Page 77 of The Curveball
“You’re not a random fan, Sage.” He chuckles. “But I hear you. I better go. See ya later.”
He jogs back over to the dugout as I make my way to my seat. Just before I reach row five, I chance a quick look at the women who made the earlier commentabout Brady. Their heads are close as they talk furiously, I assume about me talking to Cal.
My suspicions are proven correct as soon as they spy me looking and pull apart. I move into my seat and sit down, smirking to myself. Then a finger with a long pink fingernail on the end taps my shoulder.
“Excuse me, but like, are you and Cal Prescott related?”
I twist in my seat. “Not at all. Why would you think that?”
She shrugs and gives me a cool smile. “You kinda look alike, and he just talked to you.”
I nod slowly. Cal and I look nothing alike. “Right. So that means we’re related?” I rub my stomach. “What if I’m carrying his baby instead?”
The woman scoffs, turning to her friend and rolling her eyes. “Yeah, right. Cal would never. My friend Courtney dated him for a while and he was adamant about never having kids. Nice try.”
I give her a neutral smile of my own. “Well, you got me. It’s not his baby. Cal and I are just friends.” I turn back to face the field, and a few seconds later, Fiona slides into her seat.
“What did I miss?” she asks cheerfully, handing me a hot dog.
Lowering my voice, I tell her, “Apparently, Cal Prescott and I look enough alike that we could be related.”
She chokes on her drink, and I break into giggles that I don’t even bother trying to contain.
“I’ll explain later.”
Another inning passes with the game now tied, and then Brady’s jogging out from the bullpen to trade off with Foxxy, who heads for the dugout.
“That’s your daddy,” I whisper under my breath, rubbing my belly. He doesn’t look our way, but that’s fine. I would never want to steal his focus away from the game.
When he strikes out the first batter with just three pitches, I stand up and clap and cheer with the rest of the hometown crowd. That’s when he glances our way and grins, giving me a quick nod of acknowledgment.
The rest of the game passes quickly. Brady doesn’t let a single opponent get a run in, striking out player after player. And with Cal scoring a run in the ninth inning, the Thunder take the win.
Fiona and I stay in our seats once the game ends, letting everyone leave before we even bother trying to get down to the field. But once the crowd thins out, I see the two women from behind us standing at the low wall, laughing at someone on the other side of the netting.
“Are you freaking kidding me?” I mutter, my mood instantly souring when I realize it’s Brady,my Brady, they’re talking to. These women might not know what he means to me, but they’re about to find out.
I stomp down the stairs, Fiona fast on my heels, my gaze locked in on Brady. That’s how I see the second he realizes I’m close. The closed off, awkward expression on his face melts into a real smile as his eyes light up.
“Excuse me, but I gotta go see my girl. Thanks for coming to the game.”
I reach the bottom just in time to hear his dismissalof them—and his claiming of me—as he moves to the side and unlocks the gate. He steps through, completely ignoring the other women, and walks right up to me, cupping my face in his hands and kissing me softly. “Hey, little mama. How are you doing?”
Any sort of snarky comment I was going to make to the other women is immediately forgotten about as I melt into his arms.
“I’m fine. Good job winning,” I say, smiling up at him just before he leans down and kisses my forehead.
“What were you saying about not going fully public?” Fiona says dryly from behind me. I turn in Brady’s arms to face her, the other women long gone now.
“I said I didn’t know how Brady felt about it. Now I do.”
I feel his chuckle vibrate through my back. “I’d put it up on the big screen if I thought I could.” His lips press against my hair. “I’m not keeping you a secret, Hurricane.”
“Did you tell those women that?” I ask pertly, starting to turn around, only to have him stop me.
“What women? No. That doesn’t matter. Wait. Why the hell are you still wearing that jersey?”
I push at his hold and turn fully to face him. “What do you mean? This is the one you gave me.”
