Page 17 of Off Limits: The Firsts

Words escape me as the tears slide freely down my cheeks, and my heart twists inside my chest. “Dad.” It’s all I can say through the onslaught of emotion I’m trying to hold back.

“We’ll talk soon. Clear mind, hard heart, Scouty. Remember that and you’ll be fine.”

But I won’t.

I’ll be far from it.

And that’s why I’m more determined than ever.

I nod my head and lift the neck of my beer in thanks to the knockout blonde across the bar who just sent it over.

“You need to jump all over that,” Tino says with a little hum of appreciation to follow.

I smile at her—doe-eyed, legs for days, with a skirt pulled up and a shirt plunging down—and fuck, I could use a good lay right now. “Nah,” I murmur, my mouth contradicting what my dick is agreeing to as I raise the bottle to my lips and look back to the guys at my table.

“Nah?” Drew sputters. “Since when do you say nah to a betty like that?”

Images flash through my mind. Challenging gray eyes. Muscular little body. Brown hair pulled up in a messy ponytail. A woman who isn’t trying hard at all and is still sexier than the blonde baseball betty trying to add a notch to her how many Austin Aces have I fucked tally she most likely displays prominently on her bedpost.

“She’s all yours, D. I’m sure she’d take you as a consolation,” I tease as J.P. barks out in laughter at the fuck-you look Drew is trying to kill me with.

“Second is better than third,” Drew replies with a direct dig at J.P., since he plays third base and Drew plays second.

“Fuck off.” J.P. laughs but flips us off.

“Gladly. But I want to know why East here is passing up parting her sweet thighs when he obviously needs to get good and laid,” Drew says with a lift of his chin to the blonde again.

“How do you know I need to get good and laid?”

“You’ve been on a permanent home stretch, which means your forearms are getting a workout, but not in the baseball sense.” He demonstrates making a jacking-off motion.

“Fuck off.” I roll my eyes.

“Dude, a homestretch like yours is enough to make anyone itch for some action, and since you can’t get any on the field, you might as well get some between the sheets,” Drew explains with perfect sense.

“Boredom makes your dick need action,” Tino affirms, and I can’t help but laugh at their fucked-up logic.

Fucked-up, but pretty damn accurate.

I catch Blondie’s eye again, consider her, but know any chick buying me beers in Sluggers, our team’s local hangout, is looking for more than a thank-you.

Could be fun.

“Ah, it all makes sense now.”

J.P.’s murmur pulls me from making a mistake that I suddenly want to make . . .

“It’s that fuck-hot trainer of yours that’s grabbing you by the balls, isn’t it?”

And knocks it out of the park, putting the image of Scout into my mind.

Not like it was very far to begin with.

“Nah,” I murmur. Hell if I’ll give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s right.

“Bullshit. Dude, I’d let her rub me down in a second. Add in some oil . . . and we could have our own slip and Drew-slide,” Drew chimes in.

“You’re fucked in the head,” I laugh.