“There are still two more days left.”
“But I got called early last year.”
“Weren’t you still undecided about accepting the offer, anyway?”
I grunt. Lexie isn’t trying to be condescending, but she makes a valid point. I shouldn’t be this upset if I wasn’t going to take them up on their offer. But still, I want to be able to make a choice.
She scoots behind me and wraps her short legs around my waist. Her hands start working magic on my back, kneading and massaging. Christ, that feels good.
“You want to know what I think?”
I hang my head to expose the nape of my neck. Her fingers feel incredible as they snake their way up and knead away the tension. “What?”
“You already have your answer for when they call.”
My hands grip her thighs.
Is she right? Can I really go after my lifelong dream? I think about the direct shot my gut took as disappointment slammed into it after the last team announced the lucky bastard’s name. That feeling was real. Raw. I won’t be satisfied career-wise unless I’m playing on the field.
“You’ll be okay if I take my shot?”
“Garret, I’ll stick by you no matter what. But your ass better choose your dream.”
“My dream.” My dream is to be with her as a family, but I better not say that. Although we’ve only been officially together for a few months, it feels like years. We’ve been friends for a long time. I can’t think of anyone I’d rather spend my time with than Lexie and my daughter. But it’s too soon to say any of that. “What if I said my dream is to accept the draft?”
“I’d be proud of you, draft or no draft. But I’ll be ecstatic when you get called.”
She said when not if. She’s so damn supportive of me. “That means we’ll be separated.”
Her hands still for a moment but then resume. “It won’t be ideal, but it’s also not permanent. We’ll get through whatever life throws at us.”
That’s true. I’ve already endured so much. “You’ll be willing to visit me?” I don’t think I could go an entire season without seeing her and my daughter.
“On my days off, I’ll come to visit. I can even bring Olivia if you want.”
I smile at that. “You are the best. You know that, right?”
“Yeah, I know, but I’m glad you’re on board.”
I whip around until she’s lying on her back with my body on top. “You’re damn straight I’m on board.”
“How about you ride me, instead?”
“That can be arranged.”
We’re up by three runs in the top of the ninth when Sean heads to the plate. One more out, and we’ll take the field one last time as a team. I don’t know how to feel about that. I’m going to miss playing with my teammates, especially the three guys I’ve spent living with for the last two years.
“Have you decided what you’re going to do?” Braxton asks as we peer out to home plate.
A small smile crosses my lips. I know precisely what Braxton is referring to. The call. The Arizona Diamondbacks called me on day two during the fourth round. Halle-fucking-lujah. And Lexie was the first person I couldn’t wait to tell.
“I’ve already accepted it.”
Braxton flashes me his pearly whites. “I knew you wanted to play.”
Sean swings and smacks the ball. We watch it sail into foul territory and bounce in between the rows of seats. A couple of people dive to pick it up as Noah trots back to second base. He’s had one hell of a series. Getting drafted to the Los Angeles Dodgers reenergized him. His bat has been on fire.
“Yeah, I just didn’t know how badly until I thought it almost didn’t happen.”
“We’ll make it to the majors. Wait and see. At some point in our career, we’ll be playing against each other. And I mean all of us.” His gaze strays to Dalton, sitting on the far bench by himself. My heart clenches. Dalton was the only one of us who never got the call.
We watch as one of the teammates says something to him, which deepens Dalton’s scowl.
“Shit. I better go talk to him.” I step back and sneak one last look at Sean.
“I’ll hang back. I don’t think ganging up on him would be smart.”
“For someone who’s about to win back-to-back college championships, you don’t look happy.” I settle on the bench beside him as Sean tips another ball foul. Dalton grunts. I wait for a beat before speaking again. “I know it sucks. There’s nothing I can say, but look at it this way. You’ll get your degree, and then you get drafted next year.”
“Spare me the lecture. I already got an earful from Coach telling me about my attitude.”
I nod, knowing that was the problem. I don’t know how the scouts can tell, but they seem to pick up on disturbances. It’s like they have a sixth sense on that shit.
“You’re one hell of a player, Boyd. I’m going to miss playing with you.”
His jaw sets tight as his eyes cloud. Then, he speaks so low I almost miss what he says. “I can’t go back home.”
“This summer?”
He jerks his head in agreement, not making eye contact. His hands grip his glove tightly. Dalton never speaks of his home life. He’s like me when it comes to that shit, so I assume he has his reasoning just as I did. So, I know this moment is serious.
“Do you have to? Is there some relative you can stay with?”
“Nope. And I don’t have the money to stay here until summer league starts. But I can’t take another summer at home.”
I don’t ask why. Dalton dons the same browbeat look that Livia wore. Although, he seems more wary. “Look, I’ll be leaving. If you don’t mind little kids, you can stay in my room until you head to the preacher’s house. When you’re done, you can head back to my home.”
“That’s asking an awful lot. I can’t do that.”
“Believe me. My mom won’t care. She’d love the extra mouth to feed. Not to mention, Miller could use an extra buffer from Olivia.” That earns me half a smile. “She’s hovering over the poor guy.”
“I don’t know.”
“It beats having to drag everything to North Carolina and back.” Sean finally strikes out, ending the inning. We stand. “You don’t have to answer me right now, but think about it.”
“I appreciate it.”
“Not a problem. Now, let’s go win this thing.”
Before running out to my position, I turn to the stands right where my little girl, girlfriend, and parents sit. I meet Lexie’s gaze. She blows me a kiss and winks. Then, she whispers something to Olivia, who whips her head toward me. Olivia’s little hand waves back and forth, matching the speed of hummingbird wings. Okay, maybe not that fast but a close second. She’s uber excited to see her daddy on the field. Wait until I’m in the majors. I give them a salute and take my position.
We’ve got this game in the bag.
As the third out is made, winning is precisely what we do. I immediately glance at my little girl and girlfriend. Olivia has her arms wrapped around Lexie’s neck, and they’re cheering with my parents and the rest of the crowd. The future belongs to us—me, the woman I want to marry, and my baby girl. And that future shines brightly from where I stand. That’s the last thought I have before getting tackled by my friends. What a way to end my college career.
Thanks for reading Garret’s journey. Will Dalton find Cassie and be ever be called to the majors? What does the future hold for this group of friends? All of these questions will be answered in the exciting conclusion, Caught Looking.
Haven’t read the prequel, On Deck? Grab it for free and learn about Dalton’s backstory. Just flip the page for more details.
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Don’t miss Dalton and Cassie’s story Caught Looking, book four in
the Cessna U Wildcats series. To receive updates, go to website www.kimberlyreadnour.com and join my newsletter. As a bonus, you will receive a free novella, On Deck, for your enjoyment. This is a prequel for Dalton and Cassie’s beginning that occurs the summer before he attends Cessna U. Their story will resume in Caught Looking. Enjoy!
Second Chance Hero Excerpt
Lacey
CITI FIELD STADIUM
Zach Pritchett. The one name I never want to see on my itinerary. Ever. But I’m not stupid and know the possibility of our paths crossing exists. I just refused to believe they ever would. I don’t care that the position I accepted places me in press conferences with professional athletes. There are one hundred and sixty-two regular season games. With a five-man pitching rotation, the probability of being in the same room with him is rather low. But as today proves, my odds are not favorable. Then again, when have they ever been when it comes to that man?
I close my eyes and try concentrating on the surrounding chatter. The buzz of well-acquainted sports journalists—the deep masculine chuckles and feminine laughs from people comfortable being here—fills my ears.
I’m so jealous.
Although, I shouldn’t be. I’ve put in as much, if not more, legwork as any other person in this room. I’ve earned my spot to be here.
As far as Zach goes? I’m seated in the fourth row toward the edge and highly doubt he’ll see me. Of course, I could shrink farther in my seat and hide behind the row in front of me. No matter what I do, I’ll still be nervous.
God, five years have passed, and my heart still can’t handle facing Zach. No way am I prepared to talk to him.
“Excuse me,” a masculine voice says.
A young, dark-haired gentleman with eyes the color of a mocha latte stands to my right. I’d place him around my age of twenty-seven.
“Sure.” I shift my legs to let him pass and try to pretend being here doesn’t freak me out.
Mocha Latte Eyes sits next to me and opens his briefcase. As he rifles through his belongings, I continue to stare straight ahead and act casual. But it’s almost time to start. Any second, I’ll be in the same room with the guy who shattered my heart.
Tiny sweat beads form on my forehead, and I casually raise my hand and dab with my fingers to soak up the evidence.
Sweet Jesus. I’m totally freaking out.
Dangerous thoughts infiltrate my mind. Stupid ones like what if Zach notices me and shows no signs of regret? Or worse yet, doesn’t recognize me. Or remember what we shared. I mean, my body has changed. I’m no longer that perky, slim college girl he let go. I’m not sure my fragile ego could withstand him passing over me. No matter how much I hate him.
The ball in the pit of my stomach tightens as I straighten my back. I’m so not ready to face him. Why, of all the assignments my boss gave me, do I get stuck in the same room as my ex?
New plan. Let everyone else ask the questions while I absorb the answers.
And believe me, there will be plenty of material to sort through with all questions directed toward Zach. After all, he swept into town and pitched a no-hitter against my beloved team, the Mets.
Asshole.
The man can pitch. Always could. Even in college. And what’s worse, his success proves we made the right choice to end things. That he made the right choice. I never agreed to end anything, but I didn’t fight to keep him either. Although, I tried once. Three months after he left me, I went to see him. A sharp pain slices through my chest at that memory.
Damn it. I’m not strong enough for this.
“Are you new to the Times?” Mr. Mocha Latte Eyes asks.
Jesus, girl. Quit comparing this guy to a latte. I must be in dire need of coffee. Or something stronger to relax my nerves.
“Not exactly, but this is my first assignment.”
I’ve been with the New York Times for almost five years now. It’s taken me awhile to get to the sports journalist position, and even though it wasn’t what I had intended to do, I’m grateful for this opportunity. But I’ll keep that information locked tight. No stranger needs to know my life story. No one does.
“I’m Brayden Hicks with CBS New York.”
He extends his hand, and when I shake it, his hand is warm and soft. Not at all like the callused ones I prefer. Like pitcher’s hands.
“Lacey. Lacey Stark. Pleased to meet you.”
“Pleasure’s mine. If you need anything, I’m here to help.”
“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.” I end with a warm smile and turn my attention to the front. Brayden seems nice, but I can’t focus on any other guy right now.
“Okay, we’ll have the coach answer a few questions, then open it up for the one you’re all waiting for, Zach Pritchett,” the media relations guy announces.
Brayden doesn’t say anything else and faces forward himself. My stomach churns. This interview will not be good.
I swallow my insecurity and watch as Coach McFay steps to the platform. A moment later, the blond-headed star pitcher waltzes in behind with his confident swagger. He always was a cocky bastard. That hasn’t seemed to change.
As Zach extends his arms to pull the chair out, his white shirt sleeves fit snug against those massive biceps. His six-foot-three-inch frame settles into the seat, and I can’t help but gawk. Damn, he’s filled out nicely since the last time I saw him. All lean muscle, he looks good. All hints of boyish features are long gone, replaced by a strong, chiseled jaw masked with stubble. He never did shave on the days he started.
I bite my nail as my focus shifts to his perfectly thinned lips. Oh, those lips that dominated every kiss. Spearmint floods my senses from the memory of that perfection, his greedy tongue claiming me. He always tasted of spearmint. Does he still?
No. No. No. I will not allow my thoughts to stray there. Zach Pritchett crushed me when he left, and I never fully recovered. I will not revisit that memory.
“What was the morale of the dugout?”
“At what part did you let the no-no enter your mind?”
Questions are flung at Zach, but he answers each one with the grace of a seasoned player. I’m not surprised; he’s always been good at everything he does.
Zach smiles and brings his large fingers to his chin. My body betrays me as my nipples harden and press against my bra, yearning for those big hands to caress my skin. Among other things. He sure could fuck. He brought my orgasms to a whole other level, and no one since has matched his skill. Or even come close.
That pisses me off more.
“What does the last out of a no-hitter feel like?”
To hell with these bullshit questions. How do you think Zach felt? He felt freaking fantastic. I need a question that gets to the heart of the matter. I’m sorry, Mr. Pritchett, but I know exactly what to ask. Your physical appearance and performance may have improved, but you haven’t shed your little habit. And I’ll be the one to call you out on it.
“Mr. Pritchett,” I shout. “Do you expect the pain in your left shoulder to be a lingering problem?”
Zach’s head snaps toward mine, our gazes locking.
Warmth travels through my bloodstream and heats places that haven’t been alive in months. Crap. I think I just messed up.
Acknowledgments
Thanks again for taking the time to read my work. I appreciate the time taken out of your day to read Garret and Lexie’s story. I had Garret’s backstory in mind before I even wrote book one. I even had Miller as the hero, so he needed introduced in book one. I’m excited to have this book written and hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed creating him.
Once again, thanks to every book blogger, bookstagrammer, and ARC team member. Every share, post, review, and overall hype from the cover reveal to release day helps so much and means the world to me.
Another huge thank you to my beta readers, editors, and PR team. Your continued support means so much to me. I appreciate all of your hard work and efforts.
Next in line is Dalton and Ca
ssie’s story. Will they find each other again and if they do, will they get their HEA? Find out in the exciting conclusion, Caught Looking.
About the Author
Kimberly Readnour lives in the Midwest with her husband, two children, and a very fluffy cat.
Having a true passion for romance and HEA's, she took the leap from the young adult genre to romance and never looked back.
Unexpected Love, book two of the Unforeseen Destiny Series, hit #1 Amazon Kindle bestseller in the Medical Romance. Her series, the Bad Boys Redemption, has spent many weeks on the Amazon's sports fiction bestseller's list.
Kimberly worked as a Registered Nurse for fifteen years before hanging up her stethoscope. When she isn't running her own business, you can find her tucked away writing.
Contact me at:
kimberlyreadnour.com
[email protected]
Also by Kimberly Readnour
Cessna Wildcats Series:
Swinging Strike
Behind the Count
Full Count
Caught Looking
Bad Boys Redemption Series
Second Chance Hero
Swing for the Fences
Bottom of the Ninth
An Unforeseen Destiny Series:
Impossible Love
Unexpected Love
The Mystical Encounter Series:
Visions
Deceptions
Vanished
Full Count (Cessna U Wildcats Book 3) Page 21
