Quit Your Pitchin' (There's No Crying in Baseball 2)

“Because,” Grandma replied. “I own half the damn baseball team, thanks to my deplorable ex.”

Wrigley’s mouth dropped open. “You own half the team and you made me pay for my own beers? I knew those were mean thoughts you were having earlier when I asked about him!”

Now that was interesting. My grandmother never talked about my biological grandfather.

“I made you pay for your own beers because I don’t give anything away for free to anyone. How do you think places like this make their money? I’ll tell you how. Not by giving free stuff away when someone can pay for it instead,” my grandmother countered.

I started to chuckle as the age-old argument came into effect.

My sister loved to argue this all the time, too.

However, the difference between Wrigley and my sister was glaring.

Where my sister would’ve harped, and harped, and not quit until my grandmother was well and truly pissed off, Wrigley only laughed.

She laughed.

And then agreed.

“I like you a lot, Grandma Beverly,” Wrigley semi-slurred.

Grandma turned to me with a wink. “You’ll have to keep this one.”

Then she turned and walked away, leaving me with Wrigley in a wedding dress, slightly inebriated.

“Come on, darlin’,” I said. “You’re about ten beers ahead of me and that makes me feel left out.”

Wrigley took my hand and started to swing it like a six-year-old. “Yay!”

I snorted. “You want to catch a cab, or do you want to walk? It’s only about a mile and a half to our hotel.”

She squinted her eyes and then nodded once.

“Was that a decision you just made but forgot to voice?” I questioned teasingly.

She tilted her head slightly. “It was.”

“Well, what did you decide?” I grinned, loving this playful side of her.

It wasn’t that Wrigley wasn’t playful and fun to be around when she was sober, but she was less in control this way. More open about what she was feeling.

I liked it.

A lot.

“So…why are you in that wedding dress?” I questioned.

I obviously knew why she was in a wedding dress. I’d been the one to nail her with multiple beers, after all, but I still wanted her to answer me.

She turned her head toward me in an Exorcist fashion and bared her teeth. “It was either wear this or wear my beer clothes. You should be grateful that your grandmother let me borrow it. Otherwise, you would’ve had one pissy girl on your hands.”

I didn’t mention the fact that my grandmother could’ve literally walked up to the counter in the gift shop and gotten her a pair of pants and a new t-shirt. She could’ve also gotten her one of everything, and it not cost her a dime.

Yet, I withheld that particular comment.

I also withheld the next one that sprung to mind: You look beautiful and I’d love to see you walking down the aisle toward me in that very dress.

Instead, I went with the other thing that was on my mind.

“Who was that guy that was sitting behind you at the game?” I questioned. “He seemed like he knew you.”

She shook her head so fast and hard that she started to stumble. I caught her before she could so much as tilt sideways.

“That man was not my friend,” she assured me. “He purposefully rammed his knees into my back just before your first at bat so I’d move and give him more leg room…” She grinned. “You’re impressed that I called it your first at bat, aren’t you? Your grandmother taught that to me today. I should get an A+ in Baseball for Dummies. Then he touched my ass when I bent over to try to pick up the ball that nailed the beer guy.”

I bit my lip to hold my chuckle in. The way her thoughts were so scattered made me feel like I could barely keep up.

Damn, the girl was fucking adorable when she was drunk!

“Definitely A+ material,” I agreed. “And that guy touched your ass?”

She nodded. “I sat next to your grandmother, though. Each time he started to get into my business, she’d threaten him with her cane.”

I frowned. “My grandmother doesn’t have a cane.”

Wrigley’s brows rose in surprise. “Yes, she does.”

“No,” I disagreed. “She doesn’t.”

“Then what’s in that long black stick like thing that she was carrying around?” she questioned.

I tried to think back to her at the field earlier, and couldn’t come up with anything that was long and black that belonged to her. But, now that I thought about it, I had seen another elderly lady sitting next to her. Maybe she’d stolen her cane?

I had no clue, but I wouldn’t put it past her. I couldn’t take her anywhere without her getting into trouble. And, apparently, she was now roping my woman into her fun.

“If my grandmother ever asks you to do anything with her after y’all have been drinking, don’t do it.”