Dirty Curve by Meagan Brandy
CHAPTER 20
Tobias
The ball slaps into Echo’s glove with a loud thwack, and my mouth curves high.
The team’s on the field in seconds, but they got an earful from Coach the last time they hopped up on my back, so it’s nothing but shouts and muscle flexes, a couple back pats and some fucker snags the hat off my head.
Echo, though, he doesn’t give a shit if he gets chewed out.
“That was a hell of a yakker, son!” He bends his big ass down and hoists me up on his shoulders, spinning to face Cal Poly’s top hitter ... who didn’t make contact with a single ball today.
The redheaded dude flips me off, spitting on the dirt, and we laugh.
“Damn, Rogers, spitting on your own field?” Echo chuckles. “That’s rough, my man. Better luck tomorrow, huh?”
“Fuck you, stay away from our clubhouse tonight, assholes.” He glares, bumping into his teammate as he backs away.
“Eight o’clock sharp?” Echo nods, lowering me to my feet before wrapping his arms around my neck and yanking me to him. “Heard, son. Heard.”
“You’re a dick.” I laugh, catching my glove as Coach tosses it to me.
Echo makes his way into the dugout as Coach steps in front of me. He grips my shoulder a moment and keeps his eyes on mine as he tips his chin the slightest bit. The gesture may seem small to some, but it’s not to me. A sense of pride swells in my chest and I nod back.
“For you, Coach.”
“No, not today. This team hasn’t lost to our program in twenty years, son, and not only did they lose at home, but they didn’t bring a single bastard across the plate.” He gives my shoulder a short squeeze. “This one’s for you.”
My jaw clenches as my mother’s words from this morning come crashing into my mind, as does the way my father sat back and said nothing. But Meyer didn’t.
She spoke up when I couldn’t, when my father wouldn’t.
Just like Coach did the night I begged my parents to allow him over for dinner.
“Come talk to me after showers,” he says as he walks away.
Echo jogs over, his gear now off and jumps up, attempting to catch me in a headlock, but I tear myself free, snagging my hat from his hand.
“You’re coming out with us tonight.”
“Nah, man.” I put my hat on my head, moving my eyes his way.
“Yeah, man.” Echo shoves me. “This is your hometown; you need to let these Cal Poly boys know it.”
“After today, you think there’s a question?”
“Okay, there’s my cocky boy.”
“Fuck you.” I chuckle.
“No, Cruz.” He makes a show of biting his knuckles. “Fuck that. On the floor, on a chair, against the motherfucking tunnel walls ...”
I laugh, eyeing the prize he’s pointed out, and what do you know, she starts walking over.
It’s not until she’s within earshot that the hand behind her back becomes visible, a microphone tucked tightly inside it.
Echo’s head falls with a full groan. “We know who she’s after. I’ll take the friend,” he teases, escaping a whole two seconds before the brunette’s cameraman is front and center.
She lifts a brow, but I laugh it off, and her smirk turns into a smile.
I spot Coach looking this way. He signals with a small nod for me to entertain the girl, so as her hand comes down on my bicep, I put on my best grin.
She switches into sassy secretary mode as she slips closer, looking back and forth between the camera and myself. “I’m here with the man everyone is dying to get their hands on, the one and only Tobias Cruz.”
My grin turns into a smirk, and I think the girl is pleased.
Time to kick the charm up to ten.
It’s like Coach says, exposure is key and personality wins every time.