Behind the Count: Cessna U Wildcats Book Two

by Readnour, Kimberly

  And as the commissioner speaks, Arizona State’s third baseman is exactly who gets announced. This routine goes on: the commissioner announces the draft pick, the camera focuses in on the lucky bastard’s reaction, and the commentators give a little background of the guy’s stats. Wash. Rinse. Repeat. Each pause before the announcement acts as a vise to my stomach. A long-ass three days for sure.

  The commissioner steps to the podium again for the twentieth team to pick—the San Francisco Giants. I hold my breath.

  “The San Francisco Giants pick Braxton Smith from Cessna University.”

  The entire table erupts. Elation surges through me along with a pang of jealousy. I’m happy for my best friend, I am. I knew he’d be picked again this year. He’s too good of a player not to be. But damn, if I don’t want the same validation that comes with earning a spot.

  Round one ends without any more picks from our team. There’s a break before the second round starts. Expectations are still running high. I know Dalton wants this badly, but I don’t know about Garret. He has always said from the beginning he never had intentions of going pro, but things change. And he certainly has.

  Shannon’s arm sweeps down and knocks her phone to the floor. “Oh, crap.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll get it.” I reach down to grab it, but the darn thing bounced just out of reach. I duck underneath the table, but when I raise up, everything happens so fast. My chair gets jostled, which propels me forward. Pain shoots across my head and races down to my shoulders as the sharp, metal leg brace drives into my forehead.

  “Oh my God, I’m so sorry, sir,” a frantic voice says.

  I swipe the phone from the floor and sit back up. A small gasp escapes Shannon’s mouth.

  “Fuck, Noah, are you okay?” Garret asks.

  “You’re bleeding,” Shannon says. She grabs an unused napkin and places it on my forehead.

  “I’m okay, really. Scalp injuries tend to bleed more. It’s nothing.” I downplay the injury, but my girl won’t have anything to do with it.

  “Let me look.” She lifts the napkin and cringes. “You have a small gash. Let’s go to my room. I have a first aid kit.”

  Of course, she does. She’s always prepared. I take over holding the napkin and apply pressure. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”

  “Are you okay? Let me look.” Mom’s voice pulls me from Shannon, and I have to stop from cringing. All the adults congregate around me to look at a scratch. This is beyond ridiculous.

  “Mom, I’m fine. It’s nothing.”

  “The cut isn’t too deep. No stitches, at least,” she murmurs more to herself than me. “You need to get this taken care of, though. Go with Shannon and get bandaged up.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” I scoot from the table and stand. With a glance at my friends, I nod. “I’ll be back.”

  Shannon doesn’t say anything as we walk out of the bar and head toward the elevator.

  “Well, this is embarrassing. I’m taken down by a table.” I hand her the phone.

  “It’s not your fault.” She holds up her phone. “It’s more like mine. I dropped the damn phone.”

  The elevator doors open to an empty cart. I tug her inside and up against me. “Maybe, it’s my ploy to get you alone.”

  Her eyes shine up at me. “I think I could do without the theatrics.”

  “Fine, I’ll wait until I’m no longer bleeding to have my way with you.”

  “I like the sound of that. It’s going to be a long week with the parents around.”

  “That it is.” In more ways than one.

  When we settle in Shannon and Cara’s room, she pulls out the first aid kit from the suitcase. I laugh as I sit on the edge of her bed.

  “Who travels with first aid kits?”

  “Don’t laugh. You should be grateful I had the foresight.”

  “I am grateful.” But I’m grateful for her being in my life more than anything else. She drags out her supplies. When she stands near me, I rest my hands on her hips. She dabs the alcohol wipe on my wound, and I flinch, biting back the curse word.

  “Sorry, but I have to disinfect it. I don’t have any peroxide.”

  “It’s okay.”

  She bites her lip as she places the Steri-Strips on the gash. Her concentration transports me back to when we were little. “Why are you always mending me?”

  “Because you have shit luck?”

  My chuckle causes her to pause, and those beautiful blue eyes stare directly at me. A current of want flows through my body. Now is definitely not the time for certain urges. I ignore what my body craves and draw her closer to me. “Nah, my luck is pretty awesome. I have you.”

  There’s much I want to say, but how do I tell this girl she’s all I need without sounding like a patsy? My future is so uncertain that I have nothing to offer her. I dismiss all rational thoughts and place my lips on hers. She wraps her arms around my shoulders. I tilt my head and deepen the kiss, the bulge in my pants getting tighter. Her fingers fly to my shirt, but I place my hands on hers to stop her.

  “What’s wrong?”

  I smile softly at her puzzled look. “We haven’t exactly discussed our future plans.”

  “You want to discuss it now?” Her eyebrows raise, matching the pitch in her voice.

  “Yeah, but I don’t have anything to offer you.” If it wasn’t for the fact she’s still in school, I’d ask this girl to marry me right now. But when I do pop the question, I want the moment to be more special than in some hotel room with blood running down my face. All I can do for now is promise her a future. “After I graduate, I still want us to be together, but I can’t guarantee I’ll even have a job.”

  Her face softens. “I’m not worried about you not working, Noah. No matter what happens, you’ll have employment.”

  “Maybe I can find work close by until you graduate.”

  She straddles my lap, her knees dipping on the mattress. “Why don’t you work on finding my mouth?”

  My hands land on the curves of her ass as I make promise of her demand. I know we need to join the group, but she feels too good in my arms. I deepen the kiss right as my cell alerts an incoming text.

  “Ignore it,” I say, my voice garbled. I find her lips again, but both our phones start ringing. “What the heck?”

  She climbs off me and checks her phone. “It’s Cara.”

  I swipe the phone from my pocket, and sure enough, Braxton’s name flashes across the screen. “Shit, I better get this.”

  “What’s up?” I ask.

  “Do you have the MLB app on?”

  “No.”

  “You big clumsy ass. You missed your name being called.”

  My eyebrows shoot up. The thrumming in my chest is so loud I can hardly hear anything else. “What?” I glance down at the phone as if it’s going to tell me anything.

  “The Dodgers, man. They called your name. They fucking called your name. We’ll be rivals.”

  “Holy shit! You better not be fucking with me right now.” My hands start to shake, but this time, I know the tremors are from nerves.

  “I wouldn’t do that. Get down here. Your mom is about ready to go get you.”

  I glance at Shannon’s swollen lips. No way do I want Mom up here. “We’ll be right down.” I hang up, forgetting to ask about Dalton or Garret.

  “What’s going on?” Shannon asks when I hang up.

  “I got called.”

  “Oh my God. Which team?”

  “The Dodgers.”

  Her face crumbles. “You’re going to make me wear Dodgers gear?”

  “You can wear whatever you want or nothing at all. As long as you stick by me, I’m good.”

  “You know I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Between you and now being called, not to mention we’re getting ready to play in the College World Series, I feel like the luckiest man alive.”

  “I’m the luckiest girl alive, so it’s fitting.”

  “So you’ll stand by m
e during this. When I sign with them, and you know I will, there isn’t a guarantee I’ll make it pro. My future is still iffy. But I know I want you in it.”

  She gives me the widest smile. “I love you for you, not because you’re a baseball player.”

  “I know, but I want to promise you a beautiful future.”

  “And I’m good with just having a future.”

  “God, I love you. My future belongs to you.” And I mean that in every sense possible.

  “Good because I’ll take it.”

  * * *

  To find out information about the next book, Full Count, and to read about Dalton’s backstory, just flip the page for more details.

  * * *

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  Don’t miss Garret and Lexie’s story Full Count, book three 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 this winter in Caught Looking. Enjoy!

  Swinging Strike Excerpt

  Cara

  How bad can prison be? I mean, seriously. The jail cell can’t be smaller than the dorm I’ll be calling home next week. And like the residence halls, they dish out food I don’t have to cook, and they provide a recreation room and workout center. Hmm, the latter isn’t much incentive. I’m not into lifting weights. Nope, I leave that burden to my brother. He’s the athlete of the family. I tap my fingers against my lips, pondering my options. I suppose the workout center would be necessary. I’ll need to get tough. Build my endurance or suffer being someone’s bitch. Oh my God, I’m totally going to be someone’s bitch!

  “What the hell are you thinking about? Your face is all contorted.”

  My gaze flicks across the white, linen-covered table and lands on a pair of matching brown eyes. They stare back at me as if I’ve lost my mind. Perhaps, I have. I straighten in my seat and clear my throat.

  “I was wondering how bad prison life would be.” I bite back my grin as my brother’s eyes widen. His mouth opens, but nothing comes out. Wow, I’ve rendered him speechless for once.

  “Do you plan on committing a crime?” The evenness of Mia’s tone makes her sound like a seasoned detective. As if this type of questioning is asked every day. I freaking love that AJ and she got together. Her sassiness is the perfect complement to my brother’s cockiness.

  “Perhaps. If I can’t come up with something.” I push my overpriced, half-eaten manicotti away and fall back into my chair. The food at Dida’s Italiano Ristorante is good, but I’ve lost my appetite. School hasn’t even started, and the assignments are swallowing me whole.

  “What are you talking about?” The wrinkled brow and gruffness to AJ’s tone is a stark reminder of home. He’s always been protective of me but nothing in comparison to Mom. If it were up to her, she’d bundle me up in bubble wrap and never let me leave. That level of protection is what drove me to have the worst year of my life.

  “It’s this assignment. Remember when I told you I was going to be Cessna University’s latest gossip columnist?” I ignore AJ’s dumbfounded look and continue when Mia nods. He wouldn’t have known. When I shared this great news, AJ was on his way home from a long road trip. “Anyway, I talked to Alan, the editor-in-chief-slash-professor, and he wants something written by the first week of school. How am I supposed to come up with something that quickly? School hasn’t even started.”

  “What gossip column? What does that have to do with becoming a veterinarian? Did you switch your major again?”

  “No, I didn’t change.” I roll my eyes at my brother’s accusation. Veterinarian school has always been the end goal. Not that he would know. “If you remember, my minor is in communications. Since I didn’t choose my minor until transferring last semester, I had to take what classes were available. My adviser talked me into this class, which means working for the newspaper.”

  Getting into veterinarian school is extremely competitive. With the hit my grade point average took, I desperately needed to beef my transcript. I picked communications to learn how to write grants. At the time, the plan sounded ingenious. Now, not so much.

  Mia pauses, her fork, filled with lobster risotto, dangling midair. “You have to write an article before school even starts?”

  “Uh-huh, and I don’t see how that’s possible. What kind of dirt can I dig up from home? It isn’t like a story is going to land in my lap.” I wave my arms in the air as my voice rises. “This is why I want to strangle my editor. Personally, I think Alan hates me. He holds a grudge for some reason. I wouldn’t be surprised if he assigned this impossible task in an attempt to set me up to fail.”

  AJ’s hardened expression makes me shrink back into my chair. I know that look. He wears it when he thinks I’m being overdramatic. But I’m right this time. AJ’s not around to witness how the guy treats me.

  “I’m sure that’s not the case. He doesn’t even know you. How about watching football practices? Maybe, you’ll see something there to write about.”

  “The rumors don’t have to be bad, do they?” Concern lines cross Mia’s forehead. “I mean, I can’t imagine this being a good morale booster.”

  Her question makes my stomach churn. When I first was assigned this project, I thought it’d be fun. Exciting even. But the more I think about it, the less thrilled I become. I’ve been on the receiving end of rumors back in Philadelphia. It sucks.

  “I brought that point up when Alan called, but he dismissed my concerns rather quickly. I think he has something against athletes. Maybe he was the last kid picked for teams during gym class?” Sort of like me. Whatever his excuse, the whole thing leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I pick up my nearly empty glass of water and frown. The waitress hasn’t checked on us for a while now. “If I was still working here, this glass wouldn’t be empty.”

  “Because you were such a stellar waitress?” AJ deadpans, and Mia about chokes on the bite that made it into her mouth.

  “I wasn’t that bad.” I know he’s teasing, but his words hit close to home. I may not have been horrible, but I wasn’t that good either. It takes a lot of skill and patience to wait on the public. I have tolerance in spades; it just happens to be for the four-legged variety. “Besides, you’re the one who didn’t want me working, remember? The reason behind me quitting and all.”

  “And I stand by what I said. You need to enjoy these last two years of undergrad.” His sincerity softens my heart, if only momentarily. “Have you talked to Mom lately? She was complaining the last time I talked to her.”

  “Not lately. I’ll call her tomorrow.” I grab my glass to wet my dry throat and curse the emptiness. My relationship with Mom has been strained for the last couple of years. AJ’s my go-to guy, but I hate it when he slips into the moderator role.

  “Sorry, everyone,” Lexie, my best friend and ex-work buddy, says as she enters our private room carrying the much-needed water pitcher. “It looks like I’ll be your waitress now.”

  “What happened to the last girl?” I ask, but it’s pretty easy to guess.

  Lexie’s lips flatten to a thin line, and she clears her throat before speaking. “She’s finding another source of income.”

  “Seriously?” I give my brother a pointed look. “I told you Mr. Monroe is impossible.”

  “Fine, fine.” He laughs, putting his hands up in mock defense. “All I know is, when you were working, I walked up to one pissed-off customer and a red-faced manager.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s not my fault the woman married an asshole.” The pitcher I had been carrying accidentally spilled on her, dousing the entire front side of her shirt with ice-cold wat
er. I had tripped forward when her husband’s hand landed on the back of my thigh. “It also wasn’t my fault she wore a thin white shirt with a thinner bra.”

  Everyone laughs but me. I still feel bad and don’t blame the lady for being embarrassed—she could’ve cut glass with those diamond-hard nipples that would’ve made her a clear winner in a wet T-shirt contest—but she didn’t have to be so mean. She demanded they fire me on the spot. Before I followed Mr. Monroe to his office that night, my brother waltzed into the restaurant. His presence was all it took for the ice queen to melt. Turned out, she was a huge Dodgers fan. Go figure. A few sweet words and an autograph later, my job was secured, and Monroe’s “word” was nothing more than a meaningless warning. My brother, the starting catcher for the Dodgers, saved the day. Or saved me. Again.

  I suppress a sigh and fake a smile, trying desperately to ward off the tingling sensation sweeping up the back of my neck. I steer the conversation back to my current problem. “I’ll go to campus on Monday and find out when the football team practices. Maybe, I can find something worthy to write about.”

  “Sounds like a good plan. The bigger question is… Are you going to be biased when it comes to the baseball players?” AJ quirks an eyebrow, knowing full well what the question does to me. I don’t take the bait. Let’s face it, I’m not.

  “Are you going to win and make it to the playoffs?”

  Mia laughs as AJ grumbles. “We’ll make it.”

  “You can’t afford to lose any more games, Gonzalez,” I chide.

  “I know. We’ve got this.” After the rocky start to the season, his team sits with a one-game advantage ahead of the Giants for the wild card race. And yes, the wild card is the team’s best hope at advancing. Arizona sits comfortably on top of the division with a six-game lead. Mathematically, the Dodgers aren’t eliminated, but it would take a miracle. The Diamondbacks are tough this year.