Fisher's Light (Fisher's Light 1)

My father actually has the foresight to look embarrassed.

“Grace, I was just—”

“You were just, what? Making yourself look like an ass?” she interrupts him. “Keep your mouth shut about Lucy. You say one more unkind word about her and I will throw your shit out on the front lawn and you can find a new place to live.”

I don’t know who is more shocked about my mother’s threat, my father or me. We’re both wearing equal looks of disbelief on our faces, but mine is tinged with amusement that I can’t quite keep contained. I smile widely at my mother and she gives me a wink before going back to passing out bottles of water.

Moving away from my father before I punch him in the face, I start clapping and shouting as loud as I can for Lucy as the pitcher finishes up a couple practice pitches.

Pressing my hands together in silent prayer, I rest my fingers against my lips and hold my breath as Lucy gets into the stance I showed her and chokes up on the bat. The pitcher winds up and throws as hard as he can. Even with the entire park screaming and stomping their feet, I still hear the loud crack of the bat over the noise as it connects with the ball. My hands slowly drop from my face and my eyes widen in shock as I watch the ball Lucy just hit soar through the air and into the outfield.

The entire dugout begins screaming and hugging and jumping up and down. I start to join them when I realize Lucy is still standing on home plate with the bat in her hand, staring into the outfield in shock while the runner from third is almost home.

“LUCY! DROP THE BAT AND RUN, BABY!” I shout to her with a laugh.

She jumps out of her trance, tosses the bat to the side and takes off towards first. The guys in the outfield are scrambling to get to the ball since they all moved infield when she got up to bat. They’ve got a long way to run since she cracked the hell out of that thing. It bounced almost to the fence line.

Our entire team leaves the dugout and we’re standing along the first base line, cheering all the runners as they make it over home plate. The other team is screaming at the guys in the outfield, telling them to move their asses. Lucy rounds third when they finally get the ball and heave it infield. She slides across home plate like a pro, kicking up dust all over the place, right as the ball comes sailing in to the catcher.

“SAFE!” Butch shouts.

We all charge the mound, cheering and hollering and I shove people out of the way to get to Lucy, forgetting about the fact that we aren’t together and this isn’t a softball game of the past. I scoop her up into my arms and jump up and down. She wraps her arms around my shoulders and her legs around my hips and laughs as I chant her name with everyone else.

“Damn, if I’d known telling you to visualize my face as the ball would get you to hit a grand slam, I would’ve told you that years ago,” I laugh.

She throws her head back and laughs harder as everyone pats her on the back and congratulates her.

“Luce?”

Lucy’s laughter dies and her smile suddenly falls. She gently pats my shoulders to get me to put her down and I slowly lower her to the ground as her legs slide from around my waist. She untangles herself from my arms and turns to face Shit-Stain-Ford.

He grabs onto both of her hands and pulls her away from me and I immediately want to wrap my arms around her and bring her back in a jealous tug of war.

“I was going to wait to do this until later, but we might as well celebrate your win right here in front of everyone.”

He gives me a quick glare that goes unnoticed by Lucy since she’s currently looking over her shoulder at me. I slide my hands in my pockets and pretend like I’m not wondering what the fuck he’s doing.

He starts lowering himself to the ground and I feel bile rising up in my throat as Lucy whips her head around to look at him.

“What are you doing? Get up!” she whispers frantically.

He’s on one knee at this point and I suddenly realize exactly what he’s doing. The prick is proposing to my fucking wife and I want to beat his ass more than I ever have before.

“I know we haven’t known each other long, but I love you, Lucy Butler,” the motherfucking piece of shit pompous asshole tells her as he pulls a light blue Tiffany’s box from his shirt pocket and holds it open in front of her.

The diamond is bigger than her fucking finger and sparkles in the sunshine. Everyone gathered around home plate has quieted down and they’re watching this whole shit show unfold five feet away from me.

“Will you marry me, Lucy?”

I don’t bother to wait for her reply. I turn and walk off of the field, wishing I still drank. An entire bottle of whiskey sounds really good right about now, especially when I hear a loud cheer erupt from the field, most likely in celebration of Lucy’s engagement.

Chapter 31

Lucy

Present Day

As soon as Fisher walks away from home plate, I let out the breath I was holding. Thank God Bob, who owns the souvenir store, needs to take a few practice pitches so I can pull myself together and try to remember all the tips Fisher gave me instead of thinking about how much I wanted to feel his hands someplace other than on top of mine.

I’ve been avoiding him all day and I feel like a coward. He’s tried talking to me several times, but I’ve made up one excuse after another and walked away from him. I want to talk to him, I really do, but I’m having a hard time thinking about anything other than sex when he’s within two feet of me. It doesn’t help that he’s wearing his usual pair of cargo shorts that make his ass look fantastic and a three-quarter-length baseball-style t-shirt that molds his upper body and shows off all of his muscles. Every time he’s been up to bat, I’ve been glued to the fence, panting like a dog in heat.