Security probably would have frowned on a crazed woman charging the field toward the team’s star player.
Folding my hands in my lap, I adjusted the red Devils hat Soren had picked up for me, determined to stay in my seat. My plan faltered when I noticed someone emerge from the dugout and walk toward him. It wasn’t another player—it was a girl. She was wearing a team jersey and a pair of khaki slacks—clearly she was a part of the team—but I felt my hackles rise.
Especially when I noticed what was bouncing rather impressively as she ran toward him. The girl had it in the front and in the back, curves where I had planes. I wasn’t the only one in the stands staring at her either. Half the male spectators were too.
Even her shiny, blonde ponytail bounced as she jogged toward him.
When she paused beside him, Soren lifted his hand at the pitcher to stop him. She was holding out a water bottle. When he nodded and tipped his head back, she sprayed a stream into his mouth. Once he’d swallowed, she said something else, to which he nodded, followed with another squirt of water directly into his mouth.
It looked like he said thanks after that drink, and she smiled and gave his shoulder a squeeze.
My blood felt scorching hot when her fingers curled into his shoulder. I felt very possessive of that shoulder at the moment. That was my shoulder.
With a wave, she flounced back to the dugout, bouncing her hard-to-ignore assets as she went. Weren’t water girls supposed to be, I don’t know, not so perky and pretty?
Soren was already back to throwing the ball with the pitcher before she’d moved away—his eyes never strayed from the ball—but none of that could calm the jealous lunatic who had busted out of her straitjacket.
After a few more throws, he rose and moved toward the dugout. He only made it a few steps before he froze in place. He’d seen me. Even through his mask, I could see his eyes blink a few times, like he was clearing his vision, before they rounded.
When he slid his mask up over his ball cap, his grin took up half of his face. Moving like he was running the bases, his direction changed from the dugout to where I was stationed at the fence. People in the stands were starting to notice, and the ones closest to me on the bench stepped a little aside, like they were expecting his next move.
They were right. Soren didn’t slow or say a word when he made it to the fence—he just leapt over it in one smooth motion, his body smashing into mine as soon as he’d cleared it.
A note of surprise managed to escape me before his mouth covered mine at the same time his arms circled me, one at a time. I didn’t care who was watching or how many were. I didn’t care about anything besides the man holding me, his lips trying to make up for days of separation. His mitt pressed into my back, drawing me closer, and somewhere in the midst of my hands running over him, I managed to knock his catcher’s mask from his head.
A cheer rolled through the crowd as we kissed. When they started chanting “Charge!” Soren’s smile curved against my mouth.
“That’s one hell of a hello.” My arms were tied around his neck, and I wasn’t sure I could let go so he could finish a few more innings.
His lips touched mine once more. “Just getting warmed up.” His hips barely tipped into mine to reveal just how warmed up he was getting. Even through his cup, I could feel him.
“Hey, Lover Boy!” An older man wearing a uniform emerged from the dugout, waving at the two of us sandwiched together against the fence. “You’ve got a game to finish.”
Soren lifted his arm at his coach, dropping his forehead to mine and taking one long breath. “Thank you. Best surprise ever.”
After leaping back over the fence, he snagged the mask that had toppled over it and started toward the dugout, running backward so he didn’t have to look away.
“Hit a home run for me.” I fought a laugh when he bumped into the edge of the dugout.
He rubbed his shoulder mindlessly, a permanent smile on his face. “How many?”
My eyes rolled. “Show-off.”
After he disappeared into the dugout as the other team took the field, I needed a minute to put my feet back on the ground. That might have been the best welcome in the history of welcomes. My toes were tingling from that kiss, and everything else tingled from the relief of having him close again.
It was hard to go back to sitting on a bench, but I loved watching Soren play baseball. I didn’t know much about the game, other than the basics, but I didn’t come to watch the game. I came to watch him. His passion for the sport was evident in everything he did on the field—he moved with the kind of ease that suggested he’d been born to play the sport.
When he emerged from the dugout a couple minutes later, he took a few practice swings before making his way back over to my area of the fence. “You want that homer going over right, left, or center field?”
I leaned forward in my seat. “Your ego’s showing. Might want to cover it up a bit before you offend someone.”
Soren tapped his cleats with the end of the bat, his mouth working. “Where do you want it?”
“What’s going to be the hardest?”
His shoulder lifted, like left was just as easy as right, as was center.
“Ego level, obscene.”
“I’d do anything for you, including lie, cheat, steal, and kill. Hitting a home run is nothing.”
Holding my stare until the last second, he turned to move into the on-deck position. I thought that was what it was called anyway. Deck something.
As Soren took his place at home plate, he looked perfectly calm. Focused. The first pitch the pitcher threw, he swung at. There was the crack as the bat connected, the whiz of the ball driving deep, then the roar of a crowd jumping to its feet as Soren Decker added another home run to his stats.
Before he rounded first, he glanced over at where I was glued to the fence. He winked, a smirk already in place.
The last couple of innings went the same way. Soren managed to knock one more out of the park before the end of the game, along with catching a couple of fouls at the top of the ninth.
It was hard to watch anyone else on his team. I wasn’t the only one drawn to number twenty-three’s every move though. He stood out. A lot. His team was good—god knew I’d had to listen to him brag about them all season—but they looked like a bunch of little leaguers compared to Soren. He played at a different level. It wasn’t just the filter I saw Soren through that led me to that conclusion—it was the way it was.
Soren was going to make it. He was going to live his dream of playing for some professional team. At the same time my eyes welled with pride, they stung from the tears of bittersweetness.
My dream had come to life. His dream was about to.