Hitching the Pitcher

by Rebecca Connolly

Remy struck out, ending the inning.

  Up again, Sawyer moved to the mound, taking his cap and mitt from Farrabee as he ran them out to him before moving back to second.

  He looked behind home again and saw Erica once more. She was looking right at him, and she smiled, that dimple appearing again.

  He smiled back, then looked at the batter coming to the plate.

  Right. Pitching.

  Forcing his smile back, Sawyer waited for Mace’s signal, nodded at it, then came set and pitched.

  The ball soared and dropped behind second, Creasy scooping it up and launching it to Papa Jim. It didn’t reach him in time, but at least the play ended.

  Sawyer took the ball back and shook his head, looking at Mace again.

  Signal. Nod. Come set.

  Something in his periphery caught his attention, and he looked towards it instinctively, then groaned, making a face as the umpire called a balk.

  The batter advanced to first while his teammate moved to second.

  “Come on, Skeet!” Remy said behind him. “You got this, let’s go!”

  But what if he didn’t? What if…

  He shook his head, came set, and pitched.

  Pickle caught the fly for an easy out.

  Sawyer barely waited for Mace’s signal for the next batter, throwing two balls before finally landing a decent ball, which was sent right into Gru’s hands, and he tossed it to Farrabee, who sent it to Papa Jim for a clean double play, ending the misery.

  He jogged back to the dugout, avoiding looking anywhere at all, relieved that he hadn’t screwed up so badly it would affect the game’s outcome.

  But a balk? What was that about?

  “Ey, Skeet,” Remy said, slapping his shoulder. “You didn’t look at me, man. You okay?”

  “I’m not sure,” Sawyer admitted as he descended into the bullpen. “I’m just… I lost my footing, and my head’s not right.”

  Remy frowned and looked at Pickle. “Hey Pickle, you eat your eggs for breakfast?”

  “Yeah,” came the response. “You wearing your socks?”

  Remy nodded and looked at Mace. “Mace? Skeeter broke his head. Fix it, man.”

  Mace sighed as he sank onto the bench, removing his catcher’s gear. “Somebody walk under a ladder or throw some salt or toss up some Hail Marys so Skeeter can be absolved of his moment of weakness.”

  “Not funny,” Sawyer retorted with a glare.

  “Neither are bacon-flavored sunflower seeds, but I’m eating them anyway.” Mace gave him a dubious look, then went back to his equipment. “Shake it off. Number four coming up. New inning, new set.”

  Sawyer nodded, feeling as though he’d been tutored again, leaning over the fence to focus on the game.

  * * *

  There was something so incredibly awesome about seeing a friend play a professional sport.

  It was even more amazing to see that friend win.

  Erica’s seats had been fantastic, with the best view of Sawyer in action she could have hoped for. He’d done so well, pitching for five innings before the coach pulled him. She wasn’t sure why he’d put in a reliever so soon, especially when Sawyer had been doing his job, but she had overheard one of the people around her explaining that it was too early in the season to play a starter to their absolute potential and that there was lots of time still for him to prove himself.

  That had calmed her, and she’d been able to continue enjoying the game without worrying. The park was just as impressive in the daylight as it had been that night they’d been on the field the week before.

  Not as romantic, but still pretty cool.

  She wasn’t sure where Sawyer’s head would be at after the game, but in her mind, she thought he had every reason to be proud of himself. The bigger question for her was whether or not she should wait for him or just go home.

  They had gone out a few times, but she couldn’t exactly call that dating. She wanted to—would have loved to say such a thing—but couldn’t.

  They were friends, then.

  With a past.

  Oh boy. That wasn’t something you wanted to tell people. No one asked as many questions when you were dating or when you could say the words boyfriend or girlfriend, but any mention of a past and you were trapped. Especially with the past they had…

  She bit her lip, feeling the edges of worry creeping in. What was she doing? This guy had broken her heart before, and now she was playing with his very specific brand of fire.

  No, she told herself. No, things were different now. It was okay that she was here, and she could absolutely play this cool. Old friends and all that. No one needed to know she was his ex-girlfriend.

  Sawyer definitely wouldn’t want his teammates to know, if they were anything like the Six Pack.

  Would it have been better if she texted him to meet up later instead? That would avoid this whole potentially disastrous situation. But if she wasn’t there after the game, when he had seen her in the stands…

  Erica paced the parking lot, most of the cars already gone. She knew where Sawyer’s car was. She avoided standing next to it, but from her current position she could see the door they had entered the other night. She would be able to tell very quickly what sort of a mood he was in, and if he might possibly want to see her.

  Of course, it had been ages since the game had ended, and she was now completely starving, and she felt like an absolute idiot just waiting out here in the parking lot for a man she wasn’t even officially anything to.

  Minor details.

  “What are you doing, Erica Moore?” she asked herself as she kicked a small pebble, wishing she’d painted her nails before putting on her sandals this morning.

  She had no answers for herself, and none of the cars did either.

  Useless vehicles.

  The door opened, and, as luck would have it, Sawyer came out. She watched as he exhaled, his shoulders dropping, and he grinned up at the Arizona sky.

  Oh good. He was happy.

  Erica sighed in relief and started towards Sawyer, sticking her hands in the pockets of her jeans. He moved towards his car, and she headed that way too.

  “Hey,” she called when she was close enough.

  He looked up in surprise, then smiled brightly. “Hey.”

  “You know where I could meet any really good-looking baseball players?” she asked with a wrinkle of her nose. “I’m kind of interested.”

  “Are you now?” Sawyer laughed quietly and strode over to her. “Well, I think a game just finished here, so if you hang around long enough, you might see one or two come out of the locker room.”

  Erica looked towards the door, clicking to herself. “I see. Anyone worth trying for?”

  Sawyer shrugged. “The pitcher’s all right. Not a great game, but decent enough. Some say he’s not bad-looking, and I think he might be available.”

  “Oh,” she said, feigning interest. “Is he a starter or a reliever?”

  “Does it make a difference?” he returned.

  She shook her head. “Not really. Just want to know if he’s a man of power or endurance.”

  “Both,” Sawyer said bluntly. “He’s both.”

  Erica made a face, then shook her head. “Nah. I like catchers.”

  “What did that gorgeous woman say, Skeeter? She likes catchers?”

  Sawyer rolled his eyes and turned towards a muscular man with dark hair and a leather jacket despite the heat of the day. “Go away, Mace!”

  “Oh,” Erica murmured quietly. “That’s Mace? Good heavens, he could be Grizz’s cousin.”

  “Don’t encourage him,” Sawyer muttered, taking her hand in his, linking her fingers.

  Mace approached them with a broad smile, beaming through his neatly trimmed goatee. “Hi there. Mason Benjamin.”

  “Erica Moore,” she returned, holding out her hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”

  “Likewise,” Mace replied, sliding his eyes towards Sawyer.

  “Great game,” Er
ica complimented as she adjusted the hem of her T-shirt. “That throw to first in the eighth was amazing.”

  Mace grunted, though he smiled still. “Had to make Papa Jim work for it, you know. Prove the old man still has it.” He indicated her shirt with a nod. “Great shirt. Love the classic Black Racers logo, right?”

  “Oh, for sure, it is the best,” she agreed without hesitation.

  “Yay,” Sawyer said dryly. “You’re making friends. Good night, Mace.”

  Mace ignored him. “I take it I have you to thank for the plate of cookies Skeeter brought me the other day.”

  Sawyer muttered incoherently, looking away.

  Erica grinned outright. “Well, the idea was mine, I’ll admit it, but Sawyer made them himself. His mother’s recipe. You are now sworn to never tell Grizz.”

  Mace held up three fingers. “Scout’s honor. Besides, I’d have to tell him how good they are, and then he’d want some himself. Jess, my wife, refuses to let me have any more, yet she can eat as many as she wants. Very strange.”

  “That’s a good rule,” Erica pointed out. “I mean, you are technically in season now, and diet is everything.”

  “Oh, Jess will like you,” Mace told her, nodding. He looked over at Sawyer. “Skeet, bring her over for dinner tonight, if you don’t have plans. Jess wants me to grill, so if you just want to pick up some chips and some fruit to satisfy the aforementioned diet, it would be great.”

  Sawyer looked at Erica, and she looked at him. “You wanna go?” he asked.

  “I mean, if you don’t mind,” she said hesitantly. “And if you want to. You guys did just finish a game.”

  “I’m going to be grilling anyway,” Mace pointed out. “Whether you two are there or not. Might as well come. It’ll be just the four of us, and maybe we’ll put on a movie after dinner. Skeet and I will fall asleep halfway through, and you girls can talk about whatever you like.”

  Erica laughed and nodded. “I’m in if he is.”

  They both looked at Sawyer, who tossed up his free hand in surrender. “Fine, fine. We’ll go. See you in an hour or so?”

  “Perfect.” Mace smiled at Erica brightly. “Jess will be thrilled. She says I’m antisocial, so this will get me off the hook for a month!”

  “Glad to help,” she replied, laughing.

  Mace saluted and walked over to his car, leaving them alone.

  “Sorry,” Erica hissed, squeezing Sawyer’s hand. “If you don’t want to go…”

  He turned to her and pulled her into a warm hug. “I don’t mind at all,” he murmured. “And it was really good to see you after the game.”

  Erica wound her hands around his waist and hugged him back. “I wasn’t sure what I should do,” she admitted. “But I wanted to see you.”

  “Good.” He pulled back and smiled at her, making her bare toes tingle against her sandals. “Next time, I’ll make sure you know where to go. Waiting out here is weird.”

  “Tell me about it,” Erica said with a laugh. She gave him a careful look. “Good game?”

  His face tightened very briefly, but then he nodded. “Good enough. Room to improve, but good enough.” He squeezed her hand and turned towards his car. “Come on, let’s pick up some food.”

  “Uh, my car?” Erica asked, jerking her thumb towards it in the visitor lot.

  Sawyer waved that off. “We’ll come back and get it after Mace’s. Not going anywhere. I’ll get you a parking pass too. My girl needs premium parking.”

  His girl?

  Ohhh, her heart liked the sound of that.

  It liked it a lot.

  CHAPTER 7

  “Does anybody know which tribe was most commonly found in the state of Arizona?”

  A few hands shot into the air, and Erica smiled, pointing at one. “Yes?”

  “Navajo,” came the certain answer.

  Erica nodded, smiling at the little girl. “Very good. Now does anybody know what sort of homes the Navajo traditionally had?”

  The number of hands in the air decreased, and she pointed at one.

  “Wouldn’t it be teepees?” the boy asked, his brow wrinkling.

  A little bit of chatter from the other kids seemed to ask the same, and Erica nodded. “Everybody seems to think of Native Americans in teepees, and some certainly did live in teepees. But the Navajo had homes that were called hogans. And they looked like this.” She turned and gestured to a display behind her, which lit up as she turned.

  The kids oohed and ahhed and moved closer to the display, where a manikin wore traditional Navajo apparel and stood outside of the structure.

  The recording they’d finalized only that morning began to play overhead.

  “The Navajo lived in a dome-shaped house made with a wooden frame and walls of clay,” the deep male voice recited. “This was called a hogan. The door of the hogan always faced east to watch the sunrise.”

  The lights in the display changed to mimic a sunrise, and the kids reacted again.

  Erica hid a smile and gestured to the teacher to move the kids down the line of displays, and the next recording began.

  “The Navajo wore clothing made from woven yucca plants, or even deerskin,” the recorded voice continued. “After they began raising sheep…”

  “Now those are some fantastic displays,” a familiar voice murmured behind her. “Someone is insanely talented.”

  She gasped and whirled with a grin. “Sawyer! What are you doing here? I thought you had a game in Glendale today!”

  He chuckled and gave her a quick hug. “We do. They switched it to a night game, so I figured I should get some schoolwork done.”

  Erica snickered and pulled back to give him a scolding look. “About time. I’m still waiting for you to complete that first assignment.”

  He returned her look. “There’s no set deadlines in independent study, Miss Adjunct Professor.”

  “I know,” she laughed, swatting him. “Do you need some help with it? It’s a bit of an out-there one…”

  “What I need,” he overrode gently, “is for my girlfriend to not worry about my educational endeavors. Especially when she’s my teacher. Crosses too many boundaries.”

  Erica smiled and bit her lip, taking one of his hands. “Your girlfriend, huh?”

  Sawyer gave her a crooked smile as his fingers played with hers, his sandy scruff making him look almost rugged in his attractiveness. “I think so, yeah. If you’re interested in the position.”

  If she was interested? She’d barely been able to think about anything else but him since they’d come to Arizona, and since they’d spent almost every moment together here…

  Yeah, she was interested.

  She made a face of consideration. “I think I could be persuaded to try for it. Any other applicants I should be worried about?”

  Sawyer shook his head, his maddening, perfectly crooked smile still in place. “Not a single one.” Then he paused. “Well…”

  “Sawyer…” she warned.

  “There is baseball,” he pointed out. “She’s kind of demanding. Likes to get in the way. Takes over a little. But just because I give her attention doesn’t mean I feel any less for you.”

  Erica’s heart fluttered, and she tipped her head back. “And what do you…?”

  “Miss Moore,” the teacher from the group called. “Where should we go next?”

  “Oops,” Erica whispered. “Sorry!”

  Sawyer shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. Go be teacher. I’ll follow and take extra studious notes. We can continue this conversation when you’re free.”

  “Thank you,” she mouthed, darting back over to the group. “Okay, kids, tell me what you learned from those displays.”

  The rest of the Kids Day tour went off without a hitch, just as the three before it had, and Sawyer, true to his word, made a very studious observer. He hung back far enough to avoid being noticed, which was much appreciated.

  She’d never be able to get the kids’ attention back to the
Navajo if they were obsessed with a baseball star.

  Then again, from what she understood, the kids around here were mostly interested in the Arizona Falcons rather than the other teams who trained down here in the early spring, so she might have been safe.

  Once the kids were safely involved in the more creative project associated with Kids Day, which was outside of Erica’s responsibilities, she was able to sneak away and get back over to Sawyer, who lingered near the gift shop aimlessly.

  It was amazing, but he actually looked like the baseball player he was even just standing there in jeans and a Henley. The baseball cap helped, sure, but his outfit did nothing to hide his immaculate build, and she suddenly flashed back to memories of him throwing strikeout after strikeout at Belltown. Her heart had soared with every one, and when Sawyer had showed any kind of emotion on the mound, she’d felt it. He was always so focused, so determined, that he was almost business-like in his methodology. The Six Pack had always been able to bring the best out in him, and every clenched fist and whoop of delight had brought back Sawyer’s more human qualities.

  And then, just a few weeks before his senior season, he’d broken her heart.

  For baseball.

  She’d never told him, but she had gone to every single game in spite of the breakup. She’d sat in different spots every time, never in what had become her usual seat, and she’d always left before the game had ended.

  She couldn’t lose that connection to Sawyer.

  Then graduation had come, and life, and that had been the end.

  Until now.

  He wanted her to be his girlfriend, and she wanted to be.

  But how long would it last this time? When would he get to overthinking and planning and strategizing and realize, yet again, that she was a distraction for him?

  Could she go through all of that again? His senior season had arguably been his best, and there had been some small part of her that resented it. He had played better without her in his life, and there was the proof.

  But that had been incredibly insecure of her, not to mention arrogant. As if she personally had had any influence at all on his baseball skills or career.

  Second best behind a sport.

  What if that was her permanent designation?