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

I’d tried, of course, but without him to watch, the game wasn’t nearly as fun.

I’d been watching him since he’d been acquired by the Lumberjacks.

Literally the game did nothing for me anymore.

“Hey!”

I stopped and turned, watching as the catcher started to remove his mask.

“What?” I snapped, somewhat harshly.

Then my breath froze in my chest as those familiar locks of hair came into view.

And the beard.

Oh. My. God. I know that beard!

“Hancock!”

Hancock caught me, and then promptly lost his footing as we both fell back to the dirt.

It’d only been two weeks.

But it felt like two years.

Literally, I was stupid. I shouldn’t be crying right now.

But I’d been so worried about him, and I hadn’t heard from him in so long that my worries and doubts started to take over.

The crowd around us went wild when Hancock’s mouth touched mine, and I smiled as I pulled back.

“This is very inappropriate,” I murmured happily.

“I had to get my kiss before the game,” he teased me. “And you never came back to your office or these extreme measures wouldn’t have been necessary.”

My face broke out into a grin.

“That’s ridiculous. I’ve been in my office all afternoon!” I informed him haughtily.

He laughed.

“I know.”

“How do you know?” I pushed off of him.

He didn’t take the hand I offered him. Instead, he stood up, and then wrapped his arms low around my ass, lifting me up off my feet as he swung me around and then carried me off the field.

“I was taking care of a few matters,” he grunted, setting me down in the mouth of the dugout.

“And what might those matters be?” I asked as he started to back away.

Players started to file out of the dugout around me even though I was standing in the middle of the stairs, but I kept my eyes focused on Hancock.

“Nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about right now.”

Shaking my head in bemusement, I headed down the steps, knocking shoulders with my uncle as I went, and took my normal seat.

I did happen to notice that Croft—the backup catcher—was at the very end of the dugout with his face turned toward the field.

His eyes were on Hancock, watching every move he made.

And I noticed a bruise forming under his right eye.

What the hell had happened to him?

I couldn’t find it in me to care at that point, though.

Hancock had made me so extremely happy that I couldn’t freakin’ contain it.

I was literally bouncing in my seat as I watched the boys get ready to play ball.

So fucking happy.Chapter 22Maybe serial killers are just regular killers on a low carb diet.

-Chinese Fortune

Sway

The moment Hancock’s foot hit home plate, I was on my feet.

“Yes!” I exclaimed. “Go, Hancock! Woo hoo!”

I might, or might not have, been very excited.

So excited, in fact, that I was literally wiggling enthusiastically for Hancock to make his way toward me.

But he was waylaid by his teammates who caught him up around the hips and lifted him straight off his feet.

The moment he was up in the air, someone moved him so he was parallel to the ground, and the entire team was tossing him around like he was a fuckin’ child.

Though, I could see their exhilaration.

The team had lost all of their games over the last two weeks that they’d been back from the All-Star break except for one.

And the minute Hancock shows back up, they not only win, but they knocked five home runs out of the park. One was even a grandslam.

Two of which were hits by Hancock himself.

The team, from what I could tell, didn’t appear to be mad at him.

All except Croft, that was.

Croft was pissed that as soon as he started playing, the team started losing, which he made a point of complaining to me about each time they lost, and he had to come to me for an ice bath—for sore muscles that I damn well knew weren’t all that sore.

I’d passed him off to Sinclair, and I’d seen their heads bobbing back and forth as they spoke softly to each other.

I knew there was something going on between them, just like there was right now. The two of them were huddled together, talking quietly to each other instead of Croft participating in the team celebration that was happening on the field.

Not that I could blame him. I would’ve been upset too if the star player came back and immediately put me out of the job.

So yes, I could sympathize, but I didn’t get the reason for his hostility in the first place.

And having Sinclair in the mix was downright troubling.

“Sway?” Siggy called.

I turned to find him staring at me in confusion.

“What?” I asked.

“Games over. You ready to go?” he asked.

I turned to look, and was surprised to find that no one was on the field anymore except for Hancock, who was talking to reporters.