Rounding the Bases by Jaqueline Snowe

Chapter Eight

Brigham

Sarah lost the glow from meeting various potential clients, and in place of that excitement was nervousness. She chewed on her thumbnail for most of the ride back to the apartment and she didn’t have a witty remark for Ferdinand when he scoffed at our return. She still held my hand, though, and I waited until we got into the elevator to find out why her demeanor had changed. “Sarah.”

“Uh-oh, my name. Not my nickname. That’s not good news,” she said, speaking way too fast and releasing my hand.

“Why are you nervous? I thought you had a good time tonight.” I paused. “Unless I’m really off my game.”

“No. I did. I really did.” She put her hands on her slim hips and pressed her red lips together tight. “It was the best date—only date, really—that I’ve been on.”

“Only date?” I asked, laughing at the end. “No way.”

“Yes way, Brigham.” She sighed and a hurt look crossed her face. “This won’t be a shock to you, but I’m not…experienced, okay? Dating, men, kissing stuff…it’s not my forte.” She crossed her arms and couldn’t stand still more than a few seconds. “I keep thinking about your comment about kissing me more and I’m nervous. What if I kiss poorly and messy and unlike your other experiences? Are we friends? Do friends kiss? All of this is going in my brain and you look like you do and I look like me and—”

“Sweetheart,” I said, pulling her into a hug against me. She wrapped her arms around my waist and I cradled the back of her head. “With all those thoughts, no wonder you were chewing the shit out of your fingernail.”

“Ugh.” She groaned into my chest and it made me laugh. “I’m embarrassed. This isn’t a way to end a date.”

“No. It’s not.”

The elevator doors opened on our floor, and I walked her down to Mr. Alexandre’s door and thought about my next move. I could kiss her, invite myself in or invite her over. She reacted to my touch—that was for sure—and I knew I could make her feel good, but she needed space. It would do me good to take a step back and go slow for the first time ever. “Thank you for coming with me tonight.”

“You’re welcome.” She leaned against the black door and looked up at me with heavy eyes, filled with want and uncertainty. “It was great meeting all those people. Thank you.”

I nodded and ran a finger down her neck and traced her throat until I could cup her chin in my hand. “Can I kiss you goodnight?”

“Please. Please.”

She met me halfway and threw her arms around my shoulders when our mouths met for the third time that night. She kissed with so much passion that it was messy but incredible. She had a faint scent of whiskey on her breath and my dick twitched when she parted her lips just enough for me to slip my tongue inside her mouth. My god.

She moaned when I tilted her neck back so I could kiss her deeper, harder, and I wanted to spend hours with my mouth on hers. Her gasps between kisses, the sound of pleasure coming from her throat and her needy hands digging into my arms were so fucking sexy I had to pull back before I took it too far.

Her lips were swollen and her rapid breathing matched mine. She brought her fingers up to them and touched her bottom one as she widened her eyes. “I like kissing you.”

“I feel the same way about you, Blue Bell.” I stepped backward toward my door and felt something along the lines of giddy and horny. It was weird and new. “Have a good night.”

“Uh-huh.” She had a dazed look on her face before she ran inside, leaving me standing in the hallway with a stupid-ass grin. I liked my temporary neighbor. I really did.

I just hoped I could keep my shitshow life away from her.

* * * *

Too many good things had happened within a twenty-four-hour period, and that made me nervous. The date with Sarah, the return of baseball after way too much time off and an email from my lawyer that said previous witnesses were retracting their statements incriminating me. I had done too much shit in my life to think karma owed me anything, and I kept waiting for the ball to drop. My bags were packed for our two-week road trip and while the game was my escape, the thought of not seeing Sarah for two weeks sucked. I tried to time it so I would run into her that morning, but it didn’t work. A text would have to work, and the thought depressed me.

“Yo, Brigs, how pumped are you to be back in the season?” Gideon sat next to me on the flight and grabbed large headphones to put over his ears. He looked ridiculous, but I kept my mouth shut.

“Feels great, man.” I mirrored his action and was about to start my road trip playlist when our coach said my name. “Yeah, sir?”

“Come up here a minute.”

Shit.This had to be the other shoe dropping. I wasn’t playing anymore or I was getting sent down to the minors. That had to be it. My palms sweated and the muscles in my neck tensed to the point of pain as I walked down the narrow aisle to where he sat in one of the first rows. He motioned for me to sit and I did, rubbing my hands over my knees in a rhythmic pattern. “What’s going on, Coach?” I asked, my throat completely dry and scratchy.

“How you doing?”

“Honestly, not great.” I barked out a fake laugh. “Excited to be back. Didn’t like sitting around without a lot to do.”

“Didn’t take some time for your family?” He frowned and took a sip from a plastic coffee cup. He always had sunflower seeds and black coffee. It was his signature move and a familiar scent of salt and grinds.

I shook my head. “No, sir. They don’t live in the area and my lawyer thought it best I stay in the city.”

“Ah, yes. I see. You passed all the drug tests, right?” He scanned a sheet of paper sitting on the empty chair next to him.

“Yes, sir. They tested me for cocaine—hell, they tested me for any substance abuse, and they all came back negative. One of the witnesses in the case originally claimed I was selling it. They are attempting to go that route.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re back. You did your fifteen days. Let’s move forward.”

“Coach,” I said, hating how I had gotten the suspension even though I hadn’t fucking done anything. “It isn’t true. It was a wrong place, wrong time situation. It is important for you to know that.”

“Okay, Brigham,” he said, giving me a curt nod. “Thanks for the conversation.”

And I was dismissed. Just like that. I rolled my shoulders to get the leftover anxiety out and made my way back to my seat. We had a four-game stay in Los Angeles before heading to San Francisco and San Diego. I got my playlist up, relaxed into the seat and thought about Sarah. What would she think of this?

Would she believe me or assume I was guilty?

Just thinking of her made me happier, and I got my phone out.

Brigham: Whatcha up to, Blue Bell?

BB: Baking cookie dough brownies for Fernie. He only glared at me twice today so I’m feeling nice. I started making some for you, too. ☺

My chest got tight, thinking about her trying to deliver it to my door. I should’ve told her. I knew it, but being around her was so distracting that baseball didn’t seem as important.

Brigham: I’m an ass. I’m sorry. I’m out of town for ten days.

BB: When do you leave?

Brigham: I’m on the plane now. Fuck, we left early and I tried to run into you.

BB: Ten days. The brownies won’t last that long.

Brigham: I will miss your face.

BB: Is this for sports ball or work? Can I ask that? Is that too personal?

Brigham: You can ask me anything you want. And yes, it’s my job.

BB: I wish you would’ve told me last night. I’ve been fretting over seeing you again after that kiss and now I can settle down for ten days.

Her candor made me chuckle and relieved the worry about making her upset.

Brigham: You been thinking about our kiss a lot?

BB: Almost every other minute.

BB: I’m not good at playing it cool or trying to flirt. Ethan says I’m shit at it, so how about we talk in ten days. Bye!

Brigham: Nice try, BB. I’m bored. Give me an update on the dogs.

And nothing. No three little dots popping up and no message coming in. She wasn’t one to play games and I worried that she would actually not respond for ten days. Fuck. I couldn’t wait that long to talk to her. She was like a breath of fresh air and I was selfish and wanted more of her time. It took some restraint, but I didn’t text her again and focused on our upcoming game. We were up two games in the division and while one loss here and there wouldn’t matter, every game felt like a try-out for me.

A way to get my contract extended, or become a free agent.

We arrived at the opposing teams’ clubhouse and went through our pre-game routine. Some guys were superstitious and never washed their socks if they had a good game. I didn’t believe in that shit. We had good days and bad, and the beautiful thing about baseball was that it could really all come down to one pitch.

“Welcome back, bro.”

I looked up and found Samson Thomas standing next to my temporary locker with his hands on his hips and a sneer on his face. I couldn’t call him a friendly rival, because the dude had been pretty happy when I’d been forced to sit out fifteen games, but I didn’t hate the guy. He was hungry for success and I was in his way. “Thanks, Samson.”

“Looks like you’re starting today.”

“Yeah. Perks of hitting right side.”

He scowled and hit my locker. “Mess up once, Brigs, I’m right there behind you.”

“I know. Competition makes me play better, though, so keep being an ass. It’ll help my average.”

He flipped me the bird and made me chuckle. I missed this shit. The pre-game nerves, the smell of Gatorade, sweat, old leather and chewing tobacco. I wasn’t lying to him, though. The fact that he wanted my starting spot so damn bad fueled my fire and I got dressed, warmed up and stretched with the goal of kicking ass.

And I did.

* * * *

It was a quick game and we won by two runs, courtesy of my two-run homerun, and it felt fucking good. Gideon clapped my back while Brigham and Tate—the clubhouse guy who had been around for years—gave me a knowing look. It was common that the guy with the winning hit would get dibs on the bus to the hotel. It was stupid but consistent, and I would relish that opportunity.

“Kicked ass, man. Take another fifteen days off, huh?” Gideon said, tossing a towel at me. “It’s nice having you back.”

“It’s like I have oxygen in my lungs again.”

Brigham and Tate nodded, like they understood. And they probably did. The game was a religion to us. I showered, dressed in post-game wear and went to the press room where I was expected to talk. Coach’s expression tightened as I met him outside the small room, and it would have been foolish to not be nervous. The press would ask about the arrest, the drugs, all of it. I had to answer in a calm voice, not lose my temper and deflect. That was my plan.

“You’ll be fine. You’ve been in the game long enough,” Coach said, pushing the door open and motioning me to go first. Microphones lined the small table and only about ten reporters were in the room. They looked excited and my mind spiraled.

Will Brigham Monaghan fuck it up? Will the party playboy give us a quote we can take out of context? Does he have drugs now?

I shook my head, cleared my mind and prepared for them like it was an at-bat. “Good to see everyone again,” I said into the microphone, smiling and meeting their eyes. “It’s been a bit.”

“Brigham, Jayce from SportsMania. Tell me, how does the arrest affect your playing?”

I shrugged and tried to look humble. “Let’s look at the box score and revisit this.”

Everyone chuckled lightly, and I relaxed for a bit. Someone else popped the next question, and after about five minutes of commentary on the game and my triumphant return, a short dude with hairy arms raised his hand. I nodded at him to go. He had a gross face with acne and a sneer that didn’t sit well with me.

“How do you feel about the latest wave in the case?”

“The fact that a witness is retracting a false statement?”

“No.” He laughed and it sounded like a little mouse. “The latest headlines that you bribed the cops. Word is a tape was released and you’re on camera bribing an officer. That’s a felony, my man.”