Page 96 of The Golden Scoop

I shoot him a glare sharp enough to be considered assault. He doesn’t shy away.

“I played tennis.”

“This isn’t tennis.”

I switch hands with exaggerated determination and adjust my stance without any solid knowledge. He steps out of the cage and I try again.

The pitch flies toward me.

Miss.

“Okay—wait.”

Matt walks back over, reaching for the bat gently instead of teasing me.

“Which hand do you have more control with?” he asks.

I lift my right hand.

“You want that one on top.” He adjusts my grip. “It helps guide the swing. The bottom one gives you power.”

He curls my fingers around the handle, warms hands covering mine. Then he taps the inside of my shoes with his own until they’re spread about a shoulder’s length. One hand fixes my elbow, correcting the angle, while the other steadies me.

Every point of contact sends sparks straight through me.

Matt starts explaining something about speed, but my brain has already given up. I hear him, not process it. All I can focus on is the heat of his body behind mine and the steady rise and fall of his chest every time he breathes.

When his hands cup my face, I finally break through. Our gazes lock.

If he kissed me right now, I’d be out the door without another thought about baseball.

He doesn’t.

“Don’t swing early. Watch it come all the way in.”

“You’re being so bossy,” I mutter, eyebrow raised. “Are you trying to turn me on?”

His mouth twitches.

“Save that for later, honey,” he whispers. “You’ve got no idea how bossy I can be.”

“Big talk.”

Matt steps out the cage with a quiet laugh.

The next pitch comes and I swing just like he said.

The ball makes contact, messy and low, but still travels a couple of feet before bouncing the rest of the way.

“That’s it,” he cheers, grinning like a little league coach.

I keep going. Every hit gets a little bit cleaner, stronger. The soreness in my arms grows exponentially until it’s hard to keep the bat up.

“Okay,” I groan, pulling off the helmet. “I need a break.”

Two big steps and Matt’s in front of me, filling my personal space completely.

This time, I don’t mind it at all.