Stupid Girl(61)

“This is Olivia,” Brax said. “Cory Maxwell, my freakishly large first baseman.”

“Hey,” I said. I held his gaze, refusing to turn from his scrutinizing stare. Maybe he was just in a bad mood because he wasn’t over his girlfriend yet? He could still be frazzled from the tussle, too.

“Hi,” he said curtly, with a quick nod.

“I really love your car,” I offered. “My brother used to have one similar.” Although I had to wonder how he folded all that length into a Camaro.

Something sparked in his eyes, but diffused quickly. “Thanks.” He looked at Brax, then inclined his head to the plate. “Gotta get back to this.”

“Sure thing, Beast.”

And without another word, he pushed something on the wall, snugged his batting helmet down and a ball flew in his direction. He swung with enough strength to take someone’s head off.

“Come on, Gracie,” Brax said. I saw a hint of something in his eyes, too. Disappointment? Guilt? It was gone too fast for me to decipher, and then he slipped me that heart-stopping smile and I couldn’t do anything more except concentrate on standing upright. “Watch me hit a few first, then you can try.” He handed me his Silverback’s hat and stepped into our booth. I watched in awe as Winston’s bad boy grabbed a batting helmet off the wall, a bat from the corner of the booth, and punched the start button. He hunkered into his batting stance, and when the machine pitched a fast ball, Brax’s swing was a mighty one. The bat and ball connected with a deafening thwack. He threw a grin over his shoulder and hit five more, over and over. His body was a powerhouse of ink and muscle and energy and strength, all channeled into a wooden bat to make the ball explode out of the end of it. Every muscle in his arms tightened, defined, and his tee shirt pulled taut over a broad chiseled back. For a fleeting second a thought burrowed into my head, making me wonder exactly what it was that made a guy like Brax Jenkins so attracted to me. I may never understand it.

“Alright Sunshine,” Brax said, breaking me from my thoughts. He stepped off the plate and hit the stop button. “Your turn.”

I stepped inside the cage, and he handed me the bat. “Hold this.” He jogged out to the pitching machine, and then ran back in the easy, bow-legged lope I’d started really looking forward to watching. He grinned, removed his helmet and eased it onto my head. “I readjusted the settings so you’re not swinging at fast balls to start with.” Staht.

I eyed him. “How do you know I can’t hit a fast ball?”

His mouth pulled, amused. “You said you’d never been caged before.”

“Never needed a cage. I had three brothers and an empty hay field.”

“Well,” he said, hit the button on the wall and stepped back. “Let’s see what you do with a fifty mph. Then we’ll go from there.” He didn’t move out of the cage, but stayed off to the side. I could feel his eyes boring into me as I took my stance and stared at the pitching machine. Waiting. The ball pitched, I swung. Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! I hit three in a row.

Brax punched the stop button. “All right smartass, let’s work on something here.”

I smiled. Smaht ass. “But I’m hitting them.”

Brax moved behind me, close. “Get in your stance, Gracie.”

I did as he asked, and he moved closer, the length of his body pressing against the length of mine. His hands found their way to my hips, and he straightened them to the position he wanted. “Right here,” he said. “Now back up, stop crowdin’ the plate.” He nuzzled my neck. “Only I can do that.”

I laughed softly, but it was to mask any other uncontrollable girly sound that might escape my mouth. His arms reached around me. “Now hold up your bat.” I did, and he covered my hands with his. “Down just a bit. Right there. Now grip it tight with them long fingers, Gracie. Strong grip.”

“Okay,” I breathed. I peeked down, at the ink and muscles banding his forearms. He was close, his front to my back. I thought I was going to let out an audible sigh. One that Brax would definitely hear. I pinched my lips together, just in case.

“All right, when that ball comes at you, swivel your hips with your upper body.” He moved me in the way he meant, his arms and hands over mine on the bat. “Use the strength of your whole body when you bat.” He kissed my ear. “Got it, gorgeous?”

I chanced a peek at him. “I got it, smooth talker.”

The door slammed beside us, and we glanced over to see Cory Maxwell shoot us a look of … disdain? He shook his head, his gaze glaring at Brax, then turned and strode toward the pavilion.