Intentional Walk: Dating Mr. Baseball Book 3

by McConnell, Lucy

  “You had a right to be a drag.” Her hands stilled on Tilly’s slower back and then started again. “Brayden was the same way, you know. He didn’t laugh, didn’t smile.”

  Tilly adjusted her cheeks against the pillow. He’d smiled at her in the hallway yesterday. A real smile. And he’d teased her—just like he used to. “He missed baseball.”

  “He missed you. And you missed him, admit it.”

  “I do. But it’s not like it was.”

  “So you two are back together?” The hopeful lilt in Elise’s voice wasn’t lost on Tilly. The three couples had been peas in a pod since Clover started dating Dustin. Now it was awkward, though no one pointed fingers.

  “No. We haven’t even spoken about what happened.”

  “Why not?” The pressure increased, and Tilly could understand what Elise meant about muscles talking. Elise’s muscles were saying she was ticked off.

  “Because I’m not sure what to think. I love him just as much as I did five weeks ago. I just don’t know where we go from here. He had some valid points about us not being together. I guess I need to figure out what I want.”

  “Okay, then. Figure it out.”

  Tilly laughed. “I’m working on it.”

  After the massage, Tilly stopped for groceries and then headed home. One positive about not having Brayden in her pantry was that she spent a lot less money on food. A negative was that she ate alone most nights. She blew out a breath as she pulled into their neighborhood.

  She slowed down when she passed Brayden’s, mostly because Natalie the Nurse was on his doorstep. Maverik waved her inside, and she all but pranced through the door.

  Maverik’s eyes landed on Tilly. She gunned her Jeep and bounced into her driveway, slamming to a stop before she crashed through the garage door.

  Maverik was at the back door of her car in a blink, pulling out groceries and tucking them into his arm. “Hey, baby girl.”

  Tilly melted. “Hey, Mav.” Between the two of them, they managed to carry the groceries inside in one trip. Yep, a lot less food. “Do you want a Dr. Pepper?” She kept them in her fridge for him. Even when he was out of town, she had one in there just in case of a Maverik surprise visit.

  “You know I do.”

  She handed it to him with a smile, and he settled in at the bar. He popped the top and took a drink, letting out a sigh that would rival any commercial actor with a soda. She smiled at his antics as she put cereal boxes in the cupboard.

  “Listen, baby girl. That nurse just keeps showing up—uninvited.”

  “I noticed.” She reached for another Dr. Pepper. The carbonated burn would be just the thing to dislodge the lump in her throat.

  “It doesn’t mean Brayden’s interested.”

  She challenged him with a look. “It means he hasn’t asked her to stay away, either.”

  “You could tell her to leave,” Maverik offered.

  She shook her head. “I’m not getting into it with Nurse Natalie.” Not like Brayden had gotten into her business by interrupting her date. She wasn’t mad about that. It was about darn time he stepped up. But interrupting her and sending a clingy nurse in a tight shirt home were two different ways of fighting for Tilly, and she needed him to do both.

  Maverik slumped in his chair. “She’s so annoying.”

  Tilly laughed. She lifted her can, and Maverik tapped his to it. “You’re welcome to hang out here until she leaves.” The soda churned in her belly. Yuck! If Maverik stayed here, then Natalie and Brayden would be alone in the house together.

  “Nah. I’d better go rescue him.”

  “Good luck.” Tilly saw him to the door and hugged him goodbye. She almost closed the door, but then remembered Brayden in the lobby at the hotel. He’d been waiting for her and Rowdy to get there. If he could do that, she certainly didn’t have to hide behind her curtains to see what happened once Maverik got back. She sat on her front porch and pulled her knees up to her chest.

  Right from the start, she’d believed Brayden was the man she wanted—no, needed—in her life. He’d been the perfect complement to her, physically and emotionally. She loved alpha males with big muscles and swagger. There was just something about a man who was comfortable in his skin and who could laugh at himself that drew her in. She needed an alpha because she was tough. She’d dated guys she knew she could run right over. If she had any desire to dominate a man, she could do it easily—but that wasn’t her style. A guy should be her equal, her partner.

  She’d kissed that guy in an elevator in Atlanta. He’d run his fingers through her hair, sending scrumptious shivers driving over her skin. He’d shown up in that kiss. Just as skilled as ever at taking her to the point of no return and then easing off, he’d brought his A game that night.

  But a woman couldn’t live by kisses alone. She needed more from him. She needed his alpha. The question was, could he be that man?

  A few seconds later, Natalie came out of the house, scowling. She looked up the street. Tilly smirked and waved. Maverik was awesome.

  Natalie made a rude gesture and climbed into her car.

  Tilly laughed it off. At least Brayden’s family was perfect. She never wanted his dad to change. She’d take him just the way he was. With a hop in her step, she went inside to finish unpacking groceries.

  Chapter Thirty

  Brayden

  Gunner was back up in the rotation against Colorado. Brayden paced the locker room before the game. He just couldn’t sit still. He’d given Gunner the go-ahead that afternoon to try his cutter in the game. He still refused to change his grip in the ball, but the pitch didn’t completely suck the way it was now. The punk may have some natural talent after all.

  Blake pitched the first six innings of the game. They were ahead by four and the crowd was riding high. From Brayden’s spot in the stands, where he could watch the game and Tilly, he had a great view of the mound.

  Gunner jogged in from the bullpen, all swagger and seriousness. Brayden liked to see that. No bluster, just knowledge that he had a job to do. Baseball was a game, but the fun that came from taking the mound in a game was different from wakeboarding or hiking or fishing. It fed the need to succeed that was deep inside every pitcher, the need to place yourself up against an opponent and come out the victor. Some at bats were harder than others. But when the batter walked to the dugout, there was a sense of satisfaction Brayden had only ever felt off the mound when he was with Tilly.

  Tilly looked amazing tonight. She wore a pair of baggy cargo pants and a Redrocks official polo shirt. Her hair was pulled up in a high ponytail, swinging with the sway of her hips as she made her way up and down the stairs. Man, she was beautiful. He was having a hard time concentrating on the game with her around. Tilly was a people person, making each of the ticket holders simultaneously feel like they were right at home and the elite of the elite. He knew that feeling from her all too well.

  Gunner went through the windup and released the pitch. A fastball. It sailed into Barns’s glove. The crowd cheered. Brayden folded his arms. This batter, Tetrick, always took the first pitch. Always. Gunner could have lobbed it over the plate like a pumpkin and Tetrick would have let it fly by. He didn’t even bother to watch it. He just took it and stepped out of the box, adjusting his gloves.

  Barns signaled the next pitch. Gunner shook it off.

  Brayden ground his teeth. “Come on, punk. Take the sign.”

  Barns was forty years old and on his last season. He was the best catcher Brayden had ever thrown to. He spent hours studying each batter. He knew what they could hit. He knew what they swung at and missed. He knew what they had for breakfast. Okay, maybe not the last one, but batters hated coming up against him. He was a legend. Brayden still wasn’t sure how he’d ended up on the Redrocks when he could be making three times as much on a team back east or even in LA, but he’d been too grateful to have the guy on his side to ask.

  Gunner shook off the next one too, and Brayden dug his hands into his h
air to keep from screaming across the stadium.

  Gunner finally saw a sign he liked, wound up, and Tetrick popped it out of the park, where it disappeared into the sunset. He took off around the bases, throwing his gloves to the first base coach and tipping his hat as he ran over home plate.

  Gunner’s head dropped.

  Brayden swore. He’d give anything to be able to walk onto that field and tell the punk what he needed to do to fix this. They were still up by three, but if Gunner didn’t keep it together, then it was going to fall apart fast.

  The next batter hit a double. The batter after that another double. Brayden smacked his hand against his leg. “Come on! Get it together!” he yelled.

  He heard a sharp intake of breath, and his eyes connected with Tilly’s. She must have heard him yell and turned to find him standing there in plain sight. He was usually so careful. Although how he heard her gasp from this far away was something of a mystery. Then again, he’d always been in tune with her. Always.

  She twisted her lips, and he knew she was worried about Gunner, about the game. He lifted both his hands, telling her there was nothing he could do about it—if he was full-time pitching staff, then yeah, he’d be in uniform on the field and could make something happen, but he couldn’t get to his guy.

  Brayden’s frustration mounted as the game trudged on. A knife twisted in his gut with each run Colorado scored. And when he caught Tilly watching him, he fought against the tidal wave of need for her.

  They lost by six. Gunner blew a four-run lead. Blake wasn’t going to be happy. Heck, if it had been Brayden that started the game, he’d ignore the guy for two days, because you just didn’t do that to your starter.

  The second the game was over, he made a mad dash for the private staircase that would drop him just outside the locker room. His feet thump-thump-thumped down the stairs. He barely registered that his neck didn’t hurt with the jarring.

  Juan intercepted him as he barreled through the doors and physically forced him down a side hall using his forearm as a battering ram. “Hey, hey, hey. You need to get it together, man. You can’t lose your stuff on him right now. He’s down. He’s, like, way, way down, and you can’t pile on. You know? But I know you know, because you’ve been there. Remember the game against San Antonio?”

  Brayden glared.

  “Okay, I shouldn’t have brought that up. That’s on me. That’s my bad. But you gotta know what your guy’s going through. You know?”

  Brayden relaxed enough that Juan took his forearm off his chest.

  “Give him a half an hour. Just a half hour to get through, and then you can have at him.”

  Brayden nodded. “I’m going into the dinner.”

  “Yeah, man, that’s a good idea. Get some food in your stomach and you won’t be so hangry. You know, like grrr.” He made his hands into claws.

  Brayden shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips. “Juan, I don’t even know what to say to you right now.”

  Juan gave him a thousand-watt smile. “That’s okay. You can thank me later. I got your back.”

  Brayden stalked into the dinner laid out by the clubhouse manager. Tonight was taco night. Great. He sat at a table alone and chewed every bite thoughtfully, biding his time. The half hour came and went. The room filled and emptied again. No one sat by him. Anger radiated off his shoulders, and they didn’t want to get singed. Blake didn’t eat with the team. It was a slight not aimed at anyone but Gunner, and they all knew it.

  He hadn’t seen Gunner come through the line, so he set out to find him. His need to chew the little punk out had calmed considerably, and he’d even come up with a bullet list of things they could work on. The first one being that he should LISTEN. TO. THE CATCHER!

  Okay, so maybe he still wanted to yell.

  He found Gunner sitting alone in the locker room. He had a bat over his knees and was rolling it with flat palms, his eyes unfocused. That was not what he needed to be doing. He needed to get his head into the right space. He should have done that on the mound. If he couldn’t do it there, he should have done it in the dugout. And if he couldn’t do it there … well, then there was no point in having a conversation.

  “’Sup.” Brayden sat next to him.

  “I already heard it from Coach Wolfe, all right?” He set the bat on the floor and grabbed a shirt off the hook in his locker.

  “Did he tell you to listen to the catcher?” Brayden started through his list.

  “Yeah, a couple dozen times.”

  “Shoot. That’s what I wanted to yell at you about.”

  “Ha. Ha.” Gunner put his arms in the sleeves and pulled the shirt over his head. He glanced at the door and then narrowed his eyes at Brayden. “You know, I was doing just fine until you decided you had to fix me.” He put air quotes around the last two words.

  Brayden shook his head. He was not going to argue Gunner’s abilities or lack thereof. “We should be focusing on what you can fix for next time.”

  “That’s what I’m telling you.” He picked up the bat and threw it into his locker, creating a noise that could be heard at the back of right field. “You’re always trying to fix me. Why can’t you just let me throw?” he screamed.

  Brayden got to his feet and went toe to toe with Gunner, yelling in his face. “Because you’re just barely enough to get here, but I want you to stay!”

  “No, you don’t!”

  “Then why am I here? If I didn’t care, I would have walked out after that first day.” He filled with the knowledge. He actually cared if Gunner made it. “You’re a pain in my butt. I can hardly stand to talk to you, and yet all I think about is how to get you to throw better. It’s like I’m obsessed—”

  “What is going on?” Tilly yelled over the two of them as she stormed into the locker room. Brayden glanced around to make sure there wasn’t some guy in a towel in the corner. Not that Tilly would care that much. She’d never looked at another man like she wanted him. Not even Rowdy, now that he thought about it.

  She pushed her way between him and Gunner and shoved them both back a step. Brayden placed his hand over hers on his chest, captured it, really. The connection between them was as strong as ever.

  Gunner looked back and forth between the two of them. He suddenly glared at Brayden. “Me or him!” he demanded of Tilly.

  “What?” Tilly flipped her head to look at him, her hair flying out and then dancing into place. Brayden tickled the ends with his free hand, and she shivered. He smiled but whipped it away before she flipped back to him. “You’re fighting for me?”

  Behind her, Gunner nodded his head in an overexaggerated motion, silently telling Brayden to say yes.

  Brayden opened his mouth and closed it again. He couldn’t bring himself to lie to Tilly, even if it meant getting her back. Which he wanted to do. He loved her. There had to be a way to make this work between them. “Tilly, I feel like I woke up in Atlanta. Really, I was in some kind of brain fog. I don’t think they screwed my head back on right.”

  She pulled her hand away with a scowl. “That’s a horrible joke.”

  “But look, I’m joking about it. That’s a huge step for me. I’m starting to put my life back together, but I … Is there even a chance for us?”

  Tilly cupped her elbows. “I—” She glanced over her shoulder at Gunner. He gave her a cheesy thumbs-up and a smile to go with it. She rolled her eyes and faced Brayden again. “How can I trust us again? Trust you not to fall apart on me?”

  Brayden channeled his inner Juan and started talking. “I’m not asking you to take me back. I can’t ask that right now. I just want to know if there’s a chance. No matter how slim.”

  She dropped her arms. “You hurt me. And you were only thinking about yourself. You aren’t the guy I thought you were. The Brayden I love was the most selfless man I know.”

  He ran his hand through his hair, feeling all sorts of honesty vibes in the air. They weren’t uncomfortable. What was uncomfortable was that the words hit
home. “Every time I looked at you, I saw guilt in your eyes. I just kept thinking that you were only there because you thought it was your fault.”

  Gunner wrapped his hands around his throat and silently acted like he was choking.

  Tilly’s face went red. “I did feel guilty. Still do, on some level. Does that mean we can’t be together?”

  “I don’t want to be with someone who feels like they have to be with me.” Brayden cringed at his words. They were true, but they came out barbed.

  Tilly’s nostrils flared. She slowly turned her back on him.

  Her deliberate turn gave Gunner a chance to smooth over the you’re an idiot motions he was making behind her back at Brayden. He smiled like a toy doll.

  “Meet me after the game tomorrow,” she told him.

  “Um?” Gunner’s eyes went wide and he held up both of his hands as if a speeding train were about to bowl him over.

  “Don’t think about it—just show up.” She stormed away. “Some men think too much.” She threw her arms in the air as she left.

  Gunner sidestepped out of Brayden’s reach. “Dude. That did not go how I thought it was going to go.”

  Brayden pinched the bridge of his nose. “You didn’t throw the game tonight to try and get me and Tilly back together, did you?”

  Gunner’s face clouded over. “She’s right. You think too much.”

  Brayden eyed his unwilling protégé. He thought back to that moment after the home run when Gunner’s chin hit his chest. There was no way Gunner did that on purpose.

  Gunner took one step closer. “Since I’ve already butted in, I’m just going to say it.”

  Brayden narrowed his eyes.

  “She’s got guilt—so what? We all have baggage. My dad was a drill sergeant. A real drill sergeant. I don’t remember him saying anything to me that he didn’t bark like an order.” He tugged at his collar. “Which might be why I have a slight problem with authority figures.”

  Brayden laughed. “Just a little one.”

  Gunner nodded. “Baggage. But you took me on anyway. She’s way better-looking than I am, and I don’t care what you teach me to throw—I’m not kissing you.”