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“Fifth? He comes home, and I get dropped?” Emmett glares at me.
“You had the most strikeouts last season.” Jude doesn’t even look up to acknowledge Emmett.
“I’m older,” I tell my little brother.
“You’ll be dropped before the season is over.” Emmett puffs out his chest.
“We’ll see about that.” Nothing like brotherly competition to throw gasoline on the fire crawling through my veins right now. Perfect for me to go out there and hit a home run.
The umpire calls over the captains to start the game.
I grab my mitt from my bag and see Brooks stretching on the field in front of the dugout. “What are you doing?”
“I don’t want to pull anything,” he says, continuing to twist his body like he’s in a yoga class.
“Make sure to stretch your groin, it’s probably stiff from lack of use.” Lottie puts a wad of bubble gum into her mouth.
“Am I wrong? This is recreational softball?” I ask.
He bends down, and the women on the bleachers whistle at his ass in the air. He blows them a kiss between his legs.
“I feel like I belong over with Wild Bull,” I grumble.
Looking across the field, I quickly change my mind. The Wild Bull players look as if they’re ready to be drafted into the majors, while we look like a bowling league. This should be fun.
“What’s our budget for uniforms?” I ask, nodding to the other team currently taking practice swings in unison.
“Walker Matthews takes this seriously,” Brooks says. “He buys all the uniforms, and if you forget an item, you don’t play.”
I think we need to up our game. Then again, it’s fucking recreational softball.
Jude returns after shaking Walker Matthews’s hand. “We’re home.”
Everyone grabs their mitts. Since I already have mine, I step out of the dugout as my cousin Scarlett walks in. She still has her heels on.
“I made it,” she says, a little winded.
Romy hands her cleats.
Scarlett handles all the business aspects of the ranch—mostly, I think, all the marketing for the various businesses.
“Where do you want me?” I ask Jude.
“You’re going to be a DH.”
I frown. “A DH?”
He pats me on the back. “You can cheer for the team.”
Great. Since when do softball teams have designated hitters?
Scarlett practices pitching to our cousin Bennett as catcher. At least Jude didn’t give me that position. She’s all over the plate, and Bennett is dodging left and right to catch the pitches she’s throwing.
Walker Matthews heads up to the plate, staring at Scarlett the entire time. “Give me your worst, Scar.” He taps his bat on his cleats and takes a few practice swings.
“Go, Scarlett!” the girls cheer, and she gives them a wave.
Scarlett throws her first pitch, and it goes way high. Walker makes a whistling sound as it breezes over his head. She scowls at him. Their dislike for each other is well-known. The constant competition between Wild Bull and Plain Daisy as to who is the bigger and better ranch is endless. When Wild Bull opened up a country store last year, I thought Scarlett was going to lose her mind.
