Third Base (The Boys of Summer Book 1)

As soon as my cleats hit the concrete walkway out to the dugout, my heart starts racing. I’m anxious to see her and even though I see her almost every day, everything is different. Sex changes everything. The only time it doesn’t is when it’s a hook-up and you never intend to see that person again. I intend to see Daisy every fucking day until she tells me to stop.

The moment I climb the steps I’m looking left. She’s there with her grandfather. I’m not close enough to see his expression, but that’s about to change. I can’t help the movement of my feet as I walk over to her. Kids come rushing down for autographs and I oblige each and every request, looking at her briefly in between each signing.

When the usher stands by the gate blocking people from being near her, even though that’s not really what he’s doing, I know it’s my opportunity to talk to her.

She stands when she sees me walking toward her. I wave to the usher, who nods and moves up a few steps so she can come over to the gate.

“I really want to kiss you right now,” I say, clasping my hands together in front of me. My cup prevents anyone from seeing the semi forming in my pants.

“I think the staff would frown on such behavior.”

I nod in full agreement. “So would your grandfather. I think his idea of how baseball players’ act would not coincide with me sticking my tongue down his granddaughter’s throat.”

Daisy laughs and covers her mouth. She looks over her shoulder, beaming at her grandpa and I’m instantly jealous that she’s getting moments like this with him. I miss mine and now I’m going to call my mom and arrange for everyone to come out here for a week.

I do something that isn’t against the rules, but frowned upon nonetheless. I open the gate and take the few steps to talk to John. Fans see this and start rushing my way, but the usher calls for them to back up and now we’re being blocked from people bum rushing us, giving us minimal privacy.

“How are you doing?” I ask, shaking his hand.

“Oh young man, I’m a very happy man right now and I have you to thank for this.” He spreads his arm out and looks over the stadium. I don’t miss the slight watering in his eyes, but that doesn’t need to be brought to his attention.

“I like hearing that. I hope we can make it worthwhile for you. I know you’re missing Jeopardy.”

He laughs and squeezes my hand. I pat him on the back and walk back toward the gate, subtly touching Daisy’s hip when I pass.

“I’ll be over tonight,” she says, winking and sending the nerve endings in my body to heightened alert.

“Fuck me,” I mumble when I pass through the gate. I look over my shoulder and smile. “I’ll be there.”

I jog out to the outfield to see Kidd and the other guys. If I don’t do it now, it’ll happen in the clubhouse and I’m not sure if I’m ready to answer any of the media’s questions about Daisy. My teammates are a different story.

Bainbridge wraps his arm around my neck and rubs his knuckles over my hat. “Fucking wrap that shit tight, Davenport. The last thing you need right now is a pregnancy.”

“It’s okay, Bainbridge, his * packer is weak in that department,” Kidd yells as he catches one of Meyer’s pop flies.

“Fuck you, Kidd. I don’t see you with anyone.”

He looks at me after tossing the ball back toward the infield and says, “Why do you think I keep having parties that you never attend? I’m testing out the finer qualities of the Massachusetts women.”

“You’re going to get into trouble if you’re not careful,” Bainbridge adds.

“Nah. I know what no means.”

When I look at Kidd, I’m not so sure he does, but I hope that when a woman says it, it registers.





No one considers May to be a mid-season slump, unless you’re a Renegades fan. We’re racking up more losses than wins right now and heading into June, we’re well under 500 with a 24-30 record. This isn’t how our season is meant to go and it’s probably time for General Manager, Ryan Stone, to take a look at the coaching staff.

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