.

  “Yeah, well, I’m going to find out who the fuck this Mel G. is.” I push through the door and don’t look back. Leave it to Alan to even run this article. The asswipe has hated me since freshman year. But the chicken-shit weasel is going to squeal if it’s the last thing I do. I check the time and wince. He more than likely has left for the day.

  And that’s confirmed when I make it to the building and find the doors locked. Great, I think sarcastically. I’ll have to meet him first thing tomorrow morning.

  Chapter Seven

  CARA

  “Admit it. You like this place, and you’re glad you came out.”

  I glance at the shadowbox hanging on the wall near the bathroom corridor and bite back the threatening grin before turning back to Lexie. “Fine. You win. I am glad we came. Seeing my brother’s college jersey is freaking awesome. You didn’t tell me this bar is geared toward CU sports.”

  “There needs to be some surprises.” She shrugs. “I knew you would like it.”

  My phone pings with another text from Mom. “Except I shouldn’t have sent a pic to Mom. Next time I have the bright idea of sending evidence I’m in a bar, shoot me.”

  “What is she texting now?” Amusement laces Lexie’s voice, but she doesn’t realize how embarrassing this all is. I can’t do anything without Mom’s interference.

  “She’s warning us not to leave our drinks unattended.” I lean back against the vinyl booth, a slight slump to my shoulders. What more can I say? She makes a valid point, considering the craziness AJ went through a couple of years ago when his drink was spiked. He wasn’t the intended target, but it threw him for a loop. It was a wake-up call for me, though. I’m diligent about
never leaving my drinks unattended.

  “At least she cares.”

  I let out a breath. “That she does.” A little too much. I text back the appropriate response when a husky voice speaks out.

  “Hmm, someone’s enjoying the sausage fest.” The owner of that deep masculine voice steps to the table, and I easily recognize Lexie’s friend Garret.

  Lexie’s pale skin tinges pink as a hint of pleasure crinkles the corners of her eyes. She drops her polish sausage to her plate and blinks her eyelashes at him. “It is rather tasty.”

  “You haven’t tasted anything yet, sweetheart.” He laughs when her pink tinge turns scarlet. “Scoot over. We need to iron out a few things on our project before beginning.” He bumps her hips as his large frame dips into the booth.

  The next moment, another tall, lean muscled guy joins the table. He reeks of total athleticism, and if I gambled, my bet is on him being a starter for CU’s baseball team. A tight ache grips my chest at the prospect of Braxton being here. I’m not mentally prepared to see him, especially after learning he wasn’t on two dates. I scan the area around us, but he’s nowhere to be seen. A hint of disappointment tugs my chest and catches me by surprise. I blink in confusion, wondering where that feeling stemmed from. No way do I want him to be here.

  “I’ll grab a round from the bar and be right back.” The tall guy glances down at me and smiles. “What are you drinking?”

  “Oh, I’m good.” I glance down at my empty Moscow mule and sustain a groan. Although I’m sure this guy is legit, Mom’s warning comes to mind. “I have an early appointment tomorrow morning. I’ll need all my wits.”

  “Cara, this is Noah and, of course, you know Garret.” She waves her hand to me. “This is Cara.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Noah tips his head to me and flashes another smile. “I’ll be right back with those drinks.”

  “Okay, so I was thinking if we…”

  As Garret delves into their project, Lexie mouths an apology. I brush her off because I’m a big girl who can certainly take care of herself. I check the score of the game and smile. The Dodgers lead by a run. Satisfied, I scope the bar, my gaze straying to Noah. The bar is filled with many guys, but none of them are Braxton. An unsettling feeling lingers in the pit of my stomach. Maybe, I’m sick? I can’t possibly want to see him.