Chapter 28

Brooks

Sunday night,we land back in Copper Valley, and for the first time in seven years, the Fireballs have won more games than they've lost in the first month of the season.

For the first time in my life, I get a warm glow in my chest as we fly over rural areas, blue-tinged rolling mountains at sunset, and land in a place that isn't New York City but still fits the definition of home for me.

I go straight to Mackenzie's place when I get off the plane, riding the high that comes with knowing I made a big fucking difference in these past two series.

She swings open the door and blinks at me like she doesn't know me. "What are you doing here?"

Kissing her.

That's what I'm doing here.

I'm kissing the hell out of the woman who's occupied every waking thought that wasn't distracted by playing a damn good baseball game, because I know I don't get to kiss these lips and thrust my fingers through her hair and press my body against all these curves if I don't deliver on the ball field.

She squeaks, but then melts into me, looping her arms around my waist and kissing me back, and fuck, yes, this is what I want to come home to every time.

Coco Puff erupts in excited puppy barks and charges from wherever he was hiding. "You're here! I love you! You're the biggest winner!" his collar crows, which startles me enough that I pull out of kissing Mackenzie to stare at my puppy.

Swear he's doubled in size since I left. And when he leaps at my legs, he can reach the bottom of my knees now.

He's still barking, and his collar's still translating. "You give the best hugs! The world needs your smile! I love you!"

Mackenzie smooths her hair and steps back while I pick up my puppy. He licks my face as I hold his wriggling body at eye-level for inspection. "Who's the best boy in the world?"

He barks. "You make me happy!"

"Did Aunt Eloise remotely fix your collar? Did she get mad that I wasn't mad that you had a potty mouth?"

"Um, that's my fault." Mackenzie rubs him behind his ears. "We thought some positive reinforcement might be better for your overall happiness."

"We?"

She's turning bright pink, and I want to kiss her again, but she's angling away like she knows it and doesn't want to risk what it might do to my game. "Coco Puff and me."

That's her I'm lying voice. "Your dads did this, didn't they?"

"No."

I lift a brow.

"Fine. Yes. It was my dad. But he's not wrong. Spreading happiness is always better than spreading name-calling. For both you and Coco Puff. But don't worry. We got all the video we needed of Meaty walking your foul-mouthed dog through Reynolds Park and horrifying half the residents of Copper Valley before the, um, incident that required the collar to be upgraded."

I can't decide which part of her story is making me smile bigger. "Video for after you lead Meaty to victory? To prove he was a lying, cheating, profane bastard of a mascot who can't be allowed to continue?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I talked Lila into ordering Fireballs pajamas for the whole team to wear on the plane ride for our next away series. With Fiery on them."

"Oh my god, stop talking or I'm going to strip out of my clothes and seduce you right back."

I follow her deeper into her apartment. It's not like we have far to go—the place isn't big. "I hit a triple yesterday."

She licks her lips and her gaze dips to my mouth. "I saw."

"And a double today."

"Two doubles."

"Plus that diving grab at third in the fifth that robbed Atlanta of two runs…"

Coco Puff barks. "You're the bestest human in the history of humans!"

"Don't forget his ego, Coco Puff." Mackenzie's still backpedaling, but she's smiling, and I'm having visions of stripping her out of that Fiery Forever T-shirt. "It's huge too."

"I earned this ego."

"Have you?"

"You know I have. And doesn't good play deserve a reward?"

She stumbles against the edge of her couch, which is lined with Fireballs throw pillows and a plush Fiery the Dragon. "I was going to meet you at your place so you didn't have to come all the way over here."

"I like it here better."

Her eyes crinkle weird, but she quickly straightens and dodges the couch while Coco Puff and I trail her. "Here's awful. The neighbors upstairs like to dance Irish jigs. And it makes my bobbleheads all click together. I'll get my keys, and then I can follow you to make sure you get home okay. We can't risk doing anything else that'll mess with your hitting streak."

My dick gives a long-suffering sigh, but the rest of me—the rest of me likes the thrill of the chase.

And then there's the part of me ready to fully acknowledge that it could be sexual frustration fueling the power I put behind my bat, and she could be doing the best thing possible for my career.

I've started getting addicted to the idea of being a leader on a team that goes from zero to hero within a year.

I've also discovered that all of my favorite pranks that no longer worked in New York are fresh and new here. It's like being given a second chance at life after forgetting all of the things you used to love.

"I like Irish jigs," I tell Mackenzie.

Coco Puff barks in agreement, and his collar does its job, this time belting out a song lyric about sunshine and cloudy days.

The smile Mackenzie aims at my puppy is so sweet and pure, I can't help laughing for the sheer pleasure of being happy.

Her eyes fly to mine. "Your sister-in-law won't retaliate by sending you even worse puppy toys, will she?"

"Nah. I can handle her."

There are roughly two dozen dog toys scattered around the room—mostly because Coco Puff is lunging out of my arms to get to them—and as I set my puppy down, something she said a long time ago comes back to me. "Why don't you foster dogs anymore?"

"You really want to push my buttons tonight, don't you?"

No, but now I want to take her out for a Nutella bacon milk shake, because watching her go from happy to sad and knowing it's my fault is making me feel like an ass. "That painful?"

She stops with her bobblehead collection framed behind her, and she fingers the fringe on the woven Fireballs blanket on the back of her chair. "No. I mean, yes, it was painful, but also…well, stupid. I don't always know my limits. And sometimes I ignore other limits. Like how many dogs I'm allowed in my apartment…and how many I can handle on a leash at once…"

I was waiting for her to tell me she had to say goodbye to a favorite, or too many of her favorites got adopted. But no—this is a pure Mackenzie answer.

The woman is incapable of half-assing anything.

She scowls at me. "It's not funny."

"I'm not smiling."

"Yes, you are."

"Took a ball to the head in warm-ups. My face keeps twitching. I can't help it."

"Liar."

"You're fucking adorable."

Those big blue eyes blink slowly at me, like she's trying to decide if I'm serious or not. "I shouldn't be your new good luck charm. It's a bad idea."

"I'm not here because of luck, Mackenzie. I'm here because I like you."

"That makes me really worried about your mental state."

She says it like she's trying to make a joke, but the way she's holding her shoulders and clutching the fringe on that blanket tells me she honestly doesn't think it's possible for a sane person to like her.

"Who hurt you?"

She jerks her attention to me at the question, and then we both glance at her hand.

As if that's what I meant.

She's not wearing bandages anymore, but she clenches it like she doesn't want me to see. "No one hurt me. I just haven't found anyone who appreciates my unique outlook on life."

"Seeing the world as a happy place and having hope and belief in something makes you unique?"

"I'm obsessive, I'm overprotective of my dads, and Sarah is literally the only friend I have outside of Periwinkles who's stuck with me for more than two years."

"You know you're the Fireballs' favorite fan."

"And I couldn't even talk to any of you until spring training. That's not normal."

"I share genetics with people who do things like marry guys named Randy Pickle and decorate like they're seventies porn stars. Normal and I haven't ever shared a glance. We might've passed on the street once, but we pretended like we didn't see each other. It was awkward. For everyone."

She stops playing with the fringe. "Randy Pickle?"

"Repeat that to Parker, and my brothers and I will have to carry you up the side of a building to burn your eyebrows off one hair at a time while we make you repeat good things about her." Dammit. There I go again. I swipe a hand over my mouth. "Kidding."

Her eyes narrow. "No, you're not. I know about some of the things you guys did to Knox."

"You've never defended your dads?"

"Not with—" She stops and turns that adorable pink. "You need to go home. Get your slugger sleep. Out. Go."

"Mackenzie."

"I'm serious. Coco Puff needs you to spoil him rotten, and you need to take advantage of every minute you have to rest up before the game on Tuesday. And meditate. You should meditate. Actively picture yourself hitting a home run thirty minutes a day."

"What did you do to defend your dads?"

"What wouldn't you do to defend Parker?"

"Nothing." Not that she needs me to anymore—she has Knox, and he's a good dude, especially with how tolerant he's been of all the tests my brothers and I have put him through.

But who does Mackenzie have to help her?

No one like my brothers, that's for sure.

"That's the same as I'd do for any of my family at Periwinkles." She points to the door. "Now go. I'm serious. You need your rest, and you could tell me that you got a full-body tattoo of Fiery, and I'd still kick you out even if I wanted to lick it all over."

"You'd lick me all over if I got a full-body Fiery tattoo?"

A blue flame glows in her eyes, but she quickly squeezes them shut and points. "Out."

"You're pointing to the kitchen. Do you want me to make you a sandwich, or do you want me to leave? Or I could paint Fiery on you with Nutella."

I need to shut up, because watching her skin flush is making me want to kiss her again.

Could I talk her into it?

Damn right.

Would I feel like an ass afterward, because I know how hard she's trying to resist in the name of the game?

Yep.

"Thanks for watching Coco Puff. He likes it here."

She pries one eye open and watches me while I pick up my puppy and the monster dragon squeaky toy that he won't release.

She points again, this time to the door. "His bag's there."

"I see it."

Now she's watching with both eyes, and she's biting her lip again. "Are you mad at me?"

I grin. "Not a fucking chance. I love a good chase. And you can't stop me from stepping up to the plate with the memory of you with your fingers up your pussy, so I'll hold onto that for as long as it takes for you to realize you're my good luck charm."

I blow her a kiss on my way out the door.

She's standing there, her pink lips round, her eyes dark, her cheeks that perfect rosy blush.

Yeah.

That's one for the memories too.