Page 85 of The Sweet Spot

Tate jogs in behind me, takes one look, and shakes his head. “Only you would be this weird, Callahan.”

“You have no idea,” I tell him, and I mean it with every fiber of my being.

I should go sit in the dugout and calm the fuck down, but the adrenaline coursing through my body is making rational thought impossible right now.

My eyes connect with hers instead.

Fuck it.

Just like that, instead of going down the dugout steps, I pull myself up and over the roof.

My manager's yelling at me to get back on the field, but my teammates are cheering me on. I know I’m in trouble when I’m down there, but right now, I don't give a fuck.

When my feet land on the concrete floor of the stands, the fans start losing their minds and reach for me. Normally, I'd speak to every single one of them, but right now, they don't matter.

Frankly, I don't see any of them. I see exactly one person, standing now with her eyes wide, mouthing what the fuck are you doing with her hands already coming up as though that's going to stop me.

“Excuse me,” I say politely to the fans who are getting in the way.

My name is being called in every direction, there's a camera crew following me now, and even though the security guards are coming down to no doubt collect me, I get to her before they can. “JB. What the hell—”

I take her face in both hands and kiss her like the whole stadium isn't watching.

The crowd cheers as her hat falls to the floor, and she kisses me back. There's no way she's not feeling as high on this hit as I am.

“Are you getting this?” Sienna asks the cameraman, who I can feel right behind me.

“JB. What the fuck are you doing?” My manager's voice is closer now.

I pull back just enough to see her face, because I know this moment is going to end any second.

“You did it,” I say. “You made me lucky again.”

“I don't believe in luck, JB. I believe in you. That's the difference.” She looks dazed and undone, but somehow she manages to speak the truth. “Now go, you're going to get fined.”

“Worth it.” I press one more kiss to the corner of her mouth. “You're a legend. You know that? An absolute legend.”

“Go, JB.”

Before I can start making my way back to the dugout, a security guard has my arm and is dragging me away through the crowd.

“You're an idiot,” my manager says when I'm close enough to hear him.

“An idiot in love,” I retort.

By the time I'm escorted back down to the dugout, I have to stop myself from skipping, since I know I'm in big trouble for this. I don't care, though.

My teammates mutter their appreciation under their breath, none of them wanting to get in trouble too.

I sit down and look at my gloves, grinning like a fool.

“Callahan,” the umpire calls me over, and I make sure to hide any emotion on my face, almost certain they're going to kick me out of the game. Grayson will be so angry if they replace me with Kyle, but he'll get over it one day when he realizes how being in love feels.

I don't care how much trouble I'd get in. I do it again, and again, if it means I get to kiss her.

Best at-bat of my life, and it has nothing to do with my hands.

“I’m sorry you got kicked out of the game,” Whit says. Her head is on my shoulder, and her hand is in my lap as we sit in the empty stands, watching the groundskeepers working on the stadium’s grass.