“She’s insane when it comes to baseball, especially my baseball games. She said she had to go home early because she was tired, but that was a lie. I know exactly what she’s doing.”
“And what’s that?” I can’t imagine Mama G—yes, I get to call her that now—doing anything out of the ordinary. She’s a little outspoken, which I love, and she’s a really good time, so I envision that kind of personality carrying over to the game. Unless she turns into someone completely different.
“Prepping. She is her own personal caravan at games. I’m talking flags, foam fingers, snacks for the crowd and the team. She has multiple outfits she tries on the night before, giving her time to decide what she wants to wear to the game, and I’m not talking fancy getups. She bedazzles her own baseball wear. She was once asked to take off her Brentwood denim vest because the sparkles were distracting the players, reflecting off the lights.”
“You’re lying.”
“I wish I was. She’s the real deal, babe.” Mama G is the real deal, and it’s easy to see where Knox gets his fun, lighthearted personality from. Seeing the two of them interact together makes my heart happy.
“If that’s the case, I hope she has a foam finger for me, because I’m excited to cheer you on.”
“Yeah?” He presses a light kiss to my forehead, his lips lingering. “I’m excited to show you my skills.”
“You think you can impress me?”
“Oh, I know it, babe. You’ve never seen anyone like me out on the field. I wear tight pants, so it’s not just my sheer talent on display. I’m a total smoke-show too.”
I chuckle. “And so modest.”
“I’m just preparing you. You might get really turned on. I don’t want you having an orgasm in the stands tomorrow, especially next to my mom. She saw your boobs, but seeing your O face, that’s crossing a line.”
“I’ll try to contain myself,” I deadpan.
Changing the subject, he asks, “What do you plan on wearing tomorrow?”
“Uh . . . clothes.”
“You better be wearing clothes, but are you planning on wearing any Brentwood stuff?”
“The only thing I have is a simple T-shirt with the college logo. I don’t think that will be warm enough. You said it’s chilly in the stadium?”
“During the winter, yeah. The school doesn’t want to pay to heat the whole thing for exhibition games. Here’s an idea, why don’t you wear one of my sweatshirts.”
“The things I hate?”
“Yeah, it would be hot.”
“It would be huge on me. You wear an extra-large, Knox.”
He twirls my hair around his finger. “Do one of those twisty things off to the side that girls do all the time.”
“With a bulky sweatshirt?”
He sighs against my head, wisps of hair floating from the exhale. “Please.”
It’s one word that breaks every single wall erected. The tone of his voice, the way he asks, I can’t possibly deny this man.
Sitting up, hand on his chest, I stare at him. His eyes search mine for a few short breaths before I say, “I would be honored to wear your sweatshirt.”
“Really?” His eyes light up with hope. My man really is easy to please.
“Really. You’re my best friend, after all.”
The corner of his mouth tilts up. “I like the sound of that.”
“And my man,” I add before closing the space between us and pressing my lips against his.
He hums against my mouth and flips me to my back. “I like the sound of that even better.”
Holy.
Hell.
Knox was not kidding when he said Mama G was her own caravan. I’m sitting on a Brentwood University portable cushion wearing a bedazzled baseball hat with a Brentwood baseball blanket over my lap while eating a B-shaped peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
I can’t go into her outfit with all the razzamatazz happening, nor can I describe the excitement this woman is brimming with. It’s as if she’s never had a Christmas before and today is her first one. That doesn’t do it justice.
She’s beaming.
“Look at our boy out there.” She loops her arm through mine, holding me close. “So tall, so handsome.”
And those pants.
Yowza, Knox wasn’t kidding. He is a total smoke-show out there.
Tight white pants, perfectly tailored shirt that molds to his broad frame, a baseball cap that shadows his eyes, and a black sweatband on the same hand he holds his glove. It’s hot.
Really hot.
So hot that I’m thinking about all kinds of naughty things I shouldn’t be thinking about while sitting next to his mom.
And I’m not the only girl who notices just how sexy Knox is in his uniform. In the student section of the stadium, there are multiple signs and desperate women vying for his attention.
Knox, I want your baby.
Come home with me, Knox.
Party, my house, you and me, Knox.
It’s shameful, embarrassing, and frankly, pathetic. I could never imagine being one of those girls, flaunting themselves for a mere look. Well guess what, desperadoes, the only thing Knox is paying attention to is the game on the field.
And that’s the honest truth; his concentration is impeccable as the first inning is underway. He blocks out the rest of the stadium and focuses on the game, constantly moving around at shortstop, calling out the outs, delivering signs to his outfielders. He’s commanding, and it’s another reason why I can’t wait to get him back to the loft and see what other kinds of situations he can command.
“Don’t worry about those girls,” Mama G says. She must have caught my gaze. “They’re at every game, throwing themselves at the players, but Knox never gives them a second look. I raised him well enough to decipher between quality”—she eyes me up and down—“and trash.” She glances at the student section.
“Thank you, Mama G. I appreciate that.”
She gives me a side hug and says, “I adore you. You’re the first girlfriend he’s ever had, did he tell you that?”
I nod, as the crack of the bat sounds off. A ball is hit up the middle and before it gets past the infield, Knox makes a diving play, springs to his feet, and throws the guy out at first. The play lasts no longer than a few seconds, he’s so fast. Both Mama G and I clap vigorously, cheering for our boy.
He stands and holds up two fingers to his teammates as they pass the ball around the infield and finally throw it back to the pitcher. I watch Knox carefully, the way he carries himself on the field with an abundance of confidence, almost as if he’s daring batters to try to get the ball past him.
I’ve never been a huge baseball fan, but I think that play and the way Knox’s butt looks in those pants, just made me a fan for life.
“That was amazing,” I say, still astounded. “He’s so quick.”
Mama G holds a hand to her chest. “He just keeps getting better and better, it’s really impressive to watch. Being under Coach Disik’s training has vastly improved his skills from when he was in high school. It’s been hard, having him so far away, but coming to Brentwood was worth every mile between us.”