Slow Pitch

by Amy Lane

  He had to be careful, he thought. A T-shirt left there, a spare pair of briefs—those could lead to….

  What? That he’d think of you? That he’d want you there over the week? That he might have a reason to push some more, get the thing he wants most of all?

  That you might be that thing?

  Because no kid noticed their dad’s T-shirts—Pat’s kids would probably not notice if their father wore his underwear on the outside of his pants. But Tenner would know.

  And that would be enough.

  Ross waited until Ten was downstairs on his way to make coffee before he took the sleep shirt he’d worn that first night and put it in Tenner’s hamper. He was wider in the chest than Tenner, and a couple of inches taller, so he wore a size larger. Tenner would notice.

  The thought of Tenner wearing his shirt sometime in the next week would have to sustain him.

  They both seemed preoccupied, in morning news mode, as they drank their coffee and had a breakfast of cottage cheese and fruit. Ross looked up from the newsfeed on his phone to see Tenner looking at him, teeth worrying his lower lip. He looked away when Ross caught his eye, and Ross went back to his phone, feeling a little empty.

  Maybe that’s why, as they were both heading for the door, Ross stopped at the threshold.

  “Did you forg—”

  Ross kissed him, hard. Hard enough to make Tenner’s mouth swollen and shiny, hard enough to muss his perfectly pressed shirt and break some of the gel on the back of his hair. Hard enough to make him scrabble at Ross’s button-down, knead his back, and grind against Ross’s thigh.

  Hard enough to make a groan of frustrated arousal and pull back, as he probably should have, because now was not the time.

  “What are you doing to me?” Tenner asked, leaning against the door and closing his eyes.

  “Don’t forget about me after the game, okay?”

  “It’s just until Sunday,” Tenner mumbled, but it sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

  “Yeah, but then it’s just until Wednesday again. Don’t put me in a box, Tenner. Remember that kiss. Wear it on your skin.”

  Tenner let out a humorless laugh. “You dumb jock. Do you think I have a choice?”

  Tenner took his mouth this time, a little softer, but still intense intense, and Ross was the one who pulled back. “Sunday. Text me if you can’t make it. I’ll stop by, okay?”

  “Yeah,” Tenner murmured. “Piper’ll look forward to it.”

  “Good. If I can charm her, the rest of the relationship is a piece of cake.”

  Tenner snorted, and maybe it was that little bit of humor that got them both out the door.

  “HEY, BATTER batter, sha-wing, batter!”

  Ross tried to keep up the energy during the game, but he had to admit he was a little tired. He was tired, and Tenner’s team was playing someone else, and it wasn’t as much fun to bait anyone other than Tenner when they were trying to hit the ball.

  The ball came flying out to right field, and Ross fielded it easily. Three up, three out. He trotted toward the dugout.

  “Seriously,” Tenner said on the other side of the fence. “Is that all you got? That’s weak shit right there. You’d better be hitting a ton if you’re not even going to put your heart into the shit talk.”

  Ross grinned, some spark coming into the game. “Don’t you have a team to captain? A kid to pick up? Something else to do?”

  “God, no. I have a team to lead into last place! That I can do! And I’m on the way to pick up the kid. I just wanted to see you strike out first.”

  Some of Ross’s swagger came back. “Gimme a kiss for luck and I won’t strike out.”

  Tenner’s eyes narrowed, and Ross could see him weighing the odds as to whether a simple kiss for baseball would get back to his ex-wife.

  “How about I don’t give you a kiss for luck, but I sit back here and admire your ass. And you hit the damned ball anyway because you’re good at it?”

  “If I get a home run, will you give me a kiss?”

  “Get a home run and I’ll think about it.”

  “God, you’re demanding.”

  “Ross, get up here. You’re first at bat!” Patrick called, and Tenner winked.

  “You ain’t seen demanding yet. Get your ass up there and hit!”

  Ross trotted to the plate with some go in his step. The team they were playing was good but not great. If Tenner had been batting, with his ferocious concentration, the game would be over by now. They were in the bottom of the last inning and that home run Ross was boasting about would tie the game.

  He’d known this before he’d gone into the chain-link dugout, but here, crouching over the plate, the eyes of the guy he’d woken up with that morning on him, he felt a sort of thrill he hadn’t felt since high school.

  And then he heard Tenner’s voice, taunting, ridiculously arrogant, and completely adorable.

  “Hey, batter batter, sha-wing, batter!”

  He took a deep breath, ignored the pitcher, and kept his eye on the ball. Up, up, up, down, down, swing!

  And it sailed up over the center fielder’s head, clanging off the fence in challenge.

  Ross was running before it even passed over second base. He rounded first as the center fielder ran out to snag it, and hit second as the guy turned to throw. Could he get there? Third? His team screaming from the dugout, Tenner’s voice loudest among them, spurred him on. Go! Go! Go! Go! It was going to be close. He saw the ball launched into the air when he only had a few more steps to get to third, and slid in under the baseman’s glove.

  His team was applauding on the sidelines, Tenner leading the cheer, and as he stood and dusted himself off, he gave a wink before turning to face home plate.

  The next batter hit him in, and as he jogged over to the dugout afterward, his team rewarded him with back pats and lots of “Jesus, McTierney, showboat much?”

  “As much as I have to!” he told them.

  He went to his gear bag and turned toward Tenner, who was shouldering his own bag and making to leave. “Wait!” he said through the fence. “What about that kiss?”

  “That wasn’t a home run,” Tenner told him. “You’ll have to wait until next week.”

  As Ross’s jaw dropped, Tenner gave him a saucy wink and sauntered off, like he knew Ross would never fight free of his team in time to get to him.

  But Tenner was waiting for him in the parking lot, leaning back against his vehicle, grinning with such self-satisfaction, Ross couldn’t even be mad.

  “You think I still want that kiss?” Ross taunted. Of course he did.

  “Just waiting to see if you’d come and collect when you didn’t deliver.” Tenner’s eyes danced, but he licked his lips.

  Ross wanted him all over again, but he sobered. “You need to go,” he said softly.

  “I do. I, you know… didn’t want to leave you.”

  Ross closed the distance between them and cupped his cheek, lowering his mouth for a hard, powerful kiss. Tenner opened for him, giving as good as he got, and for a heartbeat, the two of them were lost.

  Pat’s wolf-whistle broke them out of it, and Ross leaned his forehead against Tenner’s. “Sunday.”

  “See you then.”

  And then Tenner got in his car and drove away.

  Ross turned back around to Pat. “Is the bag of bases still on the field?” he asked gruffly. “I can go get it.”

  Pat regarded him steadily for a moment. “Yeah. I’ll drive around and get you after I load the back.”

  Ross strode toward the dugout, wondering when Pat was going to co-opt the kids’ wagon to do this shit instead of relying on forced labor.

  He grabbed the bag and had swung around when the lights clicked off, the sound hitting him just a moment before the darkness.

  He stood still, letting his eyes adjust, and was forced to deal with the fact that his chest ached.

  It was a date.

  It was a date to follow up another date.
>
  It was sex, which happened on a date.

  He’d done this before. He’d done it several times. Dating was pleasant. Sex was a helluva lot of fun. There was no reason, no reason at all, to feel put out because his date had to leave and go be a family man. Tenner had never lied to him, not about his priorities, not about how out he was, not about any of it.

  Pat’s headlights cut through the darkness, and Ross made his way to the minivan, pausing to throw the last bag into the back with his duffel, which he mentally made a note to take to the laundry the next morning.

  “So,” Pat said as Ross got in.

  “What?”

  “It’s what I’m asking you. How was it? Your sleepover. Or date. Or whatever?”

  “Uneventful,” Ross lied. “Ate dinner, watched television, got to be grown-ups together. No serial killers. No drama.” No clowns or a trapeze.

  “Yeah, Ross?”

  “What?”

  “You want to convince me it was no big deal, you gotta not look like someone kicked your puppy when he leaves.”

  “I’ve known the guy a week. Eight days. It’s fine.”

  “Sure it is. When you hooking up again?”

  “Well, I’m helping his team practice again on Sunday. He’ll have Piper with him. There might be dinner and video games afterwards.”

  “Totally platonic,” Pat said, to clarify.

  “Well, it’s his daughter, Pat. He’s not out to her. I don’t get to expect more. Jesus, not after a week.”

  “I know that. But think about it. He’s letting you talk to his daughter as a friend.”

  Ross swallowed. “Yeah.”

  “If you think this means any less to Ten-Spot than it does to you, you’re really not paying attention.”

  The tightness in Ross’s chest eased. “I always pay attention,” he said softly.

  “Good.” Pat started whistling on the way home, batting Ross’s hand away when he tried to turn on the radio.

  “You’re going to make me listen to that all the way home?”

  “It’s happiness, my boy. Don’t shit on my mood.”

  He was whistling “I Dreamed a Dream,” and Ross just let him go.

  “YO, MCTIERNEY!” Ross looked up from the plans he was assessing to see Jimmy Dowd, his boss, bearing down on him at full speed.

  “Yo, Jimmy!” Jimmy was a big guy, flushed face, shiny dome, heart of gold. He’d been the one to recruit Ross for Green’s Hill in an attempt to align the company and the city planning commission with solid goals for water and energy conservation throughout the area. Green’s Hill was a conservancy agency based out of Foresthill and they did everything from raising political awareness of environmental exploitation to helping companies change their protocols in order to help conserve the environment.

  Ross liked Jimmy very much, and he sort of loved the little, eclectic bunch of people that made up Green’s Hill conservancy.

  “You done with those plans yet?”

  Ross grimaced. “No,” he said shortly. “Jimmy, there is no way this project isn’t going to impact the local wildlife. See this?” He pointed to a wavy line. “That’s the goddamned fish hatchery right there. That thing was implemented for no other reason than to help keep the salmon population steady, and this proposes blasting a quarter of a mile away. What’s that going to do to the salmon, when half the canyon falls on their heads and they can’t swim or breathe?”

  Jimmy grimaced. “Well, shit and fuck me.”

  “I’ve done the first already today, and no, thank you, Jimmy, you’re not my type.”

  “What is your type?” Jimmy asked, not flirting, really, but in a broad-stroked attempt to get to know him.

  “Well, right now, it’s a single father who likes to play softball.” Ross let out a soft sigh. “He might be my type for a while.” But there was the inevitable.

  “Well, you want to come back, don’t you?” Jimmy asked. “Because seriously, man, Mr. Green wants you here bad. The development in this area over the last twenty-five years has been hard and fast. We’re going to have flooding problems during the next big rain, and people keep wanting to go solar when they live on top of a hill and wind might do them more good.”

  Ross took a deep breath and nodded. He thought of Tenner in his arms that first week—of Patrick’s little dig with “I Dreamed a Dream.” This wasn’t so much for a certain irritating computer engineer/baseball player (sure it wasn’t) as it was for the knowledge that staying with his sister this time around had made him part of a community. (Tenner was part of that community, right?)

  “I need to see how things are going in the Amazon,” he said soberly. “I got a couple of texts from the outfit I’m working for down there, and it’s looking like they might need me more sooner than later.”

  Jimmy hissed through his teeth. “We can hold a position for you,” he promised as if this had been something he’d already discussed with Mr. Green. “We can even give you two months leave a year to go out and do field work. Just let us know, okay? We’ll need an answer sometime before you leave, preferably in the next couple of weeks.”

  Ross nodded thoughtfully.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I’ll… I’ll do that.” He looked at the plans again and then looked outside at the bright spring day. “Hey, Jimmy, you want to go walk this area? I think we need to get a real idea of what they want to do here. I have the feeling this ‘recreational area’ is going to be as environmentally friendly as those theme parks that put roller coasters next to wildlife.”

  Jimmy grunted. “You mean actually walking? In the sun?” He rubbed his bald pate. “Seriously?”

  Ross grinned. “It’ll be worth it. I’ve got a sun hat in the Tahoe.”

  Jimmy gave a heavy sigh and started to unbutton his suitcoat in anticipation of the heat outside.

  “Yeah, whatever. If you’re going for two months, I’m going to have to know what the hell you were talking about when you were here. Let’s motor.”

  It was a solid answer—he was game and ready to try.

  Ross thought about Tenner again, and thought that maybe he could be no less game.

  When the Clowns Come Home

  “I’M SORRY about this, Ten,” Nina said, looking sincerely apologetic.

  “Next weekend?” Tenner grimaced. “Are you sure you want me here? I mean, I can bring Piper back early, no problem. You know that. They’re her grandparents.”

  “Yeah, but they’re your parents, and they asked that you be here this time.”

  Tenner grunted. “Did they say what this was about?”

  Nina shook her head, and both of them looked down the hall to where Piper had run to pack her pajamas and books. “They… they still think we’re getting back together,” she murmured. “I keep trying to explain that it’s never going to happen, and your mom’s like, ‘Oh, sweetie, the Lord works in mysterious ways.’”

  “Obviously,” Tenner muttered, because how else would you explain a boy who never had a sexual thought about girls in his life being born to Mr. and Mrs. Conservative Christian Law Enforcement.

  Nina snorted a little, and she risked a look down the hallway. “And the thing is, I was thinking about what you said at dance class. I… I was mad, so mad, when I had my lawyer draw up that agreement, and….”

  “You had a right to be,” Tenner said softly. He got it. He’d promised her happily ever after, and had, to her eyes, wimped out.

  “I really don’t want a bunch of strange men running in and out of your house—”

  He opened his mouth to protest, but she held up a hand.

  “But it occurred to me that you probably feel the same way, and never once did you accuse me of whoring around. Because you trusted me with our daughter. And… I’m thinking about it, okay? I want you to know that I trust you with Piper too. I know whatever you do, you’ll want what’s best for her.”

  Tenner nodded. “Thank you. I do. And about that—” He was just about to mention Ross coming to dinner Sunday when
Piper came running down the hall.

  “Daddy! Daddy! Look what Mommy got me!” She held out a small, perfectly tied baseball mitt and a softball much smaller than the ones Tenner’s league played with. “She said I could practice with you and Ross!”

  He gave Nina a full-blown smile of gratitude. “That’s really kind of Mom,” he said. “Thanks, Nina.”

  “She’s been talking about him,” Nina said. “Pat’s brother-in-law? I guess he plays on your team.”

  Tenner had to make himself not respond with a double entendre.

  “Actually, he plays on Pat’s team, but my team needed some practice, so he stopped by to help.”

  “Well, Piper loved his company, and you know, Pat and Desi are good people.”

  “The best,” Tenner confirmed, and Nina’s wistfulness pulled at his heart a little. He’d gotten Pat and Desi in the divorce, hands down. Unfortunately, Nina’s family hadn’t been the warmest people either. Tenner had gotten the only functioning set of parents between the two of them, and he’d never wanted her to feel alone. “Uh, would you like me to invite you to their next get-together?”

  She shook her head. “No… it would be awkward, you know? I’ll just keep my friends, and you keep yours.” Most of her friends were out of town—she saw them on business trips, but very seldom on her weekends home.

  “But Nina, they’d be fine with it—”

  “No, Ten.” Her look turned almost fond. “But it’s sweet of you to ask. You’re a good guy.”

  And Tenner really cursed Piper’s timing there, because he would have told her about Ross, at least that Ross was the guy he wanted to date, except Piper was right there.

  “When I can be,” he said gallantly, and she gave him a bittersweet wink.

  “Of course. C’mere, Piper. Give Mom a hug. You ran off without one last time.”

  Piper gave her a cursory hug and grabbed Tenner’s hand. “So, we can play baseball on Sunday? And gymnastics tomorrow? And what else? Can we see a movie?”

  Tenner looked over his shoulder and saw Nina’s forlorn expression. One of their biggest arguments had been about how Tenner was the worst Disneyland Dad in the history of the species right after the divorce. He hadn’t known what to do about it then, but now, when he had hope that she might accept him for who he was, he thought he might have an inkling.