Pitch Please (There's No Crying in Baseball 1)

I grunted.

“Angels wouldn’t complain about beards. You must be the devil,” I moaned. “My head feels wonky.”

“Your head is wonky,” she shot back. “Otherwise you wouldn’t think it’s okay to sleep in my bed with your face between my breasts.”

“Blasphemy.”

When she laughed, I decided to show her what I meant and started to skim my hand up the angel’s thigh.

“Stop.” She slapped my hand away.

“If you were truly an angel, you’d give me the comfort that I want. Not turn me away,” I grumbled, rolling until I was on my belly, my entire body curled up against the length of hers. “Keep me warm, Angel. I’m cold.”

She said something under her breath that I couldn’t hear, but I couldn’t be bothered with such frivolities at this time. I was too tired.

My eyes closed, and I was dead to the world.

***

Sway

“Jesus,” I yanked my arm out from under the big man. “You weigh a ton.”

“Do not, Angel,” he grumbled. “Your pillow’s deflated.”

I pulled until my arm was out from under his head, then rolled right on out of bed.

I couldn’t handle his heat any more.

The man was fucking crazy active in bed, and I was literally exhausted from waking up not once, not twice. But over fifteen times since I’d gone to bed seven hours ago.

I’d woken up when he’d wormed his way into my queen-size bed and again when he’d rolled over on top of me and started using my breasts as pillows.

Then once more when he woke up shivering, and I’d stuffed Tylenol and ibuprofen down his throat.

Then he’d started sweating, drenching not just me but the bed, so I moved to the couch.

And he’d wound up on the couch, also.

It was like he was following me.

Using the time it took him to find me yet again, I quickly changed the sheets at four in the morning and got back into bed once more.

Now it was seven fifteen and he was, unsurprisingly, in bed with me.

Or was.

I’d had enough of being in bed with that man.

And sweet baby Jesus…the snoring!

I just hoped he didn’t do that on a normal day when he wasn’t sick.

The man sounded like a damn freight train.

If I hadn’t been asleep before he’d gotten in bed with me, I would’ve found it really hard to even close my eyes with the sheer amount of noise he was making.

“Yo!” Someone pounded on my door. “Sway!”

I sighed and picked my pants up off the floor, thankful that Mr. McSnory Pants had been too under the weather to notice my state of undress.

Hopping on one foot, then the other, I worked my pants over my feet, then pulled them up before I got to the front door.

“Sway!” A man knocked hard again. “I know you’re home! Open the goddamn door!”

Grimacing at the voice that was on the other side of the door, I contemplated whether or not to answer it or not.

There was a benefit to having my own home now.

I was an adult, and if I didn’t want to answer the door, I didn’t have to. Right?

But the more he pounded on my door, the more I realized he wasn’t going to go away without talking to me.

Sighing in exasperation, I smoothed my hair back and reached for the knob.

“What do you want?” I asked the moment I got the door open.

My glare obviously didn’t deter the man, because he pushed inside and tossed me a sneer as he did.

“I’ve been trying to call you,” he said smoothly.

My brows rose.

“And?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

His eyes went to my breasts, and he grinned.

I gritted my teeth and tried to force myself not to react to the stupid man’s terror tactics.

Langston Spacey was my ex.

My ex-boyfriend. My ex supervisor. My ex-lover.

He was also my first.

He was also one of the worst mistakes I’d ever made in my life.

Things between Langston and I had started out awesome.

We’d met when I was trying to work myself through college.

He was the branch manager while I was only a lowly teller. We’d instantly hit it off, but I’d quickly found that Langston had two sides.

One side of his personality liked my curvaceous body. The other side despised it, especially when he had to take me out with his friends and introduce me as his girlfriend.

His mother also hated the fact that I couldn’t find anything that didn’t show off my ‘ample attributes’ or whatever the fuck that’s supposed to be.

I could never tell if she was talking about the amount of breast I showed while dressed up, or the amount of rolls.

Either way I never received approval from his mom or him.

Two peas in a pod, those two were.

And I’d broken up with the certain ‘pea’ in front of me over a year and a half ago and had promptly moved out of the city.