Page 7 of Hiding in the Outfield

Dev rolls up to me. “You in for tonight? Need my wingman.” He lifts his fist.

I bump it and scoff. “Is that even a question? I’d never leave you hanging like that.”

He grins. “Plus…spring break. You know?”

I match his grin. “S’gonna be wild.”

So wild. For everyone but me. But I’m so used to playing this part, it’s second to breathing.

“Let’s see if we can get Pebs to come too. That guy needs some pussy. Maybe then he’ll crack a smile.”

“On it.” I slide over to Stone, where Henderson is already trying to convince him to come out.

“Come on, Pebs. You haven’t gone out with the team since the beach.”

Stone is so serious. All. The. Time. Dev’s right, this guy needs something to loosen up. And he’s fucking Jed Stone Junior—and hot as all hell—he could have his pick of anyone.

“It’s spring break, man. You know what that means,” I say.

“Horny college girls,” Dev crows.

That. And they’re usually ready to party hard. Which means I can use the old I think you’ve had too much to drink, maybe another night line to get myself out of anything more than some tonsil tennis.

That’s something else I’ve gotten used to over the years—kissing women. I can kiss them, and it doesn’t even faze me anymore. It does nothing, but at least it keeps my cover solid. And I guess I’m getting some good practice for the day I actually get to kiss a person I want to.

Dark brown eyes with gold flecks flash through my mind. A sultry smile. Purposely tousled hair falling over perfectly manicured eyebrows.

I shove the vision away. Like I always do, unless I find myself especially weak.

“So, Pebs, what will it be?” I prod.

He hesitates. We’ve got him!

“Ah, so that’s how we convince Pebs to hang out with us. There just has to be the promise of getting his dick wet.” Dev smirks and walks backward in the direction of Nebiolo, Winters, and Michaels.

I know Nebs, since we were on the Clippers together last year, but it’d be awesome for Winters and Michaels to come out. Michaels seems like a fun guy, but I haven’t had a chance to get to know him since we’ve really only seen each other in passing in Spring Training. Winters is pretty chill—quiet, but a hell of a ballplayer. We’ve started to get to know each other more, both playing in the outfield. I’ve gotten the feeling he’s uneasy around me, though.

“You three coming?” I ask.

Winters shakes his head and his cheeks flush. “I already have plans.”

“Oh, really?” I lean forward and rest my chin on my hand. “Who is she?” Because that blush was telling as fuck.

Michaels throws an arm around Winters’s shoulders. “What do you mean, who is she? Maybe he just wants to hang out with his awesome roomie. I’m out too. I’m beat.”

A pang of disappointment hits my gut. Another time then. I heave out an exaggerated sigh.

“You two are almost as bad as Araujo and Thompson. I swear those two are inseparable.”

Araujo’s been in Triple-A for two years now, and Thompson came up last year—both starting pitchers. They clicked instantly. Very Stepbrothers “Did we just become best friends?”

I glance around, and the pair is missing from the locker room. “Where are they?” They’re always a fun time. Plus, it’s nice to have extra guys to push the ladies toward. None left for me? Bummer.

“Still in the showers, I think,” Nebs says.

“Ah, probably jerking each other off.” I snicker. It’s a running joke that those two are into each other.

Devereux pitches his voice high. “Oh, Thompsonnn. Right there. Don’t stop! Those two are so fucking gay.”