Page 37 of Wild Hit (Wild Baseball Romance #3)

AUDREY

I like that the armrests at this stadium can be tucked away. Thanks to this, Marty has her head on Consuelo’s lap, and her legs on mine as she takes a nap. It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement too, because Marty isn’t bothered about me propping up my popcorn tub on her calves.

“You guys look so at ease with each other,” Hope points out—with her lips—at the scene next to her.

She catches me in the middle of lifting a handful of popcorn toward my gullet. I pause to say, “I have terrible news for you two. Marty’s my best friend now. Not sorry.” Then I stuff my face with popcorn. The caramel kind, because I’m a monster.

Hope releases an exaggerated gasp. Rose leans forward for visibility and says, “How dare you betray us this way.” Even someone who doesn’t know us would see our silly grins and know we’re having a blast.

I lean a bit toward them, hoping that the stadium noise is enough to drown my voice. “Actually, she reminds me a lot of me when I was a kid. But she doesn’t have a cool older brother to amuse her, you know?”

“Not all older brothers are cool, trust me.” Hope shakes her head, but then she pats my shoulder. “But I get it, you’re trying to fulfill the role.”

“A little bit, I guess,” I admit as I chew, with an elegance previously unseen in these here WAG stands.

“Do you miss him?” Hope asks. The problem is that Miguel’s walk up song is starting to play, but his daughter is passed out, drooling on her nanny’s lap.

“Who?” I shout back.

It’s hard to understand when everyone around is yelling like they’re seeing Babe Ruth in the flesh, but also I get it. Every time Miguel Machado steps up to the plate, there’s a collective understanding that magic’s about to happen.

And if you’re in the opposing team, it jiggles your bones in fear. It’s fun. My brother would’ve loved to watch him play.

That’s when it clicks who Hope was referring to. I tear my eyes away from Miguel performing his jinx ritual. “I do,” I say at last. “Every single day. But it’s been so long that now I just miss him in the back of my mind. Is that bad?”

Instead of cringing, Hope bobs her head. “No, I get it. I feel similar about my mom, and I didn’t even get to meet her.”

“Ugh.” Rose leans forward again. “I can only hear bits of your conversation but it’s so freaking?—”

Whatever descriptor she was gonna use completely fizzles in the air as basically the whole stadium jumps to their feet.

The most impressive part is how they still had even more gas in the tank to produce more noise.

Marty jerks awake and honestly, I’m glad because I was gonna worry.

Consuelo tosses me a wink, like she finds the whole thing amusing.

Marty swipes at her chin as she shifts to sit up, glancing around with one eye more open than the other. I can’t hear her but I know her mouth just formed the word what ?

Your dad , I voice back, not even sure if I tried to use my voice box at all.

She makes a face and goes back to laying down. I can’t help but howling at this kid. I have a feeling that even if she knew about all the other kids of all ages that line up to meet her dad, she’d still be bored about the whole thing.

And that sets off an unexpected eureka in my brain.

They have such a good relationship. Marty’s not compelled by fear of her dad to fawn over him.

He doesn’t demand anything of her other than doing her homework and being a good kid.

Everything he does is in one way or another for his daughter, from ice cream to moving across the country so she stops getting bullied, including something wild like marrying a virtual stranger for her sake.

Marty’s not like me. She’s a blessed child, with a dad who deserves awards outside of baseball.

I notice that I’m smiling from ear to ear only when I take the next handful of popcorn to my mouth.

People start sitting down at last. Even when we’re so far, Miguel is so larger than life that he takes all the focus as he rounds the bases. His hand is raised, pointing upward. So that was a home run, then.

From two seats away, Rose asks, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“I am.” Hope shrinks a little. “But I’m worried that even thinking it is gonna jinx us.”

I need no explanations. I’m thinking the exact same. How incredible is it that someone like Miguel Machado came into our lives, into our team? It makes anyone start to dream big.

It makes even a girl like me start to dream about things she had forbidden from her life. Things like dancing in the rain and being held by strong arms that won’t ever let you fall.

In fact, I bet Miguel would never smash cake in his bride’s face.

Damn, whoever he marries for real is going to be such a lucky woman. He also kisses better than he bats, and that’s saying something.

I sigh.

“Speaking of Miguel,” Rose says, and I jump in my skin. Did I have that whole monologue aloud? “What’s the next step in your marriage?”

Of course, this is the moment when the women sitting at the row below us decide to pay attention to our conversation.

“Oh, are you planning on having a baby with Miguel?” this weird woman called Amber says, her eyes shining in something that isn’t happiness.

More like she thinks she just got the century’s juiciest piece of gossip.

This is also when Marty decides to jerk to attention. “You are?” And unlike the weirdo sitting in front of me, Marty’s eyes are full of hope.

Welp.

“Chill, Amber,” Rose says in a direct tone. “We’ll know exactly who spread rumors about this if they start going around, you know?”

The woman’s smile dims and funny enough, her eyes stay the exact way they were before. Sharp but absolutely flat. Like a robot lives behind them.

She reminds me of the rich daughters who used to bully me in school. One time, it got so bad that when Adam found out, he burst into my classroom in the middle of an exam to put them in their place. He got suspended and the bullying didn’t stop, but it did get less loud.

People like this… they just can’t stand being shown up. Also like the Henry Voses of the world.

I lean forward. “So, Amber. What are your next plans with Mike? And is one of them exiting my personal bubble?”

“Nice,” Hope whispers and from the corner of my eye I see her offer me her fist. I bump it, and then way less discreet, Rose reaches out to do the same.

Amber’s thin facade of friendliness vanishes. “Ugh, just who do you all think you are? I was just trying to make polite conversation, since you’re all new WAGs and have no friends.”

“We have friends,” Rose chirps immediately.

“Yeah.” I motion at our row, from Consuelo to Rose. “Plural.”

“Guys.” Hope motions at Rose and I with her hands. “We don’t owe any explanations.”

“Damn right,” Consuelo says all of a sudden. We all look at each other and burst out laughing.

We’re so unserious that it bores the head honcho of the WAGs, and we all—except for Marty—return to watch the last of the game.

The team our boys are in is winning by a mile, so there’s not gonna be a home run derby at the end.

Probably a good thing, since Marty legit seems to be in need of a bed.

I stretch to look at the field and spot her dad not too far from us.

The number three emblazoned on his back is turned toward us.

Well below it are the most perfectly rounded beef cakes anyone’s ever grown.

I rest back against my seat. Bad Audrey. That’s not what you should be paying attention to.

But then the game ends and everyone starts getting up, and the beef cakes are wholly inaccessible to view now.

I try not to think about it too much as we slowly make our way back to the family lounge, but it’s hard to erase the memory of Miguel and I making out in a car like teens after prom with a strict curfew.

What’s next in our marriage?

Sheesh, I don’t know, but it sure isn’t going to be another make out session that fogs up the car windows—although that was partially because of the storm. And the fact that that’s a big bummer worries me. It’s not like this whole arrangement is forever.

“Martina!” the star of The Show exclaims upon sighting his daughter, even elongating the last letter. And in his hands is the glass bat that is awarded to the MVP of the All-Star game. I shouldn’t be surprised, yet I am.

Rather, it’s more like he keeps surprising me every time.

Marty’s nowhere near as impressed. “Dad, we don’t have enough room in the house for another glass bat.”

My laughter transforms into a snort. It distracts the poor guy and when his attention sets on me, his smile widens even more.

Calm down, heart. No tripping on yourself .

It’s hard not to, though, when the man looks like that and he has a mouth that knows how to tease, smile, defend, and make one’s prudence fog up a car’s window.

“There you all are,” an unexpected voice cuts into my thoughts. I wipe every emotion off my system and turn to my dad. He’s motioning at some woman with a gigantic professional camera. “Let’s take a picture with the whole family.”

“Ugh,” I mutter under my breath. But I guess this is the price of freedom. We did agree that I was coming out of the figurative closet.

And then the first one to move is Miguel. He slings the bat over his shoulder like it’s a normal wooden one, and marches over to my Robber Baron father. He even wraps my dad in a one armed hug that ends with his big hand squeezing my dad’s shoulder.

What’s that all about?

“Go,” Rose whispers in my ear. “The quicker you’re done, the less pain you’ll suffer.”

True. I drag my feet, Marty-style, and then I find said little grump tagging along and dragging her nanny by the hand. My dad’s expression screams that this wasn’t what he had in mind, but even he knows better than to make a scene in public.

That makes me feel way better and I sidle up to my so called husband. Before the camera starts going off, though, he swings the bat and offers it to me.

“What?” my last neuron asks.

“It’s for you, my beloved wife.” Then he follows in the Consuelo books with a wink. The difference is that, mischievous as the gesture is, it also lands in my belly with an explosion of warmth.

With his free hand, he brings me against his hard side. He’s still hot and sweaty from the game, yet somehow the guy managers to still smell spectacular.

Marty and Consuelo get close, and as the photographer starts snapping pictures, something moves across my vision that catches my attention. It’s none other than Amber, the mean girl WAG, and she’s staring jaw dropped at us taking a picture with Charlie Cox, the untouchable team owner.

Guess what? She won’t even have the chance to gossip, because this is gonna be all over the news tomorrow. Let the social media games begin.