I can’t even . . .
How am I supposed to date this guy—easily, I know—but seriously, he’s so over the top.
“You’re out of your mind.”
“Am I?” he asks, pulling out my chair for me and helping me take a seat. “Or am I scarily accurate?”
“Insane.”
“Nah.” He shakes his head. “I’m one hundred percent accurate.”
Maybe just a little . . . especially about the greedy part.
Chapter Ninety
JASON
Jason: Can’t stop thinking about the way you squirted all over my face this morning.
Dottie: One, I did not squirt all over your face. Jesus Christ, Jason. Two, I didn’t squirt. I just came. . . hard.
Jason: Babe, that was a straight-up squirt. You scored air on it, at least a few inches.
Dottie: Why do you insist upon making my face turn bright red at work?
Jason: Because it’s fun for me. Send me a picture and while you’re at it, send a picture of your naked tits too. Mommy misses her daddy’s boobies.
Dottie: Please, for the love of God, pause and read that last sentence. YOU ARE DERANGED. This is over between us. I can’t possibly see someone who says shit like that.
Jason: Too far?
Dottie: You think? We’re on a timeout. Do you hear me? A timeout.
Jason: I’d prefer a spanking as punishment. You know, like the spanking I gave you last night? Fuck, babe. You screamed so loud when you came, I have partial ear damage.
Dottie: Bye, Jason.
Jason: Wait, don’t you want to talk about the scream that ended all screams?
Jason: Hello?
Jason: Dottie?
Jason: . . . Daddy?
Dottie: I hate you.
Jason: There’s my girl. Have a good rest of your day. See you tonight. Xoxoxxxxx *My penis and your vagina 4ever*
I stuff my phone away in my pocket, satisfied with my midday conversation with my girl and tap my foot on the turf floor. Where the hell is he?
I glance at my watch; two minutes past the time we were supposed to meet. That’s unlike him. I stand from the bench, walk out of the private batting cages and spot Walker, kneeling on the ground and talking to a kid. I watch carefully the way he interacts with the young boy. Giving him pointers, speaking softly. It’s unlike any side I’ve seen of Walker, but then again, most of the time, the media only shows his moments of outbursts and rage because when there’s drama, media outlets tend to show that.
After a few more minutes, Walker stands, ruffles the kid’s head, gives the father a quick handshake, and then heads in my direction. I was right. He does have exactly what I thought he has. Heart. Kindness. When he reaches me, I say, “Looks like you do have a heart in that barrel of a chest.”
Walker pushes past me and into the cages, and I follow him. “If we’re going to do this, don’t say stupid shit.”
“I don’t ever say stupid—” He gives me a look. “Fine, I might say stupid shit on occasion, but I can’t help it, it’s in my nature. Just like it’s in your nature to be a big grumpus.”
“Grumpus equals stupid shit.”
“What? No way. That can be a term of endearment.”
“Listen.” He holds his hand out to stop me. His brows narrow and his eyes sharpen. Man, this guy is intimidating. I’m a big dude, but he might be able to plow through my intestines with one fist to the gut. “We’re here to talk about the event and hit some balls, not to become friends.”
“Whoa, hey now, let’s not get hasty,” I say, wiping my hands from his statement. “Why don’t we take it slow and see where things go? You never know, we might become the best of friends.”
“We won’t.”
“We might.”
“No.”
“Never say never.”
“Never.”
Fuck, he’s infuriating.
“Let’s just say we agree to disagree at the moment and leave the friendship card on the table where it’s easy to reach in case we want to flash it at each other.”
He drags his hand down his face.
“You hitting first, or am I?”
“You, because it seems like you need to get some tension out of your shoulders.”
We set up the tee, and I grab a bucket of balls while Walker warms up his back with a bat in hand. He shifts side to side, bat behind his neck.
“Is this weird? To practice together? We’re opposing catchers.”
Walker shrugs and takes a few practice swings. “It’s whatever we make it.” He steps up to the tee and whacks the ball I placed, sending it all the way to the far net.
Milly hooked us up with a private cage in the Division One Athletics facilities she owns with her brothers, since it felt weird taking the opponent to either one of our team facilities. Not to mention, I’ve never worked out in my new team facilities, so to do it with a Bobbie doesn’t feel right.
“I spoke with my sister and we’re ready to announce the celebrity game in a week or so, just waiting on a few confirmations. Knox, Carson, and you are jumping on board from the Bobbies. I have a few guys from the Rebels, and then we have Jessica Gomez and Maria Mendez from the former Olympic team who will school us as well.”
He swings, his bat a powerful weapon in his hands as he pushes through the ball. From the tension in his grip, I can tell this man has a lot of pent-up anger inside and with every swing, it seems to loosen a fraction.
“What about celebrities for entertainment?”
“Yup, we have Harrison Done, Brandon Woelfel, Yakim Trent, and a few others.”
“Harrison Done, huh?” Walker asks. “Didn’t know the fucker cared about anything other than his face on the screen.”
“This will be televised. He’s from Chicago, so his face will be on the screen.”
Walker barely smiles, but I see it, the humor in his features. “Makes sense then.”
“We’re setting up VIP tickets. Should I set any aside for your family?”
He shakes his head. “No.”
“No?” I place a ball on the tee and his swing nearly whips my hand off before I can pull away. “But this is to help honor your sister, my brother. Can they not make it?”
“We don’t talk,” he answers curtly, tapping the ground for another ball. “No need to send an invite.”
“Oh, sorry, man. I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s fine.” He taps the tee with his bat. “Load me up.”
Feeling bad I made him uncomfortable, I continue placing balls on the tee, watching as he takes his aggression out on each and every unsuspecting ball.
We spend the next hour going back and forth between hitting and loading. We do a soft toss, but nothing too extreme and the whole time, we barely talk. A few words here and there about the event and how it should help the surrounding schools with inclusion in sports, and hopefully as time goes on, we can grow nationwide. Before we left, Walker pledged to gather a few more players from around the league. He assured me he’s all in when it comes to the foundation, but doesn’t want his name on anything other than appearances. When I asked him why, he said because it wasn’t necessary to be recognized. He just wants to do good.