Kissing on third, p.1
Kissing on Third, page 1
part #6 of Belltown Six Pack Series
Table of Contents
Title Page
Belltown Six Pack Series
Kissing on Third
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
More #Belltownsixpack
About Heather B. Moore
Copyright © 2019 by Heather B. Moore
E-book edition
All rights reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form whatsoever without prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief passages embodied in critical reviews and articles. This is a work of fiction. The characters, names, incidents, places, and dialogue are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.
Interior design by Cora Johnson
Edited by Kelsey Down and Lisa Shepherd
Cover design by Rachael Anderson
Cover image credit: Deposit Photos #38601475
Published by Mirror Press, LLC
Dear Reader,
To receive my next book for FREE, sign up for my newsletter here. Enter your email, and you’ll receive a confirmation email with a download link to my next book. Free! Your email will not be shared, and you may unsubscribe at any time. I always appreciate reviews, but there is no obligation.
Thank you!
Heather B. Moore
BELLTOWN SIX PACK SERIES
Hitching the Pitcher
Falling for Centerfield
Charming the Shortstop
Snatching the Catcher
Flirting with First
Kissing on Third
KISSING ON THIRD
His past will never go away. Hers has left deep scars. Together, maybe they can build something new.
Levi Cox carved his baseball game out of the dirt. The hard way. Bouncing between foster homes as a kid, and trying everything he could do to protect his kid brother from bullies, Levi backs down from no one and has a record to prove it. Baseball has given him a purpose and a career. A way to provide for his brother. When Levi meets Finley Gray, he finds things happening to his heart that he never thought possible. She has her own broken past, using boxing as her outlet. Yet the more Levi gets to know Finley, the more he’s convinced they belong together. Breaking through Finley’s tough exterior might be Levi’s hardest challenge ever. But he has a feeling it will be more than worth it.
CHAPTER ONE
“I’m sorry . . . Brandy . . . I’m not available after the game.” Levi Cox inched away from the woman with the huge blue eyes who was looking at him like she was a stray dog and he was her first meal in a week. Her grip on his arm only tightened.
“Brindy,” she said, her voice breathless, screechy, and, well, annoying. “Kind of like Brandy, but with an i, although it sounds like an e.”
The red of her lipstick had smeared on her teeth. Should Levi tell her? Would it be polite or rude?
“Well, you’ve got my number, Levi Cox,” Brandy-Brindy-Brendy continued.
“I sure do.”
She laughed. High. Giggly.
Levi winced. She’d latched onto him as he walked from the parking lot to the stadium, and in a move that would impress any baseball coach, she had grasped his arm and written seven numbers on his skin with a purple Sharpie.
Levi had been too stunned to pull his arm away.
She was a tiny thing, harmless enough, right? But now he wasn’t so sure. Her blue eyes seemed darkly beady now, like a ferret, and her rather long fingernails were digging into his arm. Where were his teammates? He was early, but not that early. Someone from the Minnesota Ice should be here. But no one seemed to be around except for Ferret Lady.
His phone rang. Levi normally sent calls to voicemail unless it was coach. “Sorry, gotta run.” He pretty much tore his arm away from the woman, then strode toward the stadium. She called after him, but he’d already answered his phone like he’d been thrown a lifeline.
“Rabbit,” Levi said. “I owe you.”
“You got that right,” Ryker Stone, a.k.a. Rabbit, said. “Losers always buy dinner.”
“I’m not talking about betting on tonight’s game,” Levi said. “I was being accosted by a rabid female in the parking lot who wrote her phone number on my arm with a purple Sharpie. Your phone call gave me the perfect getaway.”
Rabbit laughed.
“Not funny.”
Rabbit kept laughing. “If you can’t fend off a starry-eyed fan, you’re definitely going to get crushed tonight. The Minnesota Ice are going dowwwwn, baby.”
Levi yanked open the team-only door to the stadium. “You won’t even get on third base, so get ready to give your team a pep talk after you lose.”
Rabbit chuckled. “Don’t you ever watch the press? We’re picked to win, and I couldn’t agree more.”
Levi never watched the press. He didn’t want to be a headcase like some players he knew who obsessively watched film and newscasts. No, Levi didn’t have time for that stuff. If he wasn’t working out, in practice, or at a game, he would go spend time with his little brother. It kept them both out of trouble.
“You still there?” Rabbit asked.
“Yeah, just got to the locker room,” he said. “Gotta go.”
“Wait,” Rabbit said. “The guys want to go out tonight, you know, see the nightlife in Minneapolis.”
Levi paused at his locker. “The guys? As in your Baltimore Blue Jay teammates?”
“Yeah. So? Are you up for it? Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a few Blue Jays.”
Levi scoffed and opened his locker. “I’m not playing party host. I’m flying out early to see Rhett.”
“Cool,” Rabbit said. “How’s he doing?”
“Stressed,” Levi said. “Summer school in college is more intense.”
“True,” Rabbit said. “Tonight’s game should be over by nine. We go hit a restaurant. You’ll be home in your comfy bed by eleven. How about it?”
“I don’t think so,” Levi said. “There’s too many variables.”
“Like what?”
Levi sighed. “You know. It’s better if I stay away from the whole bar scene.”
“It doesn’t have to be a bar.”
“Tell that to the Blue Jays,” Levi said. “Look, man, it will be good to see you, but I’m outta here after the game.”
Rabbit protested again, but Levi cut him off. “Gotta go, man. See you in a few hours.”
Levi hung up, then set his stuff in the locker. He’d come early to work on some cardio and weights. On game days, he was always more limber and played better if he did a workout in the team’s weight room a few hours before. Some might call it overkill, but it paid off for Levi.
It also helped settle his nerves.
He’d been playing third base for the Minnesota Ice pro baseball team for four years now. He and five of his college teammates from Belltown University in Western Massachusetts had all been called up to the major leagues the same year, after winning the NCAA championship for the third year in a row. The media had been crazy, and the teammates had been dubbed the Belltown Six Pack. Six players, six best friends, all called up.
Rabbit played first base for the Baltimore Blue Jays; David McCarthy—Grizz—played catcher for the Pittsburgh Knights; Sawyer Bennett, a.k.a. Skeeter, pitched for the Columbus Black Racers; Axel Diaz—the Axe Man—played shortstop for the Seattle Sharks; and finally, Cole Hunter—Big Dawg—played centerfield for the Los Angeles Sea Rays.
They were Levi’s family. The only family he’d ever had except for his younger half-brother, who was now in college—and Levi was damn proud of the kid. They’d come from nothing. Literally. Mom in jail, both dads gone. It wasn’t until Levi’s sophomore year in high school that he found baseball, or more accurately, baseball found him.
Levi had been at his umpteenth foster home with his younger brother. Rhett was one of those kids who got picked on. Yeah, he was skinny, undersized, but there was no sign on him that said Bully me. The only thing Levi could figure was that Rhett just had a brain and used it. He wasn’t afraid to answer the teacher’s questions, and Rhett always got them right. He could remember anything he read. In short, he was brilliant.
Levi wasn’t. But he could hold his own among any bully, especially when Rhett refused to defend himself. He took whatever people dished out, didn’t fight back. It drove Levi nuts, but the problem was, his brother was four years younger than him, so they were never in the same school together.
Levi had been enrolled in his fourth high school when his foster mom had texted him that Rhett had been shoved inside a locker by some other kids at the middle school.
Levi saw the text when he was heading back from the track during PE. When he got to the high school locker rooms, his anger exploded at thinking of his little brother stuck inside a l
When he finished, he found that he had an audience. The high school baseball coach.
“Well, son,” Coach Reed had said. “If you can swing that hard, might as well try it on a baseball.”
The memory of those days was both dark and painful, yet Coach Reed had become the one burning light in Levi’s life. And Levi credited baseball as the reason he didn’t end up living the rest of his teenage years on the streets or in juvie. And the reason he could now fully pay for his brother’s living expenses and schooling.
Levi put in his earbuds, cranked up the music, and walked into the team training room. He’d run a couple of miles on the treadmill, then hit the free weights. His normal routine took about an hour and a half. He’d finish off with a series of stretches before hitting the batting cage.
Today was no different. When he reached the cool-down phase, he took out his ear buds and wiped off his face with a towel. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone step into the training room.
“Thought I’d find you here.”
Levi spun. Ryker Stone leaned against the wall, his arms folded, his white-blond hair a messy mop on his head, his blue eyes intent on Levi.
“Rabbit! Decided to put in some real man hours?”
Rabbit laughed. “You know I could outrun you any day.”
Levi grinned and walked toward Rabbit. They gripped hands. None of the Six Pack tried to hug Levi, and he was good with that. Besides, he was soaked in sweat right now, so he was sure Rabbit appreciated it as well.
“I’m ready to go, if you are,” Levi said. “First one across the field and back gets a hundred bucks.”
Rabbit lifted his brows. “That’s pocket change to you, Steal. Word is that you’ve got a nest egg saved since you refuse to upgrade your 1989 Bronco and have yet to buy a couch.”
“Who told you about my non-couch?”
“Grizz—”
“You can’t believe everything Grizz says,” Levi cut in. “But I’ll raise you two hundred dollars if that makes you feel better.”
“Now you’re talking,” Rabbit said. “Either that or you’re wrongfully confident.”
Levi tugged off his shirt and tossed it on a bench. “Let’s go now.”
So the two men strode to the empty baseball field.
“Thought you said Minnesota was cold,” Rabbit said.
“It’s July,” Levi said. “Come back in January.”
Rabbit smirked, then stopped near the home plate. “Ready?”
“Yep.”
They ran, sprinting side by side until they reached the top of centerfield. Rabbit hit the backboard two seconds before Levi. But Levi wasn’t going to let up, and as he turned to head back to home plate, he lengthened his stride and caught up. They crossed the baseline at the same time. Without a witness, it was impossible to say who’d been a fraction of an inch in front.
“Tied!” Rabbit whooped, then bent over, placing his hands on his knees as he gulped in air.
Levi walked in small circles, cooling down his body. “Let’s go again.”
Rabbit laughed. “You’re nuts.”
The two men took off again. But the second race ended in another tie.
“Okay, okay,” Rabbit said, panting. “I think we’re going to have to come up with another bet that can’t possibly end in a tie. Whoever steals the most bases tonight chooses the location for dinner. Whoever steals the fewest pays the tab.”
Levi scrubbed a hand through his hair and groaned. “I’m so going to regret this.”
Rabbit only grinned. “Well, your nickname is Steal for a reason. Time to show the Blue Jays your stuff.”
CHAPTER TWO
“Put ’em in Finley’s section.”
“What the heck?” Finley whirled to face her boss. Mark’s flyaway eyebrows were raised, as if he was waiting for her to argue.
But Finley couldn’t argue, not if she wanted to keep her job. She was supposed to be off in twenty minutes. Now it would be more like forty if she had to wait on a table of six people. She was depending on the extra time to get ready for the fight tonight. She felt good, strong, ready, but she needed to spend time visualizing the boxing match against Star. Finley had been training diligently since their last fight that she’d lost. With the extra conditioning, she knew she had a chance. Plus, the pot was $500. Money she could sorely use.
She eyed the group of guys heading over to her section. Jess, the hostess of the Green Falcon Irish Pub, scooted a couple of the tables together so the six men could sit together. Two of the men helped, grinning at Jess and her rather large display of bosom. Jess only giggled.
Great.
Jess used to work at Hooters and still dressed like it.
The six guys were baseball players by the looks of their matching Blue Jays ball caps. All except one, who wasn’t wearing a hat. His dirty-blond hair was kind of messy, and it looked like he hadn’t shaved for a couple of days. Finley had a feeling that was his usual look, since he didn’t seem to be the type of guy to put a lot of primping into his appearance. He wore a leather jacket that had seen better days, along with worn jeans—ones that were truly worn and not purchased that way.
Finley averted her gaze. Checking out baseball guys wouldn’t take her anyplace good tonight. She had to keep her mind focused, not thinking about how, according to her boss Mark, she would get better tips if she turned on the charm. The problem was, turning on the charm got her a little too much attention. Phone numbers slipped to her, casual touches as she refilled drinks, pickup lines that could make a stripper blush.
No. The single life was much better. She’d never been in better shape physically, and she’d never been happier emotionally. Dating random guys each week had been fun in her early twenties, but she’d grown tired of it lately, and she had decided to take a break from it all. She’d even started wearing a fake wedding ring to work, until Mark told her to take it off. “The guys want to flirt with a cute single waitress, Fin.”
So Finley had tossed it.
“What are you waiting for?” Mark asked, scratching at his sideburns. He was probably the only man she knew who seemed to think that sideburns were somehow attractive. “You know baseball players always tip well. You’ve just gotta give them what they want.”
Finley scowled at Mark, keeping all her retorts to herself. Two hours, and she’d be in the boxing ring. She’d punch Star and pretend it was Mark’s face. Not that Mark was exactly a bad guy, but it would feel good all the same.
Finley put on a pleasantly bland expression, loaded up her tray with six glasses of ice water, and headed over to the players.
“Welcome to the Green Falcon Pub,” she cut into their bantering, speaking over the thumping music. They must have won, because they all seemed to be in a celebratory mood. Well, except for the leather-jacket guy. He wasn’t participating in the conversation, but stayed focused on his phone.
She proceeded to set down the water glasses. “What can I get you gentlemen to drink?”
“What do you recommend?” one of the guys asked.
She glanced over at him. His white-blond hair showed beneath his cap, and his eyes were a startling blue. His smile was friendly and easy, and she liked that. Handsome guy, but not too distracting.
“I mean, what’s the Green Falcon famous for?” he continued. “We’re from Baltimore, so we’re looking for something memorable.”
“Baltimore, huh?” she said, resting a hand on her hip. “Hmm. In that case I can recommend a couple of things.” She listed the specialty beers with a smile, recommending the ones that were her favorite. Okay, so maybe she was being a little bit flirty. She never complained about getting good tips.
The guys were jovial, friendly, and not annoying after all. When it came time to ask the leather-jacket guy his drink order, the blond guy elbowed him.
“What do you want, Steal? The lady’s waiting.”
Steal? What kind of name was that?
Leather-Jacket Guy, a.k.a. Steal, raised his gaze. Finley suddenly regretted agreeing to serve this group. Steal’s eyes were a dark, murky color. Black, gray? Green? In the dim lighting of the pub, it was hard to tell exactly. And he was gazing at her like he wanted to be anyplace but in this pub. Finley tried not to take it personally, because she didn’t know this guy at all, so how in the world could he be mad about her asking him what he wanted to drink?
