Free Third Base (The Boys of Summer Book 1) by Heidi McLaughlin Page A

process.
    “Fuck me,” I say as I turn away and adjust myself. I don’t know where the BoRe Blogger is now, but I hope he isn’t counting how many times I’m adjusting myself because I have a feeling I’ll be fixing my cup all night.
    Branch Singleton, our designated hitter, is finishing up when I get there. I use the extra minutes to put my batting gloves on and take a couple of practice swings.
    “Hold the bat, Davenport.” Cal Diamond is walking toward me and all I can think is that I’m not starting because of what I just did with Daisy, even though it’s nothing different than what any of the other guys have done. “Bainbridge had something come up and I need you to take his place at the Rotary dinner Thursday night.”
    Thursday is Daisy’s birthday.
    “I have plans,” I blurt out.
    Diamond stands firm with his hands on his hips, glaring at me. He glares at everyone. He’s the manager, it’s allowed. “Yes, you do... at the Rotary dinner. You were requested after Bainbridge so get your tux out, get it pressed and show up for dinner with a speech.”
    I look over at Daisy; she’s too far away for me truly see what she’s doing, but I feel her eyes on me. “Can I bring a date?”
    “As long as she’s not a hooker.” He slaps me on the arm and laughs as he walks toward the dugout.
    Well shit, this is great. I had plans to do something with Daisy and can only hope she’ll agree to go with me. If not, I’ll have to meet her after, if she’d even feel like going out later. My good mood is now soured by a baseball commitment. I shouldn’t be surprised. It’s how things go around here. Even our off days are baseball days. And organizations plan events around our calendar so we can attend. They use our names and the fact that we’re appearing as a way to sell tickets. We could essentially send one of the guys down the totem pole of the forty-man roster, but people aren’t paying to meet him. They pay to meet players like me.
    I step up to the plate and wait. Each swing is powerful and balls are flying out of the park, much to the fans pleasure. I usually hit like shit when I’m angry. Maybe this is a sign that I’m not pissed off, but looking forward to a night with Daisy – who, mind you, would have to be dressed up. The thought of Daisy in a dress sends me into overdrive.
    If I can continue to think about her in a dress, and maybe with that dressed hiked up over her hips as she lies on my bed after the party, I may bat for the cycle tonight... or hit three homeruns. That would be something considering I’ve yet to do that in my major league career.

 
    D espite my stellar batting performance we only won by one run. That win puts us at thirteen and ten – not anywhere near where I thought we’d be this early in the season. Athletes go into their new season with expectations. GM Stone made some solid off-season trades and drafted well. On paper, we should be number one. However, the standings do not show that. I can’t let the rankings get to me though. I have a job to do.
    Tonight, Daisy is meeting me in front of the fan store across the street from the stadium. It’s a good thing she texted that suggestion to me because I forgot to send an usher to get her. That’s probably why she’s across the street – all because I forgot. This time when I go to meet her, my hair is dry and I’m dressed for the weather, although it’s fairly calm out. My jeans hang off my waist and my crisp black button down sits perfectly. I left my jacket in my car, not that I need it right now. I’m hoping for a walk along the harbor where she’ll need me to keep her warm.
    As I step out of the stadium, a few fans approach me and ask for my autograph. I sign their memorabilia and pose for a quick picture before I excuse myself. The store is busy and mostly everyone is dressed the same. Being tall has its advantages, and this is one of them...I’m able to scan the crowd for the one person I want to see. I