Page 52 of Wild Hit (Wild Baseball Romance #3)

MIGUEL

“ M y only question is…” Logan sighs like a long suffering father herding a gaggle of his kids through one of the amusement parks. “Why did they have to be these socks?”

He unfurls a pair of white knee-height socks that would blend with our uniform pants, if it wasn’t for the tiny alligator legs peeking at the top from under our knees.

“Listen, suckers. Every time I’ve given you prank socks throughout the season, y’all have gone on to play like some damn machines.

” Lucky motions at Cade and Logan. “Now we need the whole team to do the same.” He pauses for a shrug.

“And also, marketing thinks these will sell like cakes and I’ll get royalties, so… ”

That causes a bunch of people in the clubhouse to laugh. The cheek of this guy is unmatched, and that reminds me of something.

I’m sitting by my locker, also working up the matching socks before I finish getting dressed. “A lot of people told me that I should expect you to sock prank me as a welcome to the team, and it never happened. What the hell, man? Do you have some beef against me?”

The Boricua turns around with an innocent look on his face. “No, I know you, and you’d have just laughed along with me, which isn’t as impactful. I have socks for your wife, though.”

Cade blows a raspberry. “Good luck getting sugar to wear those without her ripping your head off.”

“Our victory depends on it,” Lucky explains in absolute seriousness. You wouldn’t think we’re on game four against the Denver Riders, and on the verge of winning the whole thing.

Honestly, the Eagles were a bigger challenge and took us all the way to a difficult game seven. But the Riders are getting off their horses. They have a grand total of no wins, and this might all be over tonight.

No one who lives and breathes baseball could imagine this before the season started.

The Orlando Wild wasn’t dead last in the previous one, but it was just a few places removed.

And when Ben Williams, their best pitcher, ditched the team for Colorado, everyone wrote the Wild off.

Which is pretty absurd when Logan Kim stayed on the team all along, and Lucky Rivera is one of the best shortstops.

And sure, Cade Starr wasn’t really in the radar, but it only took a little bit of spotlight and a lotta bit of no Williams for Cade to become an unstoppable monster.

The three of them are the brains, the brawn, and the heart of this team. I know they alone would’ve taken the team pretty damn far into the postseason.

Then I came along.

Everyone thought I lost my senses for making this move, but I could see what these guys were building—and I knew Marty would fir in better around here. It wasn’t a hard decision.

And now here I am, dressing up for what is possibly the last game of the season, my heart beating a thousand miles per hour, not letting myself consider this done and won so I don’t jinx shit, but desperately wanting it to be so that I can finally ask Audrey out.

But even though I’ve broken my home run record and some, I haven’t smacked a single ball out of the park this series.

Like, I’m playing at my max. I’m not making errors and no ball goes by me. My hits are solid and nasty, making the Riders fielders scramble for their lives while our wildlings score.

No home runs, though. It shouldn’t matter but it does. It makes me wonder if?—

Cállate , I scream to my brain.

Worse is how everyone is thinking the exact same thing. The new team motto has become for the marriage and not for the pizza. And it’s like I’m choking.

No, I’m not . I grit my teeth as I finish rolling up one sock all the way. The team winning is more important than any individual heroics.

Lucky checks his phone and announces, “She should be getting her own pair of socks right about now.”

I wanna see it. I’m sure Audrey will make such a sour expression that it’ll disprove Cade’s nickname for her. But also because as amusing as that part would be, her legs are killer and will still look amazing even when wearing these silly things.

Would Marty like them? I’m fifty-fifty on that. She’s settled into herself a lot, but I feel like if gator socks come from me she’d yuck the heck out of them, whereas if they come from Audrey she’d be all on board. Funny how that’s panned out.

I send a prayer up above that I do get to see that .

I’m only starting to work the second sock up my ankle when there’s some sort of commotion. Those of us who are farther from the door crane our necks to see what’s happening.

“Is there a fight or somethin’?” Cade stands up to try to peek between the heads.

“Excuse me,” McDonald’s voice rings above the murmurs because we’re used to hitting the pause button whenever the coaches raise their voices. “You can’t be in here, we’re gonna have to escort you out.”

Call me nosy, but I also stand on my tippy toes to see who’s getting served with that speech. And of all people I possibly could’ve expected—fans, unauthorized journos, the tooth fairy—the last one was Henry Vos.

“The hell is that piece of shit doing here?” I mumble.

“Let me through or I’ll air every piece of dirty laundry Miguel Machado has!”

“Dude, we all know that he’s in a prefab marriage and that he eats too many carbs. What other laundry does squeaky-clean here have?” Lucky shouts back.

I rub my barely ridged stomach directly, since I haven’t finished dressing yet. It’s true that I’m one of the most carb heavy guys in the team. Not my fault that Venezuelan cuisine is comprised of fried dough.

“He’s trying to steal the team!”

That settles everyone down. One by one, all pairs of eyes turn to me. In the process, the view between the unhinged rich guy and I opens up. He points at me too late to really stress his accusation, only making it more awkward.

I point at myself. “Me? How?”

“Don’t act all innocent. Tell everyone how you married Audrey for her fortune.”

Logan grunts. “You do know that Machado is rich too, right?” That logic goes completely ignored.

“ You .” Henry What’s-His-Problem Vos is so full of bullshit that it must be up to his throat now, with how hard it is for him to get the words out. “You knew that the team was in Audrey’s trust. That’s why you seduced her.”

My eyebrows would take off like airplanes if they could. “I’m sorry, what? ”

“Yeah, dude doesn’t know how to flirt, forget about seducing,” Lucky argues back.

“Uh, excuse me, but I’m a pretty good dancer,” I return.

“Guys, I don’t think that’s the point.” Cade laughs, which is what reminds me of the absurdity of this situation.

Clearing my throat, I squeeze my way between my also nosy teammates and speak directly to the damn jerkface. “Anyway… No, I had no idea about that when we got married. But I find it very curious that you did know that.”

“Yeah… sus,” one of the guys says from the back.

Another one asks, “Wait, does that mean that Machado’s wife is the new owner of the team?”

“Future owner, I think,” a third clarifies.

“Oh, cool. I like a woman on top.”

A round of chuckles.

I snap my mouth shut because, thanks, I really needed the reminder of Audrey on my lap running her hands down my bare chest while in the middle of a jam packed clubhouse. I have to run my hand down my face so I can wipe it off the hunger that always rears itself every time I think of her.

“Please, you fools. How can you possibly trust your future to a blonde woman, who knows nothing about baseball, and lets herself be taken advantage of by an opportunistic clown who only knows how to swing a stick?”

This…

This is probably the worst thing this asshole could’ve said in a room full of clowns who also swing sticks.

“And what makes you think that you know more baseball than Audrey, blondie?” I step into his grill, pointing out the fact that he looks like he bleaches his hair daily. “The fact that you have a twig between your legs?”

“Ooohh.”

“Burn!”

“Yeah, a twig might even be too generous.”

McDonald rolls his eyes behind Vos, probably regretting every choice that led him to this moment. “All right, that’s enough bullshit. Security’s on the way and you need to leave the clubhouse right now.”

“No.” Vos pulls at his suit jacket like somehow that beefs him up or something. “Don’t you know who I am? I will have anyone who touches me fired.”

“Under whose authority?”

Another guy heckles, “The State of Self-Delusion?”

“That’s a good one.”

“Listen.” I balance my weight on one leg. “Even if I wasn’t in the picture, Audrey’s not marrying you and giving you the team, if that’s what you wanted all along.”

One by one my teammates quiet down. Even the staff observes this guy like they can’t believe a venomous centipede somehow managed to walk into the clubhouse right before such an important game.

Beau’s voice rings out in the silence. “Who the hell let this damn fool in?”

“Not me.”

“Me neither.”

The guys keep passing the buck until finally, the only one who can’t deny it is Otto Berger, one of the physical therapists. “What? I thought it was the person delivering the refilled coolers.”

Cade removes his cap and wipes his forehead. “Dude, if I could I’d fire you .”

Shaking my head, I say, “Expect to hear from my lawyers again tomorrow.” And turn around to finish dressing.

But that’s when all hell breaks loose.

With a roar, the self-entitled prick tries something that gets everyone jumping into action. Too late I turn to watch out, and his damn heel slams against my ribs. Same side where I got beanballed.

“Oof.” Air comes out of my mouth.

“Get him!”

“I claim his teeth!” Lucky screams.

“No, I got this. Time to return the favor.” Logan gets in my way, cracking his knuckles.

The coaches are already grabbing the intruder and are shouting orders all across the room.

This is when security finally barges in, and I catch Beau telling them to press charges for assaulting one of the players.

This is gonna get him banned for life from our facilities and from every one of our games, which is great.

I breathe hard, more out of confusion than anything. Between the guys, staff, and security, they swallow Henry Vos up and drag him out, screaming his lungs out. Regaling everyone around him with obscenities and defamations that are building my case against him with no effort on my part.

“You okay?” someone asks me.

I turn and almost jump in my skin. I’ve never seen Lucky Rivera this serious, almost like I’m talking to a completely different person.

“Yeah. I’m good.”

“You sure?” He looks down.

I do too, and this is when it clocks with me that I’m holding my side. And that it’s throbbing.

Slowly, I ease into a casual stance and say, “This won’t be an issue unless we make it one.”

He gets it. I don’t need to spell it out. It’s not that I want to protect my ego or some useless crap like that. But any sign that this mess rattled me could shake the team’s confidence, and that’s the last thing we need tonight.

And the last one I need. I’m not letting that creep ruin my chances of taking Audrey out on a date. That honor only belongs to her.

Lucky gives me a solemn nod, and I get it too. This stays between us, but he’s gonna be watching me. We dab and return to our places to finish suiting up for the game. No one else peeps even a twitch from my face, even though the throbbing is starting to get more annoying.