Dixon smiled slightly. “Cold feet, huh? Well, I have it on good authority that can be cured.”
The tension began to ebb from Tucker at Dixon’s lighthearted attitude. “Think so?”
“Know so.”
Dixon reached around, grasped the remote, and clicked through the offerings. “Now, where were we? Sports or comedy?”
Tucker settled back into the soft cushions on the couch. “Comedy.”
“You’ve got it.” Dixon settled on a title, clicked the button, and turned back to face the television. “Just for the record, you throw a great date night.”
Tucker snorted. “Hard-on without a happy ending and all?”
Dixon grinned wickedly. “That’s just how it goes with dating. Friskiness without completion. All part of the game.”
Considering his words, Tucker smiled slightly. “I guess you’re right.”
“Yep.” Dixon took a drink of his water, then stretched his legs out.
Tucker did the same, only placed his feet on the coffee table.
Irony struck him. With his other dates in the past, they always ended up in bed. He now understood that wasn’t what he truly wanted or needed. He’d take the girl out to eat, then back for a night of hot sex. Shallow and unfulfilling. It had less to do with getting to know another person and more to do with scratching his itch.
Dixon was different. They hadn’t had sex since that first time, and Tucker was still having a ball. That said something. Something big.
Chapter 14
“TUCKER?”
Tucker glanced over at Banner who was posting the batting order on the clipboard in the dugout. “Yeah?”
“You’re in.” He gestured toward the diamond.
A slow smile crept onto Tucker’s face. “The whole game?”
Banner nodded. “Make the best of it.”
“Will do.”
Thrilled to have another chance to prove himself during a game, Tucker grabbed his glove and trotted up the stairs to the field. He automatically went to his spot, checked out the hardness of the dirt around second base before appraising the grass that separated the outfield from the infield. After all these years, he could get a feel for the way the ball would rebound off the earth or how fast it would scoot through the grass based on the weather and conditions of the soil.
“Welcome.” Wiley patted him on the back before walking over to his spot.
Dixon approached with a smile. “Nice to have you back.”
Tucker’s heart flipped with the sweet grin, the spark in Dixon’s eyes, and the genuine happiness on Dixon’s face. “Thanks.” He scratched at his chest. “It’s good to be here.” His spot. His team. His home. With the man who made the day that much brighter.
“Have fun.” Dixon patted him on the arm and turned.
“Hey, Dixon.” Tucker waited for him to face him before speaking again. “Care for another date night?”
Dixon beamed. “Absolutely. Any time.”
Even though Tucker knew Dixon wouldn’t turn him down, he still felt the surge of relief and thrill when Dixon agreed. Their first one turned out quite well, though they just hung out at his place and watched a movie. A little hanky-panky aside, it was a low-key date between friends. He wanted to step it up for their next one.
“What’s this about date night?” Graham asked from just off the mound.
Dixon arched an eyebrow at Tucker.
Tucker drew in air and let the cat out of the bag, so to speak. “Dixon and I are dating.”
Graham eyed them both, then nodded. “Good deal.” He smiled. “And welcome home. It’s always nice to have a great player at my back.”
Tucker’s spirit soared. “Thanks. It’s just day by day, but I hope to be a permanent fixture soon.”
“You need to be. Misery loves company after all.” Graham wiped at the sweat already building on his forehead.
Tucker chuckled. “I’ll bring in an ice truck if you can pull off a rout today.”
Graham’s eyes lit up. “It’s a deal.” He returned to the top of the mound.
Tucker moved to his normal spot, catching the ball thrown his direction for warm-ups. He immediately tossed it over to Ram, as was the usual sequence. Task done, he took a moment to take it all in—from the fans to the opponents and everything in between.
This is where I belong.
He’d missed being part of the defense, to be out on the diamond, catching balls, and forcing outs for the other team. It’s what interested him in the game initially. Not batting, but fielding. The quick reaction time, the unpredictability of where the ball might go. It all added up to be a fun game. Still was, now that he had gotten his head on straight. To play it with his best friends sealed the deal.
My team. My spot. My home.
He glanced over at Dixon. And my man.
The possessive comment came out of the blue but clicked just right.
Dixon met Tucker’s gaze and tilted his head as if in question.
Tucker simply smiled.
Fate is a fickle thing, but sometimes she does nail it on the head.
He winked at Dixon, then turned his attention back to the game.
“Batter up!”
Tucker focused on the guy coming up to bat, preparing himself by bending his knees slightly and rocking his weight from one leg to the other. A body in motion reacted much quicker than one standing still. In a game of split-second decisions, he needed that advantage.
The batter jumped on the first pitch, sending a line drive up the center of the field between Tucker and Wiley. Though Wiley dove, he couldn’t get there in time.
Moving closer to the bag, Tucker prepared to guard his base.
The next man up went to a full count before striking the ball to Wiley. Wiley palmed it on the run.
Tucker was already in motion, dragging his foot over the bag just as the ball arrived. He threw a laser to first even as the runner slid into him. Nothing new as all the opponents did the very same thing. If they toppled him over or interrupted his throw to first, they could prevent a double play. Thus, Tucker pretty much bet on getting knocked down a few times per game. Just another day in the life of a second baseman.
He picked himself up and dusted off his arms and chest.
“Nice job.” Ram pointed at him.
Tucker rolled his shoulders, loosening up more. He waved his glove, assumed his typical stance, and stared at the next batter.
The fun had just begun.
Two hours later, Tucker wiped at the sweat mixed with the dirt on his skin and clothes, turning him into a walking grime monster. He’d been in the dirt a few times, diving after balls or being dumped by runners. He’d slid into base twice, once after he hit a double, another on a steal from first to second. Add in a couple of grass stains from sliding after a couple of loopers and he carried plenty of colors to show for his efforts. Looking down at his uniform, he had his doubts that the clothes would ever come clean again. Good thing they received new uniforms each game. Otherwise, he might have a pile of rags to wear after only a handful of games.
He picked up the bat and hurried out onto the field, being the first up in the ninth inning. The score was tied at five apiece. The Predators had the last at bat and thus, the last chance to move ahead, or the game would continue into extra innings.
Considering they were playing against the Stars, Tucker and the rest of the guys wanted the game over with now, as long as it was in their favor. They were rivals with the Stars, and since that team treated Graham poorly in the past, all their current games were personal. No one wanted to lose to those pricks. Pride was at stake. Along with the need to drive home a point to the homophobic bastards.
He’d do anything to kick their collective asses on principle alone.
Tucker waited for the call from the ump, then took his place in the batter’s box. He concentrated on the pitcher’s glove, waiting for his hand to appear. The second it did, he prepared himself for that split-second decision to swing or no
t, and where. He let the first pitch go by without moving.
“Strike.”
Resetting, he made a mental note of the curve that just nicked the outside corner. Not his favorite position, especially down low, but he couldn’t afford to be extremely picky. The release point by the pitcher and the way the ball spun coming out of his hand was the hallmark for the curve ball. Tucker knew a fastball and a slider were also on the board for the guy. What he’d get next was yet to be seen.
The second throw sent him nearly to the ground to avoid getting beaned in the head.
“Shit.” He stood back up and wiped his hands off on his pants as he glared at the pitcher. In this level of play, accidents like that didn’t happen. Those pitches that put a guy down were intentional.
He snarled at the guy, flashing a fang.
The pitcher smirked.
Anger and adrenaline surged with the basic survival maneuver. He took a couple of deep breaths, gathered himself, and took a moment outside the box to get his focus once again. His teammates began rooting for him and urging him on.
He placed one foot in the back of the box, soon followed by the front one. A single, slow practice swing and he waited.
The pitcher gave a slight nod. Tucker felt more than saw the catcher get into his stance. A second later, the guy drew his leg up, reached back, then threw.
Tucker jumped on the pitch, extending his arms, and swinging with power. The crack and jolt of contact made him drop the bat and speed down the line to first. Along the way, he located the ball, in the left field corner, with a player darting after it. Tucker turned on the jets, sprinted for second. He glimpsed Banner out of the corner of his eye, waving him on. Not slowing in the least, Tucker rounded second and aimed for third.
Banner slammed his hands, palms down. Tucker didn’t hesitate, sliding into third base.
“Safe.” The third base umpire added in the arm motion with the word.
Tucker held his hand up, asking for time. As soon as it was granted, he regained his feet and tried to dust off this latest layer of dirt.
“Nice hit.” Banner clapped him on the back.
“Thanks.” Tucker removed his batting gloves and handed them to Banner for safekeeping until he exited the base pads as a runner.
Banner appraised him for a second. “You’ve stepped up your game.”
“A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.” Tucker offered up a small smile.
Banner grinned. “Keep up the good work.” He stepped back to the coach’s area.
Tucker kept one foot on base for the moment but took a couple of steps toward home once the pitcher had the ball in hand. With a fly ball, he could tag up and dash for home. Any ball on the ground would be an opportunity to go as well. He needed to be prepared for anything.
Milo stepped up to the plate. Banner flashed him the sign for a sacrifice fly. He took his position and swung at the first pitch. The ball shot up, but not deep enough as it never left the infield. The shortstop handily caught it, then stared Tucker down, daring him to try to make a run for it.
Not dumb enough to risk it, Tucker casually stood on top of the base.
He repeated the process through the next batter as Shorty struck out.
With two outs, Dixon came up to bat.
Tucker clapped his hands. “Come on, Foxy. You can do it.”
Dixon grinned at him, stepped into the batter’s box, and turned his attention to the pitcher.
Just a single. That’s all we need.
Two strikes later, doubts began to cloud Tucker’s optimism.
Dixon fought off bad pitches, fouling five in a row off. The count remained at two balls and two strikes. The next pitch became the most important of the game.
Crack.
Another foul ball. One that almost smacked Banner in the noggin.
Banner ducked in time, stood up, and kept the casual expression on his face as if nothing had happened.
Tucker retreated to third base just like before, shaking his head at Banner in the process. “Good duck.”
Banner glanced his way. “Do this long enough and it’s a survival skill.”
Tucker could understand that idea. Just like with Dixon playing third base, that hot corner, with hard hit line drives coming at a guy in a split second, reaction time made the difference between a hit and an out. Or, at other times, a trip to the emergency room.
He waited for the pitcher to get the new ball in his glove before easing away from the bag, just a few feet, nothing too risky in case the pitcher threw to third in an attempt to catch him off the base.
The pitcher glanced at him, then turned his attention back to the catcher. He spun and sent a laser to third.
Tucker dove back, his hand on the base in plenty of time to beat the tag.
Once again, he stood up, checked the pitcher and took a stride away from the base. It wasn’t just about the threat of stealing, it was an attempt to mess with the pitcher’s routine, his timing, his mindset. Anything to give the Predators an advantage.
The guy shook his head slightly, then gave a small nod. A second later, he threw.
The ball hit the plate and skipped over the head of the catcher.
Tucker put on the burners and shot for home as the pitcher darted in to cover home plate.
Knowing it would be close, Tucker threw himself feetfirst into the slide, keeping his forward momentum going with everything he had.
The catcher’s glove slapped him in the chest.
“Safe!”
The umpire’s gesture registered before the word did. The next thing he knew, Dixon pulled him to his feet and into a hearty hug. “You did it!”
Tucker beamed and returned the affection with a quick embrace. Tempted to place a kiss on Dixon’s lips, Tucker refrained. In private was one thing, in public totally another.
The whole team filed out to celebrate him stealing home. As the Stars filed off the field, Tucker and the rest of the guys took their own sweet time, waving to the crowd and patting one another on the back for yet another win, this one hard earned over their nemesis.
Tucker found Graham and gave him a big hug. “I owe you an ice truck.”
Graham grinned widely. “It wasn’t a rout.”
“Close enough. You’ve earned it.” Tucker clapped him on the back, found Dixon in the crowd, and walked with him back to the dugout. “Know how to get ahold of an ice truck?”
Dixon’s eyebrows furrowed. “Not really, but I’m sure there’s someone who does.”
An idea struck. “The concession stand. Be right back.” Tucker jogged up the steps and weaved his way through people until he found what he was looking for. “I’m looking for the ice truck.”
The worker blinked at him, then pointed. “Back door. Down the steps and take a right. He should be there for a while longer.”
Ten minutes later, Tucker entered the locker room. He caught sight of Graham and made a beeline over. “Your ice truck is waiting at the player’s exit. The guy said if you need him to bring in a pallet, just say the word.” Tucker held up his hand, which had a phone number written on it in ink.
Graham’s mouth fell open. “How?”
“I have my ways.” Tucker sauntered off to his locker. He stopped short when he spied Dixon stripped down with only a towel around his waist. The sight stole Tucker’s breath and ramped up his desire once again.
He’d faced this very same scenario numerous times, but this one seemed to be different. He couldn’t stop staring and knew the only thing stopping a bulge from showing in his pants was the cup that he presently wore.
At this rate I’ll be taking cold showers after all games and practices.
Dixon looked up and caught Tucker’s eye. He drew in a deep breath, grinned, and closed the distance between them. “Want to play ‘drop the soap’ in the shower?”
Tucker bit back a moan.
“Oh, hell. Someone’s in heat,” Mack said with a put-upon tone as he glanced around the room.
&n
bsp; “Oh, shit. Who this time?” Slade asked.
“Last time was damn horrible. Please tell me it’s not Trigger. We can’t go through that again,” Shorty responded.
Amused, Tucker watched Shorty disappear around a corner when Trigger growled menacingly at him and made a quick lunge.
“If it’s not the bears again and it’s not Ram and me, then who is it?” Wiley asked.
Several pairs of eyes landed on Tucker. He blinked back at them all.
Dixon chuckled.
The sound proved contagious. Tucker laughed with him before grabbing a towel and heading toward the showers.
“Aren’t you going to take your clothes off first?”
Tucker paused at Dixon’s question. “No way.” He didn’t elaborate, didn’t need to. The fire in Dixon’s eyes said he easily read between the lines.
We’ll get there. Just a little more time. The thought of being with Dixon no longer rattled Tucker. Instead, it filled him with anticipation and excitement. He wasn’t quite 100 percent ready to take the leap of faith as a couple of hesitations still held him back. But each day he grew more accustomed to the idea of his own bisexuality and his unrelenting hunger for Dixon. Each date put him one step closer to the mark.
Not to mention Dixon kept his motor simmering with a smile, a touch. Even his mere presence did the trick. Pheromones and mutual desire told the story.
Things were heating up between them. Big time.
But, this wasn’t the time or place to see how hot they’d burn.
Later, though. Definitely later.
Chapter 15
One week later.
PRACTICE WAS gradually coming to an end. They’d been at it since just after noon. Despite there being no game until tomorrow, Banner didn’t grant them a day off. Instead, he’d called a full practice to address a couple of “little blips,” as he called them.
Unhappy at the loss of a day off, Tucker still couldn’t get too upset. After all, Banner had been letting him play more and more. He’d even tossed a compliment in Tucker’s direction now and again.
Switch Hitter Page 16
