Just One Night(49)

field.

Right. Start thinking little-sister thoughts.

Camille hollered, “Batter up!” and needlessly blew a whistle, and Sam leaned

over slightly in that “ready” pose of people who actually knew how to play this

sport.

Her chances of being able to focus on the game went from about one percent to

nil when she had an unobstructed view of his butt.

Luckily Emma had taken over the pitching mound and made surprisingly quick

work of the trio of Oxford wives and girlfriends who stepped up to the plate.

The game proceeded in the boring back-and-forth that defined amateur softball,

and finally, finally, the ninth inning rolled around.

“Do you have a mirror?” Riley asked Sam as she tried to find the least ugly helmet

out of the bunch. There was a purple one that wasn’t so bad, but it was planted

firmly on the head of Julie, who was on first base for the first time ever.

Riley was pretty sure Jake had given Julie a pity walk, but she doubted she’d get

any such sympathy. Jake, being the loyal type, only had eyes for Grace and

hadn’t been the least bit enthralled by Riley’s careful Playboy posing two innings

back. She’d struck out.

“It’s not a freaking fashion show,” Sam muttered as he plucked a brown helmet

off the bench and set it on her head, giving it a soft smack on the top.

“This one’s ugly.” She scowled up at him.

He looked down at her, his lips curving in amusement. “But it fits.”

The air became still between them as their gazes held, and Riley quickly stepped

back and grabbed a bat as she silently repeated the mantra Emma had ingrained

in her head.

Make him hate that you’re over him.

“You know this is the closest Stiletto’s ever come to winning?” she asked.

“So? We’re losing five–four, and it’s the bottom of the ninth with two outs.”

Riley glanced at the area above his head. “Oh, look, a little black storm cloud.”

“Just get on base, would ya?”

She shrugged. “Honestly, I’m kind of just in it for the free beer at O’Malley’s after

the game.”

Still, she did kind of want to win. Not because she liked the sport. Because she

liked winning.

Then there was a crack of the bat as Emma lined the ball over the head of the

third baseman and everyone started yelling. Like, everyone.

Ironically, the loudest voice was Emma screaming at Julie to run, run, run, which

was rather unnecessary, as running was the only athletic endeavor Julie could

do, thanks to Mitchell’s penchant for marathons.

Julie apparently drew the line at Emma’s scream to slide but made it safely to

third all the same, while Emma gloated on second and Jake did an admirable job

of not having a heart attack on the pitching mound.

Riley was so delighted with her friends’ success that she didn’t immediately

realize what Emma’s clutch hit meant for her.

Bottom of the ninth.

Two outs.

Runner on third.

Now there wasn’t even a ghost of a chance that Jake would walk her out of pity.

She actually had to swing.

Sam stopped his cheering and came up behind her, planting palms on her

shoulders. “You’ve got this.”

“Really? Because I seem to remember soccer being more my thing.”

“Only because you liked the outfits better.”

“Have you actually seen women’s soccer gear? It’s not exactly a short

cheerleading skirt.”

“I remember the way you wore those soccer shorts.”

She gave him a surprised look, and he shrugged. “First day we met. You’d just

gotten home from practice and were wearing shorts.”

“You remember that?”

“I remember all of it.” His eyes flicked to hers for a half beat before he removed

his hands and shoved her none too gently forward. “Go get ’em.”

Great. Now her hands were shaking from the tension of the game and whatever

moment had just passed between her and Sam.

Camille stood behind the plate with hands on her hips, and Riley saw from her

boss’s narrowed eyes that she’d observed that entire encounter.

“There’s a reason coed sports end after sixth grade,” Camille muttered.

Alex Cassidy came out from the Oxford dugout to stand with Camille behind the

plate. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Just providing a second opinion,” he said smoothly.

“You think I’d cheat?” Camille asked, eyes fierce behind her rented ump mask.

“Let’s just say the stakes got a little higher with that last at bat,” Alex said, his

eyes flicking briefly to second base, where Emma stood, hands on her hips,