Chapter 1

For several long years, the sprawling three-story Victorian mansion, in all its intricately carved, pastel-painted splendor, had sat vacant, with nothing but humble spiders, dust mites, and perhaps the occasional squatter as guests.

But now, Levi Bennet thought as he and his brother climbed its dirt and grime-blanketed porch steps, they'd get to bring the Netherfield Inn back to life.

Jackson rang the bell, and Levi took a moment to glance around the empty wrap-around porch. Already he could tell it desperately needed some sanding, and either some painting or a nice stain, but otherwise it appeared to be in good shape. And he could envision what it would be like for guests to sit outside with a cup of coffee in the morning.

He imagined that was just the sort of thing the new owner had in mind. She'd sounded very enthusiastic about her plans for the neglected BB, and she'd clicked with Bennet Family Contractors right off the bat—in truth, they'd been itching for the opportunity to revamp the old inn, had even been on the verge of buying it when they'd gotten the news it sold.

Thankfully, Bree Carpenter had hired them for the renovation, and by some miracle, her vision aligned with their own plans. Their father had met with her at their office, and they'd talked to her on the phone a few times, but now they'd be meeting her in person, and walk through the space with her.

When the wide, wooden door opened, a tall, willowy woman with reddish-blonde hair scooped back into a messy bun greeted them with a beaming smile. She was dressed casually in shorts and a t-shirt, and her pale green eyes widened a little when she spotted Jackson, whose stylishly cut dark blonde hair, tall, muscular build, and hazel eyes made him a striking figure.

"Hello! I'm Bree." Her voice was bright and musical, and she held out her hand with genuine pleasure. They each shook it in turn as she continued, "You must be Jackson and Levi Bennet?"

Jackson nodded, a little in awe of the woman in front of them. "I'm Jackson, this is my brother, Levi."

"Family business, I'm all for that," Bree said as she gestured them inside. "You ready to get started?"

"Are we ever," Levi told her.

They spent the next half hour going room by room, discussing ideas and jotting down notes. As an interior designer, Bree knew exactly what she wanted, and had already drawn up some preliminary plans, pulling them up on her tablet as they went through the space. They started upstairs, looking at the guest rooms, and made their way down—Levi was particularly charmed at the idea of making over a nook in the upstairs hall as a library space.

"I can't take credit for that," Bree chuckled. "My friend Ro was adamant I turn that space into a library."

Overall, Levi had to admit he was impressed with her initiative and ideas, and so was Jackson if the admiration in his expression was anything to go by.

As they were moving into the dining room, Bree got a text that made her face light up.

"Ro is here," she explained, and handed Jackson the tablet. "Why don't you look through this while I go talk to her? I'll be right back."

He and Jackson looked through Bree's plans for the dining room, but as the plans were solid, and the room was in good shape, there wasn't much to discuss. Jackson pulled out his measuring tape and began taking some measurements while they waited, but Levi decided to go find Bree. He couldn't deny he was also curious about her friend, the mysterious Ro-who-insisted-upon-libraries, a sentiment he could only approve of.

As he wandered back into the foyer, he heard voices coming from the kitchen, pivoted to head in that direction.

"Hiring local is good for the town's economy, and bolsters favor with the community," Bree was saying, and he stopped short of opening the swinging door.

"No argument there," came another voice, this one lower and almost gravelly in a way that settled over Levi's skin like a whisper. He suppressed a shiver as he nudged the door open a crack, just enough to peer through. Thankfully, neither woman was facing the door; he could just see Bree's face turned slightly toward him, while all he could see of her friend was the back of her long, dark hair, loosely curled, brown corduroy blazer with pale blue trouser shorts, and fancy gladiator-style sandals.

"But we already know the company my family uses does stellar work," the woman he assumed was Ro continued, "Whereas we don't know the quality of work this business provides. We don't know anything about these guys—"

"I've been talking with them for weeks, Ro." Bree sounded a little exasperated. "Trust me, I've done my research, and they're the best. And after walking around with them I can tell they really know their stuff—and they really care about this place."

"I'm sure they do—"

"One of them really liked your library idea." Bree said this like it was the ace up her sleeve and would magically change her friend's mind.

But Levi could practically hear Ro roll her eyes. "He might've just said that to get on your good side."

Indignation spread through his veins, like cracks of lava through the earth's surface. Who did this city socialite think she was? She'd never even spoken to him or his family, so how would she know what they were like, or how good their work was?

Before he could consider the pros and cons of storming in there and giving her a piece of his mind, she turned slightly, and that indignation caught in his throat with a surge of shock, and what he later recognized as disappointment.

He knew that figure, even though the last time he'd seen her was at his and Ryder's collegiate championship game—a little more than a couple years ago. Ryder still talked about her often, but Levi hadn't seen hide nor hair of her since then.

He should have known. Ryder called her Ro all the time, but his brain hadn't made the connection until now. He had no idea why she was here, or why Ryder hadn't mentioned it, but Farrow Darcy was in Morton Grove.

Farrow Darcy, the woman he'd been unable to forget for the past few years, despite never having met her in person.

And apparently she didn't approve of her friend's choice of contractor.

Well, she'd just have to deal, he thought as he quietly moved away from the door and back to the dining room.

"You find Bree?" Jackson asked, his face suspiciously hopeful as he glanced up from Bree's tablet.

"She's in the kitchen with her friend."

He didn't explain any further, but there was no need. Jackson simply nodded, and a minute or so later, Bree reentered the room—alone.

Levi was tempted to ask her where her friend was, but didn't want to put her on the spot. Besides, he needed some time to process.

Thankfully, tomorrow was Saturday, and he could work off some of this confusion and frustration at baseball practice. And when he saw Ryder, maybe he could grill his friend about his cousin—if he could figure out how to do so without making it seem like he was interested.

As the cleats he'd dusted off that morning touched down on the field's freshly mowed outfield, Levi took a moment to breathe in the sweet, twangy scent of the grass; that, mixed with notes of the subtle, earthy clay of the infield dirt, invoked the kind of warm nostalgic feeling he was pretty sure you could only feel while on a baseball field.

He felt it on and off every spring and summer, the first time he stepped onto the field for the season, during random moments playing catch, while eating an after-game hot dog—sometimes even just catching sight of a baseball field during the off-season.

There was just something about baseball that dug in and stuck with you.

They got it, Levi thought as his teammates started filtering onto the field. They were all here to play, just because they loved it.

It'd been a couple years since he and Ryder had been released into the quote-unquote ‘real world,' leaving exams, papers, and collegiate ball behind to face adulting. Though some Frontier League teams were nearby, they'd both decided not to pursue professional baseball—but that didn't mean they had to give up the game altogether.

They were fortunate enough to live in an area where competitive adult leagues were established and thriving. They'd had no problem joining the Chicagoland Adult Baseball Association's Tier A league for twenty-somethings, and getting placed on a team with likeminded individuals.

Their team, the Longhorns, had been pretty good the past couple years, but this year they could be the best—he had a feeling.

He hooked his gear bag to the dugout fence, pulled out his maroon ball cap and tugged it down over his waving mop of light brown hair as charcoal gray eyes scanned the field.

His daydreaming was interrupted when his phone buzzed in his pocket; he frowned, pushing back the automatic worry when he saw his brother was calling—Jackson hated phone calls, and he should be at practice by now. Come to think of it, their coach, Andrew, and another teammate seemed to be running late as well.

"Hey," Jackson said when Levi answered. "Everything's fine, but Frank fell off a ladder, and Andrew and I are at the hospital with his wife. We'll head over in a few minutes. Don't tell the others yet, except Ryder—we'll explain when we get there."

"Alright. We'll get practice started," Levi assured him, though his stomach sank with anxiety for their catcher, Frank. Jackson hadn't said whether or not he was injured, but the fact he was in the hospital didn't sound good.

Trying not to think too much about it, he hung up with Jackson and relayed the information to Ryder, who took charge of their practice.

After a warm up run that consisted of a couple laps around the field, they headed back for their gloves to warm up their arms.

"Ready?" Ryder asked Levi, tossing him a ball.

Levi caught it with his ungloved hand, ran his fingers over the familiar red seams, the dirt-covered leather. "You bet."

"By the way, my cousin Ro is in town." Ryder slapped his friend on the back on their way out of the dugout. "You could finally meet her."

Levi kept his voice neutral, turning his head a little so his friend wouldn't see his smile was strained. "Cool."

They jogged out to the outfield with the rest of their teammates, and when they were several yards apart, Levi let the ball fly, watched it sail true, and heard the resounding smack in Ryder's glove. They tossed the ball, the warm-up routine familiar and ingrained. The more he felt his arm loosen, the more he slid into the game, and the less he thought about Frank's possible injury and Farrow Darcy.

"It's going to be a good season," his friend declared. The ball smacked into Ryder's glove at eye level. "I can feel it."

Levi felt the quick answering sting of the ball when Ryder whipped it back, but it was a good, satisfying sting—the kind that came from fielding a good, hard throw. The kind that echoed Ryder's sentiment.

They'd been on the same team for years now; that part was no different. But, Levi thought with a glance at the dugout, this year Ryder's cousin Andrew—who'd been injured during a game his senior year of college and no longer played full out—was the coach of their team, and Jackson was team captain. Some of the guys might rag on them about it—playing favorites, that sort of thing, as he'd experienced with coaches in the past—but the guys knew Jackson and Andrew were fair, and that Ryder was one of the best pitchers in the league, so he wasn't worried about it.

In fact, he was looking forward to it.

"You say that every year," he called to Ryder as he returned the throw.

Ryder called back as he snagged the ball. "Yeah, well, am I ever wrong?"

Levi was trying to think of a smart-ass reply when one of the other players cried out.

"Hey, check out the hottie!"

Ryder dropped his arm before he could throw, and he and Levi turned. Billy Collins, the player who'd called out, gestured toward the outfield fence, where a figure leaned against the chain-link, arms resting on the yellow ridged plastic rim.

Levi's stomach dropped, both in anticipation and trepidation.

And, okay, that flare of indignation. He wasn't sure how to feel about her sudden appearance; not only had she come to a practice, she'd actually approached the field and seemed inclined to say hello.

That was a first.

Though it had to be in the mid-seventies, she wore slim jeans that flared at the bottom, a gaping hole in one of the knees, a plain blue-jean ball cap, and a dark gray V-neck tee that somehow managed to look loose without looking baggy. He was just close enough to see the jeans were a little too long on her, so only the front half of her orange Chucks were visible.

It was a complete contrast to her outfit from the day before, giving Levi a kind of mental whiplash.

Ryder's grin broke out at the spurt of recognition, and she lifted a hand in an enthusiastic wave. He waved back, and Billy wiggled his eyebrows. "You know her?"

"Yeah, that's my cousin, Farrow." Ryder noticed the others had stopped warming up, too, glancing between him and Farrow, who, with the ease of experience, had hoisted herself onto the fence instead of going through the gate when Ryder gestured for her to come over. She dropped down as Levi jogged over to Ryder's side.

"Did you invite her?" Levi asked.

"Yeah."

Levi nodded, almost absentmindedly; to Ryder, the look on his friend's face seemed simultaneously annoyed and eager.

How curious.

The rest of the players had gathered around them, Billy letting out a low whistle as Farrow walked toward them, the slight breeze playing with her long chestnut hair—so similar to Ry's—under her cap.

"Your cousin's hot."

"Hey," Ryder growled, and even Levi's stomach tightened, just a little, at the predatory look on Billy's face. "Don't make me throw this ball at you."

Billy shrugged. "I'm just saying. I'd tap that."

Ryder narrowed his eyes. "Dude. Seriously."

"Hey!" Farrow called out as she stepped up to the huddle. Out of habit, Ryder tossed her the ball in his hand; she caught it with one hand, immediately began fiddling with it. "Thought I'd come by and see you and Andrew in action. Where is he, anyway?"

"He and our captain had an errand and are running late," Ryder explained without batting an eye. "We're just finishing warming up. Guys, this is my cousin Farrow; Ro, this is the team."

"I can see that," she smirked a little, though Levi thought she was deliberately avoiding looking directly at him, which only irritated him more. "Anyway, don't let me interrupt practice; I'll just go hang out in the dugout."

"Why don't you join us?"

Levi caught the flash of surprise on her face, one that mirrored Ryder's as he turned to Levi. Levi just grinned; though he was surprised at himself as well, he was curious why she was here, and why she was suddenly more sociable—or at least, slightly more sociable. And he could admit he was getting a kick out of putting Miss High and Mighty on the spot.

"Frank isn't here yet, so you'll need someone to catch for you," he said to Ryder, noting his friend's raised brow at the mention of Frank. Perhaps he was getting his hopes up about Frank's condition. "And I, for one, would like to see the Dynamic Duo in action."

Before Ryder could speak, Billy snorted. "Her? Catch for Ryder? Yeah, right."

A particular gleam came into Ro's crystalline blue eyes—one Levi had often seen in his friend Cristina's when she had a point to prove. Something told him Farrow wasn't the type to back down from a challenge; he wasn't sure what that meant for the one he'd inadvertently issued.

Uh-oh,was all he could think.

"Let me guess." To anyone paying attention, Ro's smile was deceptively calm. "You don't think girls can play baseball."

"Not real baseball," Billy said, and Ro arched an eyebrow. "And there's a reason Ryder here is known as ‘Torch.' Even Frank has a hard time keeping up with him sometimes."

"There's also a reason our cousin Andrew calls us the Dynamic Duo." Ro carefully kept her smirk in place as she looked at Ryder, who suspected he was the only one who could see the hint of annoyance behind her eyes. He thought of all the times he'd heard Billy talk about how the sports skills of women were inferior, of how each time he'd thought of mentioning Ro, who was the best catcher he knew, but never did.

He'd always sort of thought Billy was a jerk with a pubescent mind, but he'd ignored it because he played the game well. Maybe that had been a mistake. Now, as the annoyance he sensed in Ro became a question, he thought of Levi's request. It might be fun to prove Billy wrong.

He grinned, nodded at her. "Fortunately, the Dynamic Duo's been in action for several years. Got your glove with you, Vac?"

She rolled her eyes at the nickname, but grinned back. "Always. Where's the gear?"

"In the dugout."

"Got it. Be right back." She turned and headed back toward the fence, and Ryder gestured toward the infield.

"'Kay, guys," he said as he headed in. "Guess it's time for some infield practice."

Farrow felt her temper lodge in her gut as she walked to her car, opened it. Why did guys always think she was inferior just because she was female? As far as she was concerned that shouldn't mean squat.

And yet, she'd had to work three times as hard as any man just to get people to take her seriously, even in her family's own company. Unfortunately, a lot of people—her own uncle included—often dismissed her as nothing but a silly little heiress.

Boy did she love proving them wrong.

She'd go along with the plans for The Pemberley hotel chain, but she also had plans of her own, starting with helping Bree with the Netherfield Inn. She didn't care what Andrew's snooty father had to say about that. It was her own endeavor, hers and Bree's, and had nothing to do with Pemberley.

Baseball—and softball—had often been her escape from worldly pressures, familial expectations, and the general anxiety of life. So it was a slap to the face to have some dude belittle what was sacred to her.

She felt the knot loosen to anticipation as she pulled her catcher's mitt from her gear bag. It had been a little while since she'd played catch with Ryder, but they never missed a beat. And crouching behind home plate was—for her—well, home.

She glanced down at her shoes, decided it would probably be better if she wore her cleats. With that, she slung her gear bag over her shoulder, locked her car.

When she reached the dugout, Ryder was there with one of the other players, pulling out the catcher's gear; the rest of the team was warming up in the infield, though she noticed shortstop was empty.

Naturally, it would be him. Shortstop. She'd thought she'd recognized his gait, his ease with Ryder, but it'd been so long since she'd seen him she couldn't be sure. Now there was no doubt in her mind, and she did her best not to let the reality of him distract her.

She could feel some of the team watching her, though it seemed mostly from curiosity—except for the smug arrogance coming from second.

"You're really going to have to adjust these straps, Short Stack," Ryder said to her as she sat on the metal bench, tugged at her shoe laces.

She stuck her tongue out at him. "Used to it."

Shortstop, his sun-lightened brown hair curling a bit around his ears and under his ball cap, set the catcher's mask next to her. She'd been right all those years ago—he was certainly very handsome. She hoped she didn't look like a lovestruck puppy.

"I'm Levi, by the way," he said, holding out a hand.

She shook it firmly, as had been ingrained into her, even as her heart slapped against her chest cavity, then began putting her cleats on. "Levi Bennet?"

He gave her a charming grin she thought only movie stars could pull off, wiggled his brows over gray eyes that reflected all the surrounding colors like mirrors. "Heard of me, have you?"

Though she mentally kicked herself when she realized there was another reason she'd heard the name Bennet, it was impossible not to smile back. "If you're the Levi Bennet Ryder's been telling me about for the past several years. I was starting to get jealous."

"Back at you."

There was something else behind the words, under the tone and the charm. Something testing and inquisitive, but she didn't have time to examine it at the moment.

"Hey, stop flirting with my cousin." Ryder's voice was a little exasperated, reminding her of a cloud of exhaust puffing out of a tired engine as he dropped the gear in front her. As she finished tying her laces, she kept her gaze from his all-too-observant eye. "And you, stop flirting with my friend."

"No guarantees, bro." Levi slapped Ryder's shoulder, sent Ro a wink. Before she had time examine what that meant, or what his wry smile did to her, his face sobered a little. "In all seriousness, though, I expect you to wipe that smirk off Billy's prickish face."

She spared a glance at the second baseman, who caught her looking. "You done primping yet, sweetheart? We haven't got all day," he called out. She heard some of the other players chuckle and decided she wouldn't dignify the question with a response.

"That guy?" she asked Levi.

"Yeah."

"My pleasure."

She started with the shin guards first, clipping them into place and tugging the straps tight. She was pulling the chest protector over her head when a familiar blue Jeep and an unfamiliar black pickup pulled into the parking lot.

A lanky man she recognized as her other cousin got out of the Jeep, slid a maroon cap onto his head over his shortly cropped ginger hair. The other guy, who she assumed was Jackson Bennet—Levi's older brother, if she remembered Ryder and Bree's info correctly—stepped out of the truck, hailed them as they headed toward the dugout. The rest of the team started heading in, too, when Andrew called out, "Bring it in, guys."

"Hey, Andrew," Farrow greeted him as he approached.

"Farrow." Though he was clearly surprised, Andrew smiled at her. "What's going on?"

"Ro came to visit," Ryder told him. "And since Frank isn't here yet, I thought she could catch for us." He deliberately left out the part about Billy's taunting Ro. Though you wouldn't know it from his build, Andrew could be a bear if you angered him.

Jackson nodded, but his mind seemed to be somewhere else. The team had filed into the dugout by that time; now they stood, waiting for him to say something as he took off his cap to run his fingers through thick, dirty blonde hair before setting it back on his head.

"Right," he finally said, mostly to himself. He rubbed the back of his neck, looked up at the team. "About Frank. We were just at the hospital. He's in the emergency room getting a cast on a broken arm."

"What happened?" One of the players asked.

"Apparently he was helping his father clean his gutters this morning, and fell off the ladder," Andrew informed them. "Obviously, he won't be able to play this season. We have to think about what that means for the team."

Ryder looked at Ro, laid a hand on her shoulder. "You picked a hell of a day for a visit. Think you can do some filling in today?"

"C'mon, Ryder." Billy straightened from where he leaned against the dugout wall. "You can't be serious."

"I'm always serious about baseball, Billy." Knowing Ro, he kept a firm hand on the shoulder of the chest protector to keep her in place. "Trust me, Farrow here will be a big help today."

Nodding in agreement, Andrew chipped in. "Why don't we do some fielding drills?"

He and Jackson assigned players to the other eight positions, with the remaining players acting as runners. When they headed into the field, Ro took off her cap and pulled the hair tie from around her wrist, began to twist her hair back in a ponytail; and when Jackson went to grab a bat and a bucket of balls, Billy gave her a smug wink.

"Try not to break a nail."

Real original,she thought, giving him a silky sweet smile expertly laced with acid. She pumped that same acid into the tone of her voice as she held up her hands, nails out, so he could clearly see they were cut short.

"I don't have any nails to break." She folded her fingers inward so that only her middle finger remained. "Sweetheart."

Billy scowled for a moment, but chuckled as he walked out to second. Levi, clearly amused at the interaction, gave her an encouraging smile and nod before taking his place at short. As the runners grabbed batting helmets, Ro picked up the catcher's mask.

"Hm," Ryder said, frowning. "That might be a little big for you."

Nodding, Ro simply hiked up her ponytail a nudge, picked up her cap, placed it on backward. "I'll make it work."

He held out his fist; she bumped it with her own before placing the helmet on her head, picking up her glove. She waddled out to take her place behind the plate—the fit of the gear was a little restricting, but since she was petite, that was pretty much always the case.

But she'd never felt awkward in the thick, padded gear. It had always felt right. Though nothing felt more right than a glove on her hand, she thought as she slipped hers on.

Andrew already stood at the plate, a bat on his shoulder. He reached into the bucket behind him as she faced the diamond, sat back on her haunches.

"Ready?" he asked her.

"Play ball," she said with a smirk, and slid the mask down over her face.

They spent a half hour or so fielding the flies and grounders Andrew hit their way, working on the plays he called out, including some at home. Between plays, he instructed the runners with hand signals. He switched up the runners, switched up positions a couple times, including putting one of the other players on short, Levi on second, and Billy at the pitcher's mound. Billy barely acknowledged her, but she imagined he wished he could purposefully throw her a stray pitch.

Then they switched up positions again, and Ryder moved back to the mound.

"I'm going to warm up a little," he told her, grinning. "Nothing fancy today, just sticking to fastballs."

From her crouch, she gave him a thumbs up, readying her glove.

From shortstop, Levi watched them, Ryder's throws getting harder with each pitch—he heard each one make that familiar satisfying smack into Ro's glove.

It was sort of like magic, he thought. He knew Ryder's pitches could go wild when he got too nervous, but with Ro behind the plate he seemed calmer.

And Ro? Jesus, she could move.

Sometimes without hardly seeming to move at all. He winced a little as the next pitch went a little low, bounced up from the dirt in front of the plate.

But Ro went to her knees, scooped it right up—like a vacuum cleaner. The Vac. He grinned to himself, admiration reluctantly worming its way inside him.

They were a unit, the two cousins who loved baseball. You only had to watch to know it, to realize they'd probably been the Dynamic Duo longer than most people knew. As good a catcher as Frank was, he'd never have the bond with Ryder that Ro did—no one would. And though he was sorry he'd be stuck spending time with someone who thought so little of his family, and sorrier about Frank's injury, he couldn't help the thought that popped into his head.

Maybe there was a little bit of fate in the works.

Some might find the thought corny, or ridiculous, he knew—Billy certainly would—but it seemed to him that sometimes baseball was just as much about fate as it was about practice, faith, skill, and luck.

After a few more pitches, Ryder nodded. "I'm good."

Andrew had the current runners get up to bat, getting them to make plays for a few rounds before suggesting they practice plays for a runner stealing a base. He looked at Levi. "Be ready at two."

Levi grinned and nodded, but Billy, now the runner at first, sputtered out a laugh. "There's no way the chick can throw that far."

Ro couldn't quite resist the urge to grind her teeth, though she heard the first baseman—Henry, she remembered Andrew calling him—hiss out, "Shut up, man." She heard the sternness in Andrew's voice, a bit like he was scolding a misbehaving child, when he said, "That's enough, Billy," and called the play: Billy would attempt to steal second sliding in, Ro would make the throw to Levi.

When her eyes met Ryder's, he gave her a nod. To her the nod said, Let's kick his ass—metaphorically speaking, of course. In response, she pounded a fist in her glove, held it at the ready. Let out a slow breath.

Ryder wound up, hitched his leg. The moment the ball left his hand, Billy shot off the bag. The ball hit her glove in less than a second, and she was already pivoting, her arm reaching into her glove for the ball even as she brought it back for the throw.

Instead of taking a step—which used up precious half-seconds—she used the momentum of her torso to put force behind the throw, hurling the ball toward second just as Levi reached it. He caught it, turning, and was about to crouch to tag the runner on a sweep, when he noticed that Billy hadn't even bothered to slide. So he simply stood over the base, glove out in front of him.

And Billy barreled into him.

They both hit the ground on a groan. Heart pounding, Ro immediately ripped off her mask and mitt as Andrew and the rest of the team hurried over to where the two men were sitting up. Billy removed his helmet as Levi held up his glove, the ball still snug in its web.

"You're out, asshole."

"Levi." Jackson gave him a shake of the head as Ryder helped him up. "There's no need to call each other names."

But Ryder's fury was barely restrained, the taut chains around it about to snap as he looked at Billy, who had already gotten to his feet.

"Would you like to tell me why you ignored the instructions to slide? You could have seriously injured yourself, and Levi, and we're already down a team member."

"He didn't think he'd need to," Ro said, folding her arms over the chest protector. "I can't throw that far, remember? Hell, I'm surprised he didn't just walk to second."

Billy, for once, was silent. She couldn't read his face either—he seemed pissed, of course, and maybe…embarrassed? Sheepish? Maybe that was just wishful thinking.

Andrew sighed. "Okay, guys. I think that's enough for today."

But he held Billy back with a friendly but firm hand to his shoulder, speaking to him in low tones while the others headed in.

Ro went to retrieve her glove and mask from where she'd dropped them before carrying them to the dugout; she began removing the catcher's gear as the others picked up and stowed the rest of the gear. The dugout was quiet but for the muffled thumps of packing up and the zipping of gear bags, until Levi cleared his throat.

"I have a suggestion."

"What?" Jackson asked.

"I think Farrow should join the team."

He watched as Ro paused in the act of shoving the chest protector into the large canvas bag that held the catcher's gear and batting helmets, looked up at him in astonishment. The dugout had gone silent; even Billy looked on, too dumbfounded to think of anything to say. Ryder exchanged a considering look with Jackson before turning the same one on Andrew.

"Me?" Ro straightened. "Are women even allowed in this league?"

"Technically, it's a men's league," Brandon, their right fielder, shared. "But it's not labeled as one, and as far as we know, there are no rules against female players."

Fred, their left fielder, held up the bat he was stowing away. "What about batting? We haven't even seen her hit, or run."

"Man," Henry shook his head. "If she can hit half as good as she catches, we'll be fine."

"Trust me," said Ryder. "She can."

"Excuse me?" Ro raised her hand. "Still here. I haven't even said if I'd like to join the team."

"Would you?" asked Ryder, raising his brows.

"I'd have to think about it."

She'd tried to sound stern, Levi noted, but she couldn't meet her cousin's eyes. Ryder himself didn't seem surprised by this, simply nodding his head as though he'd expected her answer. Levi knew it was practical for her to think about it before giving an answer—she did have other obligations, after all—but the disappointment he felt at the idea of her not playing with them was palpable.

What was wrong with him?

He snapped out of this train of thought when Ryder spoke again.

"Our next practice isn't for a couple days," Ryder was saying. "Why don't you get back to us by then?"

Ro bit her lip, but nodded. "Sounds good."

"Okay, everyone. Practice Monday, same time." Andrew clapped his hands, breaking up the huddle. As everyone went back to packing up, he glanced back at Ro, amused. "I think you can put those shin guards away now."

She looked down at her gear-clad legs, smirking when she raised her head. "You got it. Coach."