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

His interrogation took about an hour as Siggy got into drill sergeant mode— something he’d picked up during his eight years in the Army—and grilled Croft until he confessed to every single thing he’d stolen over the course of the season.

Something I wasn’t able to stay and witness since I had a whole baseball team to prepare for the upcoming game, and two assistants, who could only work under my direction since they weren’t certified athletic trainers like I was.

Forty-five minutes later, I was bending over to check my bag that I took with me to all the games when I felt someone come up behind me.

I knew it was Hancock without even looking up.

Not because I could smell him or feel him, but because he was just that big of a presence. It was like my body was tuned in to his, and I knew it was him from the electrical charge I always felt when he was close.

“You ready, big boy?” I asked him.

He stilled my hips that I didn’t even realize were swaying to the music playing softly on the phone in my pocket and fitted his chest against my back.

“I’m ready,” he agreed. “Even more ready now that I have my glove back.”

“You have your glove back?” I whispered, straightening. “But I didn’t even tell you that…”

“I heard everything that was said. I’d already come into the stairwell to meet you in the parking lot, but I froze when I heard Sinclair and Croft talking,” he explained. “That’s why I was late getting to you.”

I harrumphed.

“I can’t believe that kid stole all those things.” I shook my head in confusion. “From what I understand, he was a decent catcher at one time. He didn’t need to steal y’all’s shit to get any better.”

“My guess is that the kid just wanted to fit in. Maybe he wanted to commiserate with the players that lost something,” he explained. “But we won’t know for sure until Siggy gets done with him.”

I shuddered as I thought about Siggy getting done with him.

“Alright, you handsome man, are you ready to play?” I asked, changing the subject to something a little less sad.

My handsome man with his badass beard smiled.

“I will be as soon as you give me my kiss.”

I gave him a kiss.

“Break a leg.”

His eyes crossed.

“That’s not what you’re supposed to say!” he growled in exasperation. “Never!”

I rolled my eyes.

“Then what am I supposed to say?” I questioned.

“Have a good game?” he tried. “Telling me to break a leg isn’t something you’d ever want to wish on me.”

“Whatever.”

“Not whatever,” he countered. “If I break a leg, you’re going to regret it.”

“You won’t break a leg. Now get out there, and show ‘em what you got.” I shouldered my bag. “I’ll see you on the bench.”

He sighed and pushed away, holding my office door open for me.

“Yes, ma’am.”

It was in the second inning that he broke a leg.

Luckily, it wasn’t his own leg that he broke, but the other team’s catcher’s leg when he had tried to stop Hancock from crossing home plate.

He scored, and the catcher got a season-ending injury for his efforts.Chapter 25Catcher has a big butt.

-Things you shouldn’t say to your professional baseball player that just so happens to be a catcher.

Hancock

162nd game of the season

Texas Lumberjacks v. Shreveport Sparks

Home Game

“Good to see you,” I offered my hand to the man who was sitting along the first base line, Gabe. “How’s it going.”

Ember took my hand as well and then gestured to the perky blonde next to her. “This is Rainie.”

Rainie waved spastically, and I decided these two ladies in front of me were perfect for my Sway.

“You know what to do?” I asked.

Rainie and Ember both nodded.

“We do,” both women promised.

I grinned and handed the man, Gabe, my ring box.

“I would give it to my mom, but she wouldn’t be able to hold it in…and my brothers are three sheets to the wind.” I pointed at my brothers and parents who were sitting just above the dugout.

“That’s pretty funny, actually,” Ember giggled. “Hannibal was just telling us how much your mom drives him crazy.”

I grinned, my eyes straying over to my brother. He was miserable right now.

After careful consideration, he’d decided to take a hiatus from the black ops team—a hiatus that his CO insisted on for his ‘mental health.’ Though the reason behind this break wasn’t a good one, I could see my brother getting better daily.

Although I was sure that had a lot to do with him doing hard, manual labor at our family’s ranch—a place we were headed to this evening after the game for a fun-filled weekend of branding the new cattle.

I still helped around the ranch when I had time, and since this was the last game of the season, it coincided perfectly with the ranch. Which meant my parents wouldn’t have to hire anybody to help since not only was I coming to help, but Hannibal was there now, too.