I confess, I’m crazy-jealous of her Snow Cones fan gear.
We’re sitting in the bleachers in a mix of red Snow Cones supporters and royal-blue Hot Shot fans, and Hutch has just been announced as the special guest pitcher for the first game of the season.
“We want a pitcher, not a belly itcher!” Carmen yells, cupping her hands around her mouth, and Hana snorts a laugh from my other side.
My sister leans into my side and whispers, “I don’t know who she is, but she’s invited to every party from now on.”
Hutch cuts us an annoyed glance that registers as way too sexy for a children’s softball game, and I hear a few women around me sighing with delight… or lust. He’s delicious in dark jeans that hug his ass and an honorary Snow Cones jersey.
From her spot beside the pitcher’s mound, Pepper waves at us so fiercely, I’m afraid her little arm will fly off.
“Go, Pep!” Hana yells, with a volume that surprises me.
I’ve never heard my sister talk above a Marilyn-Monroe pout, but in Hamiltown, it seems she’s a different person. It makes me question ever returning to the city–for so many reasons besides just solving problems.
I notice her dark watchdog at the end of the bleachers glancing over at us every few minutes. Scar has become her self-appointed guardian since we got here, but my sister doesn’t seem to find it strange or even notice.
She lifts her camera to her eye and snaps shots of Pepper, Hutch, the outfield players. “I’m going to go down. Coach Perkins said I could stand on the sidelines if I gave them copies of the prints.”
“Do it.”
I watch her climb down the bleachers and make her way to the chain-link fence. The Hot Shots coach motions for her to enter the field, and sure enough, Scar walks over and leans his forearms on the fence to watch.
“I have never seen that man show interest in anyone in this town.” Carmen leans into my ear, causing me to jump. “He is some kind of tortured soul, but no one, not anyone, has ever gotten close to him. Besides Hutch, of course.”
Chewing my lip, I study the tall man with the tattoos covering his scars. “Is he dangerous?”
“I imagine he is.” Carmen’s eyebrows rise. “Just look at all that ink. He’s like Bill fucking Skarsgård.”
“Who is that?”
“He’s the other Skarsgård, younger brother to Alexander from True Blood and Big Little Lies?” I nod, and she continues. “You’d think he’d be drop-dead gorgeous with a hot brother like Vampire Eric, and occasionally he is, but mostly he’s creepy as fuck.”
“I don’t think I know what he looks like.”
“Creepy clown in the new version of Stephen King’s It.”
“Oh, god!” I jump back as realization hits me. “I saw that once and I hope I never see it again. That’s Alexander Skarsgård’s brother?”
“Just goes to show, you never know with siblings. Something went wrong with that one.”
I shift in my seat, suddenly uncomfortable. “Yes.”
I clear the knot out of my throat when I see Hutch climbing the bleachers, headed our way. As predicted, we’d watched him toss a very slow, underhanded pitch to a little Hot Shot, who nailed it over right field, sending the little players into chaos.
Pride swells in my chest as I watch him shake hands and speak to almost everyone before sitting beside me and threading our fingers. I kind of love how he holds my hand like we’re teenagers.
“Really appreciated the show of support, Carmen.” He leans forward to glower at her.
“Nice pitch, traitor. They would’ve got a homer if it weren’t for your niece.” Carmen claps back, and I pinch my nose to keep from laughing.
Green eyes cut up to me, and my stomach tightens deliciously. “Whose side are you on?”
“Pepper’s!” I answer fast, and his frown melts into a grin.
Everything about this is so foreign and so fun. We watch Pepper working her little tail off stopping every short hit and getting three girls out in one catch, ending the inning.
“She’s really good.” I state the obvious as Hutch buys three hotdogs for Carmen, him, and me. “I haven’t seen that much hustle outside Yankee stadium.”
Hutch cuts his eyes at me, taking a bite that consumes half his hot dog. “Have you seen any games outside Yankee stadium?”
Taking a more reasonable bite of my dog, I can’t argue. “You got me, but she’s really good. Does she get that from you?”
“I played some baseball in my day.”
“Your day!” I laugh, bumping his shoulder with mine. “You’re not even thirty.”
He leans in and plants a warm kiss on my lips, shooting fire through my belly, through my groin, all the way to my toes. He holds it a beat, no tongue but pulling my bottom lip with his. It’s the best kiss I’ve ever had.
Leaning back, he meets my eyes. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist. You’ve been too cute all day today.”
“Don't apologize.” My voice is quiet. “I really liked that. I’d like more.”
“I’ve got plans for more.”
I’m about to burst into flames when Carmen lets out a groaning-yell beside me. “Oh my god! You two are so damn cute, I can’t eat my hot dog. It tastes like it’s got sugar on it.”
Straightening in my seat, I fight a laugh as I scoot away from him. “We should watch the game.” He gives me a heated eyebrow arch, and I clear my throat, turning to face the field and clapping my hands. “Go, Pepper! Kick their butts!”
It’s not the greatest softball cheer, but it earns me an enthusiastic arm-wave from the hardest-working shortstop in the Little League. Hana is right there on the sidelines snapping photos.
The Snow Cones pull a 7-2 win over the Hot Shots, and Hutch treats the team to cupcakes at Shirley’s bakery in town. It’s a ten-minute walk from the field, and the girls bounce and squeal, reliving their victory the whole way.
“They won’t sleep tonight,” I note, holding Hutch’s arm. “They should have these games on Fridays.”
“Can’t do it. High school football.” He leans closer to my ear. “That was more my game than baseball.”
Twisting my lips, I picture him in white football pants. “I’d have liked to see that.”
“We’ll have to find you a cheerleader uniform.”
“We didn’t have cheerleaders at Bishop.”
“Still, I’d like to see you in one of those little skirts.”
The hunger in his tone helps me ignore him being the reason I was sent to that convent school. It sends my mind flying down a rabbit hole of short skirts and football pants and sexy quickies behind the bleachers.
Twelve happy little girls later, Pepper is tucked in her bed at Hutch’s house, and he’s driving me back to my family estate. “Pony” by Genuine plays softly on the radio of his big, black truck, and I lick my bottom lip, threading my fingers with his on the console.
Without a warning, he takes a turn off the highway onto a narrow road leading into the pine trees.
“Where are we going?” I look over at his profile illuminated by the dashboard light.
“A part of town you’d only know about if you grew up here.”