Hit and Run (Hot-Lanta #4)

  Jane was impressed with the team this year. They seemed to have a spark under them they didn’t have before. They were winning by two, but a couple of insurance runs never hurt. Even though it was an exhibition game, the team still played with just as much heart as if they were playing a playoff game.

  Flying to Florida wasn’t on her list of things to do this weekend, but when Patty and Marc showed up in the morning, dragging her out the door, she really had no choice. Marc was excited to see the boys play. He spoke of spring training as a fun time for a veteran. A lot of the newbies got to show off their stuff in front of the veterans, and the vets got to tease them relentlessly. He said you would never see a baseball player work as hard as one trying to make the team during spring training. From what Jane could tell, Marc was right.

  There were some rookies busting their asses out on the field, running out every hit and sprinting in and out of the dugout. Of all the times Jane attended a spring training game, she’d never noticed the newbies, but then again, her eyes were always drawn toward Brady.

  This time, she avoided his gaze as much as she could. Instead of wearing his T-shirt jersey, she wore a plain white T-shirt with a pair of jean capris. She was neutral, not wanting to lead Brady on. Although, she did miss the smile he would give her every time he saw his last name plastered against her back.

  Marc stuck his fingers in his mouth and whistled loudly, right next to Jane.

  She covered her ears at the high-pitched noise. “Can you not do that right next to my ear?”

  Marc nudged her shoulder. “Lighten up and drink your beer. Enjoy the spirit of the game.”

  It was hard to enjoy the game when Brady was a foot away, warming up in the on-deck box. The weight on the end of his baseball bat helped warm up his arms as he twisted from side to side, showing off his impressive physique. Girls all around the backstop pointed at him and took pictures, trying to get a selfie with just his back, because that was good enough for them.

  Parker fouled off another ball, putting the count at three and two.

  “That boy’s got power, if only he can get it between the lines,” Marc observed.

  “You should see him in the weight room,” Brady said, turning around and winking at Jane, melting her in her seat.

  She was powerless when it came to Brady in his uniform. A lot of baseball players left their jerseys baggy, giving them room to move. Not Brady. His jersey was form fitting, sculpting his shoulders and the V of his waist. His pants hugged his ass and the bottoms were pushed up to his knees, showing off his socks. There were two types of baseball players; ones with high pants and ones with low pants. Jane would forever be a high pants kind of girl, thanks to Brady.

  “Is he able to bench the bar now?” Marc joked, making Brady laugh.

  Ugh, his laugh. It was like a lullaby to her ears; listening to his deep chuckle was incredibly soothing.

  “That and then some. Pretty sure he could out-bench you, now that you’re an old geezer.”

  “Watch it,” Marc teased. “This old timer could still beat your scrawny body.”

  “Scrawny?” Brady feigned shock. “Pretty sure these muscles aren’t tiny.” Brady flexed for him, the crowd seeing the interaction and appreciating it.

  Yup, Brady had muscles, he had big, fat, bulging muscles. Stupid weight room, Jane thought, looking away.

  “Stop yucking it up with the crowd, Matthews,” Deek called from the dugout.

  “Ooo…you got in trouble,” Marc taunted.

  “Fuck off,” Brady laughed. “Having fun?” he directed his question at Jane.

  “Yes,” she said curtly, not wanting Brady to get in any more trouble.

  “Ball four,” the umpire called out. Parker set his bat down and took his base.

  “Time for me to drive these men in,” Brady said with confidence, knocking the weight off his bat and kicking it to the side. “Give me a little sugar for good luck.” He leaned toward Jane with his cheek.

  “What? No,” Jane replied, completely appalled.

  “Batting next, your first baseman, number seventeen, Brady Matthews!” The announcer’s voice carried through the stadium, followed by a million horny women screaming his name.

  “Better make it quick; I have to go up there.”

  “Brady, I’m not going to kiss you.”

  “Then I guess I will just have to wait here until you do.” Brady crossed his arms over his chest and waited.

  “Matthews, what the hell are you doing? Go up to the plate,” Deek called out.

  “You’re holding up the game, Pip-squeak.”

  “Jane, just kiss him,” Patty urged.

  “Jane, you know he’ll stand there all day,” Marc pointed out.

  Looking around, the crowd started to rally behind Brady and started saying, “Kiss, Kiss, Kiss.”

  She was going to kill him.

  Never being good with peer pressure, she stood up and planted a kiss on Brady’s cheek, and then whispered, “I hope you strike out.”

  “Not possible,” he winked and walked up to the plate, an arrogant swagger in his step.

  Jane flopped herself down in her seat, frustrated that she could still feel him on her lips.

  Patty leaned over to Jane’s ear and said, “Smile for the camera, Jane. Everyone in the stadium is watching you.”

  To her dismay, Jane saw her face framed in a heart, plastered across the jumbo-tron with the words Mrs. Matthews spelled out across the top. She looked over at Brady, who once again winked at her, and then stepped into the batter’s box, swinging his bat, and getting into position.

  Jane spoke between clenched teeth. “He is so arrogant.”

  “He has a reason to be,” Marc said, as Brady took a ball, using his trained eye. “The man is one of the best first basemen in the league, if not the best, and his swing has only improved with age. He’s married to a beautiful and intelligent woman and is the captain of the Atlanta Braves. He has it all.”

  “He doesn’t have everything,” Jane muttered, slouching in her seat and thinking about the one thing he wanted that Jane couldn’t give him.

  The pitcher of the opposing team nodded at the catcher and glanced at the runner at third base. Without looking, he wound up and pitched the ball, right at Brady’s head. Brady dropped to the ground, barely missing the head-pelt by millimeters.

  Jane clutched her chest, gasping as she looked at Brady on the ground. She almost wondered if he got hit until he got up and started laughing with the catcher, while brushing off his jersey.

  “Jesus, how can he just laugh like that?” Jane asked. “He almost got hit in the head.”

  “That’s why we wear helmets, Jane.”

  “Still, he could have gotten seriously injured.”

  Marc gripped her hand. “It almost seems like you care.”

  “Marc…” Patty warned.

  “It’s okay, he can speak his mind,” Jane offered.

  “No, he can’t.” Patty pinched Marc’s arm, making him squirm. “Apologize for being rude to our friend Jane, or I am going to make you wait to have sex until we are married.”

  Marc turned in his seat, grabbed Jane’s hand, and said, “Jane, I am so, so sorry, Please, will you forgive me for being an insensitive ass?”

  Jane tried not to smile at the desperation and fear in Marc’s eyes. “She’s really got you whipped, doesn’t she?”

  “Wouldn’t have it any other way. So, do you forgive me?”

  “Of course,” Jane said easily, just as the crack of the bat filled the stadium.

  Jane looked up to see Brady running toward first and the ball sailing to right-center, filling the gap. The crowd erupted and unconsciously Jane stood up and cheered with the rest of them, clapping her hands and whistling.

  Brady cleared the bases and then slid into second, dust flying up around him. Flawlessly, without a hitch, he stood up from his slide and clapped his hand together in excitement.

  “He’s so hot,” a girl said from behind
Jane. “I would give anything to spend one night with him.”

  “Tell me about it. I bet he’s fantastic in bed.”

  Jane smiled to herself, knowing damn well what he was like in bed, and the girls were right…he was fantastic. Images of Brady on top of her, sweating in pleasure, flashed through her mind as she looked out at Brady talking to the opposing team’s shortstop.

  If his intention in bringing her out to this game was to remind her how she fell madly in love with him, it was working, because right about now, no matter how much she tried to forget him, her stomach fluttered from the bright smile he was directing at only her.

  **Brady**

  “Matthews, my office. Now,” Deek called in his gruff voice.

  The last thing Brady wanted to do was talk to Deek, knowing Jane was waiting for him outside the locker room. That was why he’d spent less than four minutes in the shower cleaning himself.

  But, knowing Deek, Brady really didn’t have a choice.

  “What’s up?” Brady asked, closing the door to Deek’s office and taking a seat.

  “Your little tea break during the game while on deck has cost you five games.”

  “What?” Brady exploded. “It’s not like I haven’t talked to Jane during a game before. The fans love it.”

  Deek rubbed his jaw and leaned back in his chair. “Yeah, so do the guys upstairs. They loved it so much that when I told them you were going to be benched for five games, they reprimanded me.”

  Brady smiled inwardly. He knew the clubhouse enjoyed his interaction with Jane. It made the ladies swoon and the guys jealous.

  “So, what does that mean?”

  “It means I can’t ban you from games like I wanted to. They actually want her at more games.”

  Cringing, Brady said, “That might be a problem right now.”

  “You’re getting on my nerves, Matthews. Why will this be a problem?”

  Brady really didn’t want to get into his personal life with Deek, especially since Brady had to tread lightly with the man, but it didn’t seem like he had much choice with the executives wanting more Jane and Brady time.

  “You know we lost the baby…”

  Deek straightened up and cleared his throat. “Yes, I do. I can’t express to you how sorry I am for your loss.”

  “Thank you.” Brady took a deep breath, trying to relax his throat muscles that were tightening up on him. “Well, we haven’t had an easy time recovering from that. Our relationship is a bit rocky right now. She was at the game today because I pretty much forced her, thanks to Marc’s help.”

  Deek nodded his head in understanding. “You know, Matthews, my wife once had a miscarriage. I thought the whole ordeal might destroy her. It was one of the most devastating things I had to watch a woman go through. I wouldn’t wish it upon my worst enemy.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Let me finish,” Deek held up his hand. “I didn’t know what to do, how to talk to her after that. I was lost just as much as she was. So, I turned to the one thing I knew, baseball. I buried myself so deep in the sport that when I came up for air, my wife was gone, and I was staring at the front page of divorce papers.”

  Deek’s story sounded all too familiar to Brady. He could empathize with the man.

  Leaning forward, Deek met Brady’s eyes and spoke sternly. “Don’t let baseball bury you so you forget your problems. Fight for her.”

  “I am. I am fighting every damn day of my life.”

  “What do you need from me? I believe in a strong team and work ethic, but I also believe in a solid family life. I can be lenient at times.”

  “I appreciate that. Right now, I have a plan, but I might need to come into practice a little earlier so I can leave earlier.”

  “That’s fine,” Deek waved his hand at Brady. “As long as you still get in your time and put in the effort around the boys.”

  “I always will; you know that about me.”

  “I do. You’re one of the hardest workers I know. That’s why I put so much pressure on you. I don’t want you to ever let up, and I mean that for your baseball career and your personal life.”

  Brady stood up and shook Deek’s outstretched hand. “Thanks, boss. I appreciate it.”

  “You’re welcome. Don’t fuck things up.”

  “I won’t,” Brady said with a grin.

  The locker room was still buzzing with his teammates as he walked out of Deek’s office. Normally, he would join in on the ribbing of the rookies, but right now, he had more important people to be with. Well, a more important person that is.

  Just outside the locker room, Jane stood with Marc and Patty. Brady studied her body language for a second before greeting her. Her shoulders were stiff, her arms crossed against her chest, and her lips were pursed. Yup, she wasn’t happy. It also didn’t escape him that she hadn’t worn her T-shirt jersey. He didn’t let that little move of hers affect him too much; she would be wearing it soon. He had no doubt in his mind.

  “Hey,” he called out. He shook Marc’s hand, gave Patty a kiss on the cheek, and then turned to Jane, who was avoiding him. “Hey there, sweet thing.”

  “Hi,” she replied, arms still crossed.

  “You going to give me a hug?” Brady held his arms out for her and reluctantly, she undid the tight pretzel knot she had put her arms in and wrapped them around Brady, placing her head on his chest.

  Quickly, before she could escape, Brady hugged her tightly to his chest, breathing in the scent…the natural scent of his wife. He’d almost forgotten how small she was.

  “Good game, man,” Marc said, breaking Brady’s little spell he was in with Jane.

  “Thanks.” Jane peeled away, but Brady didn’t let her get too far. He kept his arm wrapped around her shoulders, close to his body. “The boys are looking good this year. I think we have a winning team.”

  “I hope so. And, don’t mind me, I won’t be bitter at all if you win the series the year after I retire.”

  “It would only be fitting,” Brady teased. Silence fell upon them as Brady exchanged looks with Marc, trying to put their plan into action.

  Coughing, Marc held his chest and said, “Oh, man, I feel a little under the weather.”

  “Yeah, you don’t look good,” Brady added.

  “I don’t feel good. Maybe it was a bad hot dog.”

  “Gross,” Patty commented.

  “What a fiancé. All you can say is gross? You’re not going to take care of me?”

  “You look fine to me,” Patty looked Marc up and down.

  “How can you say that when I’m clearly sick?”

  Patty gave him a “get real” look, her arms crossed over her chest.

  “Fine, I didn’t want to say this in front of company, but if you don’t get me out of here soon, I’m going to shit my pants. I have the sweats; get me out of here, Patty Cakes.”

  “Eww. Ugh, you’re so gross. This doesn’t make me want to marry you, you know that, right?”

  “Guys, shit, it happens,” Brady said, helping his friend out.

  Patty turned to Jane. “Do you want to come with us? Or are you going to stay here?”

  Jane observed Marc in his crouch of gastral fake pain and then eyed Brady up and down. “Hard choice. What’s the lesser of the two evils?”

  “Hurry up,” Marc said, now dancing in place.

  “You’re really going to pick explosive diarrhea over me?” Brady felt a little wounded, but by the look on Jane’s face, he knew she wouldn’t choose Marc. She almost seemed curious.

  “I guess I’ll stay here.”

  “Okay, see you tomorrow,” Marc said quickly, pulling Patty along with him.

  That left Brady alone with Jane, and he knew exactly what he was going to do with her.

  **Patty**

  The car door shut and Patty turned to Marc, who was starting their rental car. “What was that all about?”

  “What was what about?” Marc replied, innocence in his voice.
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  “You don’t have to poop.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I’ve known you long enough to know what your poop face looks like.”

  “No, you don’t,” Marc laughed.

  “Oh, yeah? Look familiar?” Patty scrunched her face up and made her lips thin.

  “That is not my poop face,” Marc full belly laughed.

  “It is too! Every morning, after you sip your coffee, you make that face and then you run to the bathroom. I know what your poop face looks like, so do you mind telling me what is going on?”

  “Fine, I don’t have to poop.”

  “I figured that out, genius. Were you meddling in Jane and Brady’s relationship?”

  “No…” Marc said hesitantly.

  “Marc.”

  He threw his hands up in frustration. “What do you expect? Of course I’m meddling. Brady asked us to ditch Jane after the game so he could get some alone time. I had to come up with some kind of excuse to separate us.”

  “So you faked diarrhea?”

  “Yeah, seemed like the simplest thing to do.”

  “You held onto your ass as we walked away. Aren’t you ashamed?”

  Marc thought about it for a second, and then shook his head. “Ehh, it did the job.”

  “People were judging you.”

  “Let them judge. I don’t care about anyone’s opinion except yours.”

  “Is that right?” Patty asked. “Well then you must know my opinion of you is pretty low right now. I’ve never wanted to clam up as much as I do now.”

  “What does that mean?” Marc asked hesitantly.

  Patty waved at Marc’s waist. “Your little poop maneuver did nothing for my libido, so if you think you’ll be getting any tonight, you’re wrong.”

  “Why are you making such hasty decisions right now? You don’t even know what I have planned for you. I don’t think you can subtract from our to-do list tonight without experiencing what I have planned.”

  “If it includes you holding onto your ass while we walk, I’m pretty sure I can tell you right now…you will be sleeping in another bed.”