Listen, Pitch (There's No Crying in Baseball 3)

My suspicions were confirmed moments later when she got to the door and swung it open wide, not bothering to check to see who it was.

Big no-no. Tyler would have her ass for that. Tyler being our brother, who was also a chief of police for the Hostel Police Department.

Luckily it wasn’t Tyler, and instead was a large man wearing a suit.

“Mr. Rivera wanted the lady to have this as his apologies for last night. He apologizes for his bodyguard’s rough handling of the situation and hopes that you will accept his apology,” the stiff-suited man said.

His face and mouth were clear to me, so I got everything without having to ask my sister what he’d said.

Alana reached out and took the box, looking at it in confusion.

Then I saw the name on the side and the exact model number of the transmitter and speech processor of the one that’d been broken last night.

My heart soared.

Though it would have to be fine-tuned by the audiologist, I would have one.

Holy shit! That wasn’t chump change!

“Thank you,” I said, hoping that it didn’t come out as loud as I feared.

Obviously, I’d miscalculated, and the man’s eyes twitched, but he didn’t say anything, and I didn’t either.

Alana handed me the box, said something that I couldn’t see, and the man in the suit nodded and turned, descending back down our walkway the same way he came.

“Wow,” I breathed.

A hand on my arm had me turning my face to my sister.

“Why does it seem like there is more to the story that you haven’t told me?”

I shrugged and pulled out my phone, texting my audiologist with my plea to fit me in some time that day, and walked away.

One of the good things about being deaf was that when people were talking to you, you could ignore them and you had a perfectly legitimate excuse.

Once I was done with my texting and got my appointment confirmed, I stared at the box.

How had someone—anyone—gotten that before the night was even through?

And who the hell was this neighbor of ours that he had a bodyguard?

Seriously, I felt lost, and I needed answers.

So that became the first day I started to spy on my neighbor.Chapter 4I pretend that coffee helps, but really, I’m just a bitch.

-Coffee Cup

Henley

Day seven of spying on my neighbor turned out to be fruitful.

I finally got a full headshot of the man, and I studied it almost relentlessly.

My eyes took in the dark, handsome man, and I knew that I knew him. Somehow. From somewhere.

I knew, but I still couldn’t figure out how.

“What are you doing?” my sister asked.

I backed away from my telescope that was set up in our backyard jungle gym and stared down at my sister.

“I’m investigating,” I said. “I can’t figure out who this guy is, and it’s bothering the shit out of me.”

My sister snorted. “What makes you think he’s famous?”

“Normal people don’t have bodyguards. Normal people can’t buy five thousand dollars’ worth of stuff in less than eight hours and have it in your hands before morning.”

She nodded.

That she could understand.

We lived paycheck to paycheck. Or at least I did. My sister was a little better off than I was.

Nobody I knew could afford to drop five grand for a person they didn’t even know, despite being the reason behind why the thing was broken in the first place. But still.

“Anyway, I’m happy either way,” she said. “But I have to go to bed. Mom’s coming over to get Autumn in a few minutes, and she’ll get her dressed. You’re free to go to bed, too.”

I gave her a thumb up from my elevated position and then watched her turn around and head back inside. “I’ll see you tonight.”

My sister waved at me over her shoulder, and I turned my attention back to the street where the sexy, bearded god was standing next to his motorcycle.

A sleek black Harley that looked like it went really, really fast.

He straddled the bike and was gone moments later, making my ears vibrate with his departure.

I sighed and pulled away from the telescope.

I would have to make sure to say thank you to him the next time I saw him.

Little did I know that I’d be seeing him again—only not where I ever thought I’d see him.Chapter 5Re-annoyed: when something that happened years ago still annoys you.

-Henley’s secret thoughts

Henley

I hadn’t seen my neighbor in seven days. Seven long, horrible, very long days.

What was wrong with me?

I’d become obsessed. I looked out my window. If I heard something during the day, I’d be wide awake, and couldn’t go back to bed until I either A, got up to look, or B, berated myself for forty-five minutes. I’d even taken to wearing my transmitter to bed. That was how bad it’d gotten.

Needless to say, I was a fucking mess by the time the end of my shift at work rolled around on Friday morning at six.