But Sherlock came set, preparing to pitch, and then it was thrown.

  The ball hit Steal in his left upper shoulder as he turned away from the impact.

  “Dammit!” David roared as Steal threw his bat down, charging out to the mound. “Steal!”

  But it was too late. The benches of both teams cleared, and Steal landed a powerful punch into Sherlock’s jaw. The infielders were no help, taking Sherlock’s side and egging on the fight.

  David had no such loyalty. He shoved through them and grabbed Steal around the waist, using all of his might in an attempt to haul him off of Sherlock. One of the Ice players grabbed at David’s jersey, and he glared at the fool.

  “Are you going to get him out of here?” he demanded of him. “Huh?”

  Sensing, rightly so, that he should stay out of it, the player turned to fight with someone else.

  Steal was in no mood to be hauled away, but David moved his arms up until he could lock his hands behind Steal’s neck, restraining his arms, and forced his friend to turn away.

  “Come on, man,” David grunted as he led him through the mass of players. “Come on.”

  “Get off!” Steal demanded, thrashing himself out of his hold. He whirled and stared at David, his eyes wild.

  David held up a hand and pressed it to Steal’s chest. “Stay. That’s enough. Come on, walk it off.”

  Steal inhaled and exhaled rapidly, wiped at his bleeding nose, and shook his head, storming towards his dugout.

  The umpire stopped him and threw him out of the game with too much dramatics for David’s taste. Steal immediately got into a shouting match with the umpire, which his coaches took over, getting him out of there before worse punishment could come of it.

  David rubbed at his eyes and looked back to the mound, where the more sensible players were separating the hotheads. He had no desire to get back into that mess, so he turned and walked back to home plate, perfectly content to wait until they could play again.

  “What a mess, Grizz,” the umpire said with a groan, craning his neck.

  “Sherlock did that on purpose, sir,” David replied as he spat into the dirt.

  The ump gave him a look. “And Cox charged him. He could have just taken the walk. I stand by the ejection.”

  David nodded once, knowing better than to fight it. He waited for the field to clear, then sank into position as the next Ice batter approached.

  “Still have to babysit your Belltown boy, huh, Grizz?” the batter sneered. “You gonna ground him next for shaming the Lumberjack?”

  David got to his feet in one smooth motion, towering over the batter by a good six inches and at least thirty pounds. He said nothing, and the umpire put his hands between them, though it wasn’t necessary.

  The batter stared up at David with wide eyes, no longer confident or sneering in any way.

  David stared right back, his jaw tight.

  “Back off, gentlemen,” the umpire barked.

  The batter took a step back, out of the box, and pretended to check his bat, his throat moving on a swallow.

  David slowly moved back to his position behind the plate, where he silently finished the inning and silently returned to the dugout and his team.

  “Whoo!” Tiny bounded over to David as he came to the dugout. “Grizzy, that was beautiful! What did he say, huh?”

  “Grizzy, I haven’t seen you that fired up in ages!” Cowboy laughed. “I thought you were going to pound him, and we’d get round two!”

  Lima slapped his thigh, cackling madly. “Hey Grizz, remember when you knocked Gavin Locke’s lights out?”

  “No.”

  “Yeah, yeah, and a petition went around to get your suspension pardoned?” Tiny added brightly.

  “Nope.”

  “Locke had a black eye for like two months,” Crocket reminded the group.

  “Did he?”

  Groans filled the dugout. “Come on, Grizz!” Tiny protested. “It’s still got a hundred thousand views on YouTube.”

  “Don’t remember, don’t care,” David said flatly. “Now everybody shut up and finish the game.”

  Thankfully, they left him alone for the rest of the inning and the rest of the game, as well as during showering and treatment after the game.

  David only felt he could sigh when he left the clubhouse, and even then he was surrounded by reporters and photographers ready to capture the Belltown Bet for the news.

  “Grizz! Grizz!” they called, randomly adding to the noise he was already dealing with.

  He ignored them and pushed through without even a smile.

  “Grizz!” an intrepid reporter he recognized from the local paper called, waving his hand. “How are you going to make Levi Cox pay for that fight and for losing? The Belltown Bet take brawls into account?”

  David stopped, unable to move past the guy without addressing that. He turned and glared, just as he had in the sixth inning.

  Everyone around him went quiet.

  “I think,” David said softly, “that Levi has been through enough tonight. Don’t you?”

  Without waiting for a reply, he pushed through the rest of the reporters towards the players’ parking lot and pulled out his phone to text Rachel. He needed her, needed to hold her, needed her warmth…

  “Hey you.”

  He looked up in surprise and paused when he saw Rachel there, waiting for him, leaning against his truck with a gentle smile.

  He swallowed once, then moved into her open arms and let her hold him.

  CHAPTER 14

  Rachel felt like an idiot.

  She looked great, her early rising and meticulous post-morning yoga routine seeing to a careful creation of a minimal-makeup appearance. When paired with black workout leggings, a loose T-shirt, and a Belltown fleece she’d swiped from David’s closet last week, she was fairly confident she looked just right for a lazy Sunday morning. David didn’t seem to care what she wore or how she appeared most of the time, but the flash of interest in his eyes was worth trying for.

  What she was not so confident in was sitting on the steps of his condo in this upscale part of Pittsburgh, waiting for him to come home.

  His beloved truck, which she’d secretly named Delilah on account of the axe decal on the back window, was in its usual spot, but he wasn’t answering phone calls or texts. She could only conclude that he was out for a run, so here she would wait.

  Like a moron.

  In theory, it would be a perfect scene out of a romcom. The girl sitting on the steps of her beloved’s home with a treat for him, knowing he might need some encouragement and love, while wanting to get some loving affection in return. It was the sort of staged-to-be-casual scene she’d seen a dozen times.

  But this wasn’t the chic setting of New York City, and the morning shadows were cold. Drivers cruising by gave her bizarre looks, and the smell of exhaust, combined with the sound of those cruising cars, just made for a pathetic scene.

  Five more minutes. That was all she was giving him. Another shiver raced up her spine, and she rubbed her arms with a shake of her head.

  “You’re an idiot, Rachel Grace,” she muttered, tucking a bit of hair behind her ear.

  Still, something in her gut told her to wait, pathetic and idiotic picture or not. Last night’s game had been miserable for him, and he hadn’t said a word after. He’d just held her, and she’d held him back. She didn’t know if he needed her to hold him again this morning, but her heart told her to go, so here she was.

  The faint sound of shoes slapping on pavement made her perk up, and she looked up and down the sidewalk in anticipation.

  Crossing the street onto David’s block was the man himself, jogging in black basketball shorts and a faded gray Belltown T-shirt that had been cut down to a muscle shirt. The shirt was dark in places from sweat, and the wires of his headphones bounced against him with every step. His eyes were straight ahead and unfocused, his face flushed and glinting in the morning light.

  He hadn’t seen her, probably wasn’t even looking for her, and one look at him told her there was a lot on his mind.

  Rachel smiled softly for no reason at all as she watched him come closer. It was just good to see him. It felt right.

  David’s eyes flicked up to his condo, landing on Rachel as they did so. His brows shot up, and a smile parted his mustache from his beard adorably.

  She waved a little and awkwardly stood, shoving her hands into the pockets of the fleece jacket.

  David stopped in front of her and pulled his earbuds out, yanking the iPod strapped to his arm off and shoving both into his pockets. “Good morning, gorgeous.”

  Rachel grinned. “Hey, hot stuff.”

  His warm laugh sent a wash of heat through her, and the way his eyes moved to take her in sent a blush into her face that she was sure matched his own coloring at the moment. “To what do I owe this gift?” he rumbled with interest, taking a step towards her.

  She lifted her shoulder in a shrug. “I thought you could use a treat.”

  He surprised her by slipping his hands into the pockets of her jacket and tugging her down a step, bringing her almost flush with him. “I sure could,” he murmured just before his lips descended on hers.

  Within the pockets of the jacket, she laced her fingers with his and clung tight. Arching up on her toes, she leaned into the kiss as much as she was able, keeping her lips soft, letting him take the lead however he wanted to. There was an edge of need in his kiss that made her heart ache, though she didn’t understand why.

  David broke off before she expected and kissed her brow very softly. “Seeing you here waiting for me, wearing my jacket, I might add, is the best treat I could ever ask for, babe. I can’t even tell you how much it means to me.”

  Rachel smiled, tilting her face up to kiss him on the lips. “The jacket smells like you. I’ve been wearing it nonstop since I swiped it.”

  He laughed again, his fingers toying with hers as they still lay contained in the pockets. “Do you know what that sort of thing means to a guy, Rach? We get all kinds of primal, possessive feelings.”

  “Oh good,” she replied, quirking her brows. “I was hoping it was like that.”

  Now he threw back his head and laughed, sliding his hands out from the pockets and setting them at her hips. “You were, huh? I love you so much.” He shook his head and kissed her quickly. “Come on in. I need a shower before I hug you good and proper.”

  Rachel turned and grabbed the bag she’d had sitting beside her the whole time. “I also brought donuts.”

  David paused on the step, still smiling at her. “Woman, you are perfection.”

  “I do try,” she demurred with a little curtsey.

  He shook his head and let them into the condo, kicking off his shoes in the entryway before taking her hand and leading her back to the living room. “You okay to hang out here for five minutes? Forage all you want in the kitchen, TV remote is there. Don’t DVR any of your home-renovation shows while I’m gone.”

  Rachel put her hands on her hips as she faced his grin. “Excuse you. You can’t give me control of the remote and then dictate what I do with it.”

  “Can too.” He raised a daring brow. “My house, my rules.”

  Narrowing her eyes, Rachel slowly moved towards him, a surge of satisfaction roaring to life as his grin, and his smugness, faded with every step. “Oh really?” she drawled on her way to him.

  His throat constricted with a swallow, his blue eyes fixed on her.

  She stood nearly toe to toe with him, then brought a finger to the paw tattoo on his arm. She slowly traced the edges of it, just as she’d imagined doing at least a dozen times since she’d seen him in Sports Monthly. Her lips curved as goose bumps began to rise on his skin.

  “Well,” she murmured as she continued to trace it. “My man, my rules. Right?”

  Some incoherent noise emitted from him but seemed trapped somewhere in his chest and throat, making her smile spread. She took one step around him and pressed her lips to the center of his tattoo. “I’m going to take that as a yes, David,” she told him, her lips still in contact with his skin. “That okay?”

  He only exhaled, making her giggle and kiss his arm lightly before stepping away and moving back to the couch. “Have a nice shower.”

  She didn’t hear him move, so she glanced back at him.

  David was still standing there, staring at her, his eyes impossibly blue. “You don’t play fair, Rachel Bennett,” he growled. “And I’m this close to forgetting the shower and shamelessly taking advantage of you right there on my couch.”

  Rachel choked out an almost-hysterical laugh. “No! Go shower, you dork! I’ll sit right here, prim and proper, and if you’re quick, I won’t even start eating donuts without you.”

  “I never thought I’d say this, but donuts aren’t even on my mind right now. Or on my breakfast menu.”

  Her eyes shot to his, her laughter freezing in her chest as her body stilled. He was completely and entirely focused on her, and she wasn’t sure she’d ever realized just how powerful he looked. How completely masculine and hopelessly addicting. Raw and beautiful, and, somehow, he was hers.

  Something hot began to curl in the pit of her stomach, reminding her of that overheated feeling she’d had seeing the magazine, but this was so much more.

  This was all-out combustion of everything she thought, knew, or had ever felt.

  Rachel inhaled a very unsteady breath, then exhaled it very slowly. “Whoa,” she whispered, the tension between them robbing her of anything coherent or intelligent to say.

  “Yeah.” He swallowed and cleared his throat. “Yeah.” He ran a hand through his hair, then turned and strode out of sight, moving up the stairs to his bedroom.

  Freed from that mind-blowing moment, Rachel slid down the leather couch and covered her face with her hands, focusing on inhaling and exhaling.

  Was it possible to actually die from wanting a man so much? Or from loving him so hard she felt sick at the moment? This was the most ridiculous thing she had ever felt, and the continual waves of intensity overwhelmed her.

  She was playing with fire, and she had been burned. The best kind of burned, a fun and, quite frankly, really hot kind of burned, but not something she should play with anymore.

  Or, at least, not very often.

  Not if she wanted sanity or to not end up trying to explain to her brother about her relationship with David as Sawyer walked her down the aisle of their shotgun wedding.

  Even the mental picture made her giggle, and she dropped her hands, staring up at the ceiling as she lay on the couch in a puddle of melted goodness.

  Sawyer. She had to tell him at some point. She’d avoided posting any pictures of her and David, more for protecting his privacy than anything else, but it wasn’t fair for their relationship to be getting so serious and so deep without Sawyer knowing.

  Her mom had promised not to say anything, but Rachel knew it was killing her not to gush about them to her friends. The moment she did, all of Belltown would be in on the gossip, and they’d never be able to go back without someone saying something about it.

  And when Belltown knew, so would the world.

  The Six Pack had that sort of effect and that kind of pull.

  If she played with fire and melted into couches on David’s account much longer, the news would break somewhere else before Sawyer knew.

  He deserved better than that.

  Rachel sat up and pulled out her phone, looking up the Knights’ schedule quickly.

  “Tweeting pictures of my bachelor pad?”

  She looked up to see David there in jeans, pulling a shirt over his head, his washboard abs on blatant display for just long enough to make her mouth go completely dry.

  Rachel blinked as a hard rush of air came out in an exhale she didn’t know she had in her. “Syrup,” she muttered.

  “What?” David asked with a laugh, a hand rubbing hard through his hair and sending water droplets flying.

  Face flaming, Rachel shook her head. “Nothing. Come here, I have a question.”

  He sat beside her and dropped an arm around her, pulling her against him, his attention on her phone. “What’s up?”

  She nestled into him and showed him the screen. “You’re in Columbus next weekend. What if I drove over for the Saturday and Sunday games? And… we told Sawyer about this?”

  David frowned very slightly in thought, then nodded. He looked at her with a smile. “Okay. It’s about time, wouldn’t you say?”

  Rachel lowered her eyes to his chest. “Probably past it, honestly.”

  He pressed two fingers to the underside of her chin and brought her eyes back to his. “Hey.”

  She blinked and swallowed. “What?”

  He stroked her chin as though it were porcelain. “I love you. It’ll be okay.”

  “I love you too,” she whispered, leaning in for a kiss, then lying against him and letting him hold her tight.

  She felt David press a kiss against her hair, and she wrapped her arms around his chest, sighing heavily and closing her eyes.

  He shifted for a moment, something rustling, then poked her gently in the shoulder. “Donut?”

  She nodded once and opened her mouth, snickering in surprise when he stuck the whole thing between her teeth.

  * * *

  Saying he would do something and actually doing the something were two very different matters.

  Skeeter hadn’t pitched the game last night, so they’d had a chance to chat before the game. He asked how Steal had been after the ejection last week, and David asked how beating Axe Man’s team so badly had felt. They’d laughed a little, and that was about it.

  Nothing about Rachel was mentioned. Nothing about Chicago was mentioned.

  They hadn’t gone out after the game, as Skeeter had serious habits surrounding the night before a game. Eating out would come tonight. If Skeeter wanted anything to do with him ever again.

  Despite his assurance to Rachel that everything would be fine, David wasn’t so sure. The more he thought about it, the worse the possibilities became.

  He’d been on pins and needles the entire course of the game, and none of his teammates had been able to pull him out of the funk. David wasn’t sure he’d entirely forgiven them for the debacle that had been the Ice game, but he wasn’t giving anyone the cold shoulder either. He couldn’t afford to let personal things like that get in the way of working as a team and playing the best game of baseball possible.

 

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