Nyx smith, p.1
Batting Fourth: An Opposites Attract Romance (The Boys of Baltimore Book 4), page 1
BATTING FOURTH
LINDA FAUSNET
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Wait! Before you go!
Attention Romance Novel Fans!
My books contain steamy sex, bad words, and human beings of all sorts, include gay people. If you’re not a fan of those things, you may want to stop reading now. If you’re cool with that stuff, come take my hand and join me on this journey…
This book is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locales are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity and are used fictitiously. All other characters, and all incidents and dialogue, are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.
Published by Wannabe Pride 2022
Editing by Linda Hill
Cover Design by Chuck DeKett
FIRST EDITION.
Library of Congress Control Number: 2022923003
Created with Vellum
1
AMANDA
“He’s so beautiful,” I said with a sigh as I gazed up at the television above the bar. The sports channel showed a closeup of my favorite Baltimore Bay Bird, Rusty Power. Most people loved Brady Keaton the best. He was the superstar of the team, and all of baseball, really. Brady was great, but I adored the redheaded first baseman with the piercing blue eyes.
“Rusty’s not bad,” my best friend, Wilder, said after a cursory glance at the television. “But I think Brady’s hotter.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said with a dismissive wave. “You and everybody else. I like Brady and all, but there’s something so sweet about Rusty.”
Wilder laughed. One of the perks of having a best friend was being able to gush over my celebrity crush knowing she wouldn’t judge me.
I wanted to order another drink, but I would wait until Rusty’s turn at bat was over. I didn’t want to miss a moment of his rippling muscles and sexy, determined jaw as he stared down the pitcher.
Not that I only watched baseball for the eye candy. I was a hardcore Baltimore Bay Birds fan, loyal to the end no matter how badly they played. Thankfully, they’d improved a lot over the last few years.
Rusty connected with the ball, and I damn near jumped out of my seat. I had to remind myself not to scream as loud as I would have if I was at the ballpark. Fortunately, this bar was filled with Bay Birds fans, and we all yelled when we saw the ball sail out of the park for a two-run homer.
No wonder they typically had Rusty Power batting fourth, or cleanup as they called it. The hope was that one or more of the first three batters would make it on base, and then my favorite player would drive them home.
“Sweet,” said a man who took a seat on the stool next to me at the bar in time to see Rusty’s triumph. His buddy sat beside him. “Wonder who’s pitching.”
“For us, Carey Allen. For Chicago, Manny Hernandez,” I answered automatically. The guy turned to me and smiled, looking impressed. I felt partly flattered and partly annoyed that he seemed surprised by my knowledge of baseball. Plenty of women were into sports.
“Thanks,” the good-looking guy with dark hair and blue eyes said. “I’m Jake.”
“Amanda,” I said with a smile.
He glanced up at the TV. “I think the Birds got a shot this year. I really do. I mean, maybe not all the way to the World Series just yet.”
“Agreed. Like maybe the playoffs? The Wild Card at the very least?”
“I’d drink to that, but I’m not prepared yet,” Jake said with a sexy grin. The bartender finally noticed him and came over to take his drink order.
“Damn,” Wilder muttered as she watched Matt Jovey ground out to end the inning.
“You a baseball fan too?” Jake asked.
“Yeah. But not near as much as Amanda,” she said, tipping her beer bottle my way.
“You been to any games this year?” He seemed to address the question to both of us.
“Nah,” Wilder said. “Not yet.”
Her phone buzzed with a notification. She started texting somebody, which gave me a chance to talk more with Jake. He seemed like a good guy, and I was cautiously optimistic that he might be interested in me. Though I wasn’t actively on a hunt for a boyfriend, I was open to the opportunity should it arise. Having a guy to talk baseball with was definitely high on my list when it came to ideal boyfriend material.
“I’ve been to a bunch,” I said enthusiastically. “Starting with Opening Day, and then a few others. I have a partial season ticket plan, so I go a few times a month. I’m going this Sunday, actually.”
“Good deal,” Jake said, holding up his beer bottle to clink mine. “I was at Opening Day too. That’s it so far, but I want to get to some more games soon.”
That was the perfect opening for him to ask me out. He didn’t. Instead, he glanced over at Wilder, who was still focused on her phone. I fought the urge to sigh out loud.
Wilder was beautiful. As in, supermodel beautiful. No question about that. With her long blond hair, blue-green eyes, and tall stature, she attracted attention everywhere she went. I wasn’t exactly jealous of her, but being near her did make my plain looks all the more ordinary. I was the polar opposite: five foot nothing with brown hair and brown eyes. But Wilder’s lifelong dream was to become a singer on Broadway, so she needed the good looks more than I did.
Jake’s friend was also staring at her. I tried not to take it personally, but it was tough not to feel invisible when I was out with my best friend. Not only was she far prettier, but she was more outgoing. More talented, more fun, more everything.
As I watched Carey Allen take the mound when they came back from the commercial, I considered saying something about his impressive ERA. Then I thought the better of it. I figured Jake had lost interest in me already.
“This guy here’s been on fire lately,” Jake said as Carey tossed the first pitch of the inning for a strike.
“Yeah, he has. Got an ERA close to 3.00 right now,” I said, fresh hope blooming in my heart. Maybe I still had a chance with the guy.
Jake turned to me, looking even more impressed than before.
“Now if we could just find a closer with those kind of numbers, we’d really be in business,” I added.
“Right?” Jake exclaimed. “Enough with these nail-biters at the end of the game.”
I laughed and nodded. The Bay Birds had had quite a few close calls of late where they’d barely eked out a win, despite their early lead.
Gesturing at my shirt, Jake asked, “You go to the University of Timonium?”
“It’s sweet that you think I’m that young,” I said with a laugh. “No, I went to Notre Dame University. I work at the University of Timonium.”
“Yeah? What do you do there?”
“I work in human resources.”
“Cool,” he said. Though I really liked my job, I wished I had something more exciting to talk about. Wilder worked as a bartender between theater jobs, so her life was far more interesting.
“What do you do?” I asked.
“I’m a professional baseball player,” he said modestly.
“Are you serious?”
Jake chuckled heartily. “No. I’m messing with you. I wish. Played in high school, but it was clear pretty quick I didn’t have what it takes to make it to the minors, let alone the big show. Right now I’m working at an accounting firm.”
“I see.” I gave him a sympathetic smile. His job was boring too, and that made me feel better.
Wilder frowned at her phone as she typed. She wasn’t normally one to ignore me while she played on her phone, so I worried something might be wrong.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
“Oh yeah. Sorry. Don’t mean to be rude. I’m just texting my sister and coordinating who can take my dad to and from his upcoming doctor visits.” She finished up her text message and set the phone down, looking at me apologetically.
“Nothing serious I hope,” Jake said with a look of concern. I was starting to like this guy.
“No, it’s not a big deal,” Wilder responded. “He just had a knee replacement done and has a bunch of follow-ups and physical therapy and all that.”
“That’s not too bad, I guess,” he said. Jake had such warmth in his blue eyes, and it was sweet that he was worried about the welfare of someone he didn’t even know.
Jake turned to look directly at me, gracing me with a smile that set my insides to quivering.
“So, Amanda …” he began.
I drew in a nervous breath as I waited for him to continue.
Please ask me out. Bonus points if you invite me to a Bay Birds game for our first date.
“Do you think it would be okay if I asked your gorgeous friend here on a date?”
I let my breath out slowly, fighting to keep my expression even.
I should have known.
It was not the first time this had happened. And it wasn’t the second time, either. The only difference was the guy in question didn’t normally spend much time talking to me before passing me over for Wilder. Usually, he’d say a few words to me while staring at my sexy blond friend.
Usually, I saw it coming.
Wilder still stared at her phone, but I heard her let out a barely audible sigh. She knew how degrading this kind of thing was for me, and she took no pleasure in being the so-called winner in this situation. To her credit, she never went out with any guy who had insulted me like this while trying to get to her.
“Well, I’m not her mother,” I said sharply. “I don’t decide who she dates.”
Jake blinked, surprised at my reaction. Clearly, I’d dodged a bullet with him anyway. As painful as it was for me to feel like I was bland and ordinary, I would never waste time with any man who made me feel that way. No guy was worth it. I was better off alone.
That being said, I longed for marriage and a family someday. How would that ever happen if every guy I met ignored me because I wasn’t a tall, thin model? Perhaps Jake was a genuinely nice guy. I didn’t know him well enough to be sure. All I knew was he and I had at least some stuff in common, and all he knew about Wilder was that she was hot. He’d made his choice, and I was probably better off without him.
Gazing up at the television, I watched Rusty masterfully turn a tricky double play with the help of shortstop Brady Keaton and second baseman Matt Jovey. My stomach quivered with attraction as Rusty grinned, exchanging a triumphant look with Brady.
My crush on Rusty suddenly seemed even sillier than usual. It was a fantasy, obviously. But after tonight’s events, it seemed especially ludicrous to even imagine a man like Rusty would give me a second glance.
I’d zoned out while I watched the game, so I didn’t get to hear Wilder give Jake the brushoff. The next thing I knew, Jake was gone and Wilder was sitting in his recently vacated seat.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.
“Not your fault.”
“It still sucks.”
“Yeah, it does,” I said, still staring at the baseball game on TV. Turning toward my friend, I added, “This time felt different. Like he was actually interested in me.”
“I know,” Wilder said glumly. “I thought the same thing as I listened to him talking to you. That just makes him an even bigger asshole.”
I chuckled. “True.”
Rusty Power might not pay much attention to me if we ever met in real life, but I doubt he would pull a dick move like Jake did. Then again, he wouldn’t need to. He dated models and famous actresses, from what I’d heard.
“Wanna get out of here?” Wilder asked.
I considered it for a moment, then said, “No. I’m good.”
“Cool.” She smiled and nodded. I could tell she was proud of me for not letting Jake ruin my night. She signaled the bartender, who, of course, came running because it was her.
“Get me another too, please,” I said to her, knowing I’d better grab another drink while she had the bartender’s attention. “Oh good,” I said as I looked at the TV. “The Birds are up to bat again.”
Once I took a sip of my fresh beer, I felt better.
Another fairly attractive guy sat down on the other side of Wilder. He didn’t even try to hide the fact that he was staring at her.
Sighing, I reminded myself not everybody was meant to stand out and be noticed.
The sooner I accepted that, the better off I would be.
2
RUSTY
Some people take a while to get going in the morning, but not me. I practically bounce out of bed as soon as I open my eyes. We were a couple of months into the baseball season, and I was still excited to play ball. I get so antsy during the off-season—I was bored out of my skull during the winter. Now that it was May, the weather was warming up. A great time to play baseball. Not that there was any bad time as far as I was concerned.
I showered quickly and went to my kitchen to get the coffee going. I turned on the television in the living room—it was tuned to ESPN as always. In my open-plan luxury apartment, I could see my big screen TV easily from the kitchen. As the coffee brewed, I wandered over to the vast bank of windows in my corner apartment to take in the view of downtown Baltimore.
Drawing in a deep breath, I wondered once again how the hell I’d gotten so damn lucky. This was my second season with the Baltimore Bay Birds, and I still couldn’t quite believe I was really here. During my rookie season, I’d rented a cheap rowhouse downtown. The life of a Major League ballplayer seemed too good to be true, and for the whole first year it was like I was afraid it would all be taken away from me. It took until my second year before I allowed myself to spend some of the money I’d earned. Didn’t take me long to get used to that. I wondered if I should rein myself in a bit, but it was tough. I had millions of dollars now. Millions. To play a game I loved more than life itself. My life was positively surreal.
I gazed out at the Inner Harbor and the gentle waves of the Chesapeake Bay. The only thing that would have made the view from my high-rise apartment perfect would have been if I could see the stadium from here. Unfortunately, the skyscrapers downtown got in the way.
The coffeemaker beeped, so I headed back into the kitchen and poured myself a cup. After a few sips, I whipped up an egg and cheese omelet and grilled some sausage patties. Breakfast was pretty much the only meal I knew how to make. The rest of the time I got food delivered. Most of it was fresh and reasonably healthy. Of course, I did indulge in junk food from time to time, but I needed to keep in shape to play ball.
My eyes were glued to SportsCenter as I ate breakfast. Watching the highlights from last night’s game made me smile. I loved getting to see the replay of my two-run homer. Sometimes I made the “lowlights” reel if I bobbled a play at first base or something. Rewatching that was far less enjoyable. I always kept up with the sports news because it gave me a chance to see what the other teams were up to. I studied SportsCenter each day as if there would be a test later.
After breakfast, I headed into my baseball room. Not that there was much distinction between that room and the rest of my apartment—I had tons of baseball memorabilia and autographed sports photos all over the joint. But the baseball room was even more overstuffed with that kind of thing, and it was where I spent time working on the day’s plan.
Sitting down at my desk, I looked online for any information I could find on Chicago’s starting pitcher. Doing research like that helped my batting performance tremendously. Since this was only my second year in the majors, a lot of the pitchers I faced were ones I hadn’t dealt with before. After conducting my research, I played around on the Internet, indulging in some of the gossip pages. It was a guilty pleasure for me.
The weird thing was, sometimes I was in the gossip pages. Talk about surreal. Though I had dated a few celebrities, including a famous social media influencer and a cable television actress, I never actively sought out the publicity.
I didn’t mind it either. In fact, I loved it. It wasn’t just the attention, but any article that mentioned me referred to me as Baltimore Bay Birds’ first baseman. My favorite thing in the world was when people stopped me on the street because they recognized me as a professional ballplayer.
