The Last Strike by A.R. Henry

Chapter 9

I’m standing at my kitchen stove fixing myself dinner when someone knocks on my door. Only two people know where I live and they’re both busy, so I fully expect to be told all about my Lord and savior Jesus Christ when I open the door. Much to my surprise the man standing on my steps is holding a toolbox, and I think he’d sooner sit me down for a lecture on baseball before he said anything about Jesus.

“Hey,” I smile and open the door all the way to let him in. “How’s it going Coach?”

Weston returns my smile and moves past me into the living room. “It’s going good. How was your day, Teach?”

I snort and head back towards the stove to check on dinner. “My day was great. Where’s Cami? And if you’re here to fix my lock I can pay you in food if you want,” I say pointing to the tools in his hands.

He heads over to the door that leads to the garage and sets his toolbox down, immediately getting to work. “She’s next door with Nana. I’m sure they’re fixing us something so don’t worry about it. Also, you aren’t paying me a dime sweetheart. I wasn’t raised to take money from a woman who needs help.”

Not exactly comfortable with being in his debt I say, “Well let me go and check with them real quick. If they haven’t started anything y’all can all eat with me. I always make too much anyways.”

He peaks over at me from where he’s working and says, “What’re you fixin’?”

A smile blooms on my face at his curiosity, “Meatloaf.”

His stomach grumbles in response, making me laugh, “I’ll be right back Bob the Builder. Don’t pass out from starvation while I’m gone.”

I return shortly with Mrs. W and Cami—and a Strawberry Pie Mrs. W made earlier—in tow. We find Weston washing his hands at the sink, and I saddle up next to him.

“All done?”

“Yeah, it was an easy fix. You should be good to go now.”

I nod, “Great. Thank you. I’ll find a way to pay you back.”

He looks down at me. His mouth is in a flat line, and he gives his head a single shake to say “no.” I grin and shrug back at him, then turn to set the table before he can argue further.

My meatloaf was cooked perfectly, but Mrs. W’s strawberry pie was the icing on the cake. We all groan when we finish eating; feeling overly stuffed and satisfied.

Cami turns to Weston, pulling on his shirt sleeve to get him to bend down so she can whisper in his ear. The thing about kids is that—bless them—they don’t know how to whisper. So, we all hear when she says, “This is nice Daddy.”

My insides just about burst from how sweet she is, but Weston’s response does me in. He turns his head to look at her full on, and the look he gives her takes my breath away. You can see how much he loves his baby girl. Then my ovaries combust when he tells her, “It sure is Bunny.”

Strike. Me. Down.

I’m dead.

Cami turns her attention to me and says, “Miss L”—my name is a little too long for the kids so that’s what I have them call me— “have you ever played baseball?”

Uh, oh.

I smile tightly because I already know where this is headed. “I have played a few times, but I’m not very good.”

She pulls on her dad’s shirt sleeve again. “Daddy you have to teach her like you do all the boys on your team.”

She turns her attention back to me. “Daddy is the best baseball teacher, Miss L. He takes me to hit balls in the cage all the time. Next time we go he’ll take you so he can teach you too, right Daddy?”

“Oh, that’s alright sweet girl I’m sure your daddy doesn’t have time to teach me,” I interrupt at the same time Weston says, “Sure, Bunny. We can teach her.”

I snap my head to look at him in shock.

He didn’t just agree to that.

Why would he agree to that?

He knows my athleticism is complete shit, but his answering smirk is all I need to know. This asshole is messing with me. He wants to have a laugh at my poor baseball skills.

Well, momma didn’t raise no quitter, and he just dished out a challenge.

A slow smile spreads across my face, and I slowly turn back to Cami.

“Okay sweet girl, the next time you and your daddy play baseball, count me in.”

I look at Weston with a shit-eating grin on my face, and he gives me one right back and it makes my smile falter for a second.

Did I just play right into that?

The look on his face tells me he knows exactly what I’m thinking.

What have I done?

 

I look at the time on my smartwatch and see that I’m five minutes early. I’m parked where Weston told me to meet him by the same practice field the school came to the other day. I wasn’t sure what to wear for batting practice, but I went with a UT tank top, black leggings, and my favorite pair of Lane Eight sneakers. I have my unruly brown hair somewhat tamed and pulled back into a ponytail with a UTK baseball cap to hopefully cover up the frizz. I’m wearing the bare minimum of makeup since I figured it would all sweat off anyways. I didn’t fuss too much.

Since I’m early I decide to pull out my phone and call Ash really quick. I, strangely, haven’t heard from her this week. She answers on the second ring, “Hey Court. What’s up?”

“What’s up is my best friend has fallen off the face of the Earth. Where have you been this week?”

“I know, I’m sorry. Work’s been crazy this week, but I should have some time next week to go out. I have a new place we need to try out anyways.”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll go out with you, but only because I want to know what’s really up with you. I’m not buying this work bullshit. I don’t think we’ve gone this long without talking since the Dean versus Jess fight in high school.”

“It’s not bullshit,” she says a little too quickly, giving herself away.

“Uh huh, you better have a better excuse when we meet because you know I’ll get the truth out of you.”

“Anyways, what are you doing tonight?”

“Nice subject change.”

“Answer the question unless you have something to hide too, missy.”

“Well...” Shoot. I wasn’t planning on telling her this. “I’m currently waiting outside of a baseball field where I’m supposed to meet a man who is going to teach me how to hit a baseball with a bat.”

There’s a long pause then she shrieks so loud I have to hold the phone away from my ear. At the same time, I see a large, black pickup truck pull into the spot next to mine. As soon as it’s in park I watch as Cami hops down out of the back.

“Ash!” I try yelling to get her attention over her freak out. “Ash, I have to go. I’ll call you later.” She’s still yelling when I hang up the phone.

Taking a deep breath, I get out of the car and greet them with an awkward wave and a, “Hi.”

Holy shit get it together Courtney. This is totally normal.

Cami’s already running off to the field, but Weston meets me at the front of his truck. He’s dressed in a UTK baseball shirt and running shorts with sneakers. And, of course, that signature backwards baseball hat.

I absently wonder what he looks like wearing nothing but the hat. On top of me. Whew, that’s hot. A shiver runs down my spine. I need to think about something else. I shouldn’t be perving on my “friend” here. It’s not right.

There’s a gym bag slung over one shoulder, and in his other hand he’s holding a bat. We smile at each other for a beat before he places a hand on my lower back and guides me towards the field.

“How’s it going, Cherry?”

I’m sure my voice sounds funny when I tell him, “It’s going good. How are you?”

He rakes his gaze over me for a few seconds before saying, “I’m good now.”

What. Was. That.

Does he mean that he’s good now because he’s with me?

No. There’s no way.

He must mean he’s good now because he’s off work, and spending time with Cami. But the way he paused when he looked down at me? There was no mistaking the heat in his eyes when he said that, but he just told me the other night he wasn’t interested in dating anyone. Before I can confuse myself further over the meaning of his words, he drops his bag down by the gate at the entrance to the field and yells for Cami.

He leads us through a few stretches before heading over to the pitcher’s mound. He lets Cami bat first since she knows what she’s doing, and I stay standing off to the side by the dugout. Watching Weston with his daughter makes my heart swell. He gives her words of encouragement right before every pitch and seeing this side of him just about brings me to my knees.

All too soon the moment’s over. His mask of indifference is back in place as he turns to me and says, “Come on Cherry, it’s your turn.” I stand up tall and push my shoulders down and back. Confidently making my way to the plate. I will not make an ass of myself in front of him again.

I take the bat from Cami and settle into my stance. When I look up at Weston, I see the corner of his lips tipped up. Bastard is enjoying the hell out of this. He knows I don’t have even an ounce of skill for this in my pinkie, but I’ll be damned if I let him embarrass me one more time.

There’s only one thing to do in this moment. Fake it till you make it. “Don’t go easy on me Coach. I can take it.” I have a fake confident smile plastered on my face that I know he can see right through.

“I’ll just throw you a few underhand first, so you can warm up,” he says then winks at me (Winks! At me!).

Even though he and I both know I’m not going to hit a single one of these balls, the fact that he’s not pointing it out has me feeling all kinds of things inside. Mostly warm things. In a certain lower region. It’s that damn backwards hat. It’s going to fucking end me.

After my third swing doesn’t even come close to connecting with the ball Weston notices my frustration. “Okay, why don’t you let me help you.”

Before I can come up with a smart ass comment he’s already behind me. I freeze as he wraps his arms around me. His head is turned into mine with his lips touching my ear as he whispers, “Relax, Cherry.” He places his hands over mine on the bat then has Cami stand on the mound to pitch to us.

Fuck.

My body is wound so tightly there’s no way I can protest. His entire body is pressed against mine, and I’m lit on fire inside and out. I want nothing more than to lean my head back against his shoulder and grind against him like we’re in a club. Suddenly I’m soaked. My insides are begging for release. I need to get laid. Now.

Shit.

The bat surely would have slipped out of my palms from how sweaty they are if he weren’t there to reinforce them. “Breath, Cherry,” he orders again, and I can’t deny how unbelievably sexy it sounds to have him command me like that.

I’m flooded with desire at this point, and his daughter is standing mere feet away.

I can’t help but wonder if he feels it too. Definitely not, right? I mean Cami is right there. He’s way too cold and professional to act like a desperate, horny teenager like I am. But he has to know how this is affecting me.

Cami throws a ball, and I hear Weston grunt in my ear as the ball connects with the bat. That grunt is my new favorite sound. Who knew a single grunt could be so erotic? The ball sails through the air towards third base, and I use the opportunity to jump out of Weston’s arms in excitement.

“I did it! Cami! Did you see that!” I bounce around in excitement and turn towards Weston with my arm raised for a high five. I stop bouncing when I see the gigantic smile on his face. He’s shaking his head, and I mistakenly think he’s saying no to the high five. My grin fades to a small smile as I ask, “What?”

But he doesn’t respond.

He pulls my arm back up and smacks my hand in a high five.

Weston Bell just gave me a high five.

Weston Bell just held me while we hit a baseball.

Weston Bell just made me fall for him a little bit more.

I have got to put a stop to this. We’re just supposed to be friends.