All Wound Up
Page 39She was impressed.
Her dad was right. He looked good, at least during warm-ups. The true test would be when he faced batters.
When the game began, she leaned forward, glad she was here. Not only did she need to occupy her mind with something other than the anxiety and sadness from her job the night before; she was also interested in watching Tucker pitch.
Or maybe just watching Tucker, period. She was used to seeing him in street clothes, as just a regular guy. There, on the mound, he commanded attention, all focus on him as he studied the first batter who’d come to the plate.
Tucker held the ball, his hand behind his back as he got the signal from Sanchez, the catcher. He nodded, then turned to his side, winding up for the pitch.
His form was nearly perfect as he threw the ball, which landed in the sweet spot over the plate.
The umpire called a strike, and the crowd cheered.
She looked over at her dad. “Nice curveball.”
Her father nodded. “Indeed. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”
He threw another pitch, very similar to the first. It hit the strike zone and the batter didn’t even swing.
“He’s got great hands,” her father said. “Great control of his balls.”
Aubry blinked and felt her face grow warm.
Of course her father was discussing Tucker’s pitches. But come on. Great hands? Control of his balls? That had her mind careening off in directions that had nothing to do with Tucker’s actions on the mound, and everything to do with what he could do with his hands and his balls in the bedroom.
Still, Tucker looked so freaking hot on that pitching mound, and she couldn’t help the hot flashes. It was just embarrassing to have them around her father.
She liked Tucker’s stance, and he was just so sexy, the way he studied the batters, his gaze so intense through his black glasses. She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him look so fine.
Of course, it could also be that she’d seen him naked, so she knew the perfection underneath that uniform. Not that she was fantasizing about him in any way at all. Except in every way possible.
Time to stop thinking of Tucker and sex and focus on baseball.
When he struck out the batter, she stood and clapped along with everyone else in the owner’s box, effectively snapping her out of her fantasies and back into the game. Now she made herself zero in on his pitches.
The next ball was a strike—again. So impressive. It was the way he threw the ball that mesmerized her, the mechanics of it all, the way the ball seemed to arc so high, then unexpectedly drop just as it reached the plate.
Several of the batters swung and missed, or grounded out. He gave up a single in the second inning, but no runs. In the first three innings, no one on the opposing team scored.
Awesome.
Throughout the game, Tucker mixed up his pitches, of which he had several, but his curve was a beautiful thing. By the top of the eighth inning, the Rivers were up by one run. It had definitely been a pitcher’s battle, which had made it fun to watch, but also nerve-wracking.
Aubry found herself leaning forward, breath held, every time Tucker threw a pitch, waiting for it to land in the right spot. And, fortunately, most of the time it did. When someone got a hit, they didn’t advance beyond first base. He was good tonight, and so was the team defense. Offense needed to get on it so they could all breathe a little easier, which hadn’t happened just yet.
Until Gavin Riley hit a shot into right field for a double, and then Trevor Scott doubled him home, giving them a one-run cushion going into the top of the ninth.
Tucker didn’t pitch the ninth. They brought in their ace closer, who threw couldn’t-hit-them fastballs. It was a fast, three-out inning, and the Rivers won the game.
“I’m glad you came. You brought us luck.”
She laughed. “Based on what I saw tonight, Dad, luck had nothing to do with it.”
“Would you like to stop by the house?” her father asked.
“No, I really need to go home. But I’ll come over on my next night off. Say hi to Mom for me.”
“She’ll be sorry she missed you.”
She hugged and kissed her dad, then left. When she got to her car, she sent a text message to Tucker.
Great game. You pitched well. I enjoyed watching you. Call me later.
By the time she walked in her front door, her phone rang.
“I thought maybe you’d wait for me,” Tucker said.
She laughed. “I don’t think so.”
“Don’t want everyone on the team to know you and I are seeing each other?”
“Absolutely not.”
Her lips curved at that thought. “For now? Yes.”
“I can live with that. Are you home?”
“Just got here. How about you?”
“Finished interviews, but I’m still at the ballpark.”
She knew better than to do this, but she wanted the company. “You could come over, if you’d like. I know you’re probably hungry. I could fix you something.”
“You don’t have to do that. Do you work tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t want to keep you up late. I can grab something on the way over, that way you don’t have to cook. Are you hungry?”
“No. The suite had plenty of food.”