Baseball and Other Lessons (Devil's Ranch Book 2) (2 page)

“I, uh, feel a migraine coming on. Chase is going to take me home. I’ll see you later.”

“Migraine, huh?” Jenn teased.

Jo’s blush deepened, but Jenn could tell she was trying not to smile. “Yeah. A migraine.”

Jenn laughed and hugged her best friend. “Well, I hope you find a way to get rid of it.”

Jo did laugh then, before turning and walking away. Jenn contemplated the sugar crystals on the rim of her glass as a smile tugged at her lips.

She’d so been right about those fireworks tonight.

#

Matt watched the exchange between Jo and Jenn, vaguely aware of the three women surrounding him. He’d never been a huge fan of jersey chasers to begin with, but having them surround him in his hometown while he was on the disabled list seemed like a little too much even for him to take right now. Jo shook her head at something Jenn said, and Matt noted the tousled hair, swollen lips and beard burn on her neck.

Looked like little brother was finally going to score.

At least someone was.

Disgusted with his self-pitying thoughts, because, really, he was one of the best pitchers in the league with a healthy bank account, wise investments and women at his beck and call if he wanted them, Matt breathed deeply and tuned back in to the jersey chasers currently trying to score with him.

Yeah, that wasn’t happening.

Even if he’d been interested, the doctor had specifically told him no sex. Apparently repetitive motions and strenuous activities could still cause complications with the damned head wound.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

“So, Mattie, how ‘bout we go back to my place?” The brunette—Kara or Katie or Karma—asked with a pout as she trailed an index finger over his left bicep. “We could play pitcher and catcher, if you know what I mean.”

Jesus. Talk about a bad pickup line. “Thanks but, uh, no thanks.”

“Oh, come on, Mattie. It’ll be fun. Jeanine could join us if you like.” The brunette batted her eyelashes at him. Matt couldn’t remember which one Jeanine was, nor did he really care.

“Sorry. But I can’t. Doctor’s orders.” He shrugged, adopted an innocent expression and hoped like hell it worked. Despite not liking jersey chasers, he only got tough on them when he had to.

Kara/Katie/Karma lifted up onto her toes and whispered in his ear, “I’ll let you do me any way you want, Mattie. My pussy’s dripping wet and aching for that cock of yours.”

She nipped his ear lobe before lowering herself to her normal height, bit her lower lip and looked up at him with big blue eyes. Matt sighed. Time to play hardball, apparently.

Normally, he would have someone with him he could pawn the girls off on—whether it be Darrin, a teammate, or a friend who was more than willing to take one for the team. Tonight, though, he had Owen—a guy who would be more likely to crack a joke than show any interest in any of the three women—and Jenn, who he was pretty sure would outright refuse to help him, especially after what had happened the last time she’d assisted in a Jersey Chaser Extraction.

Feeling somewhat hopeful, despite the feeling in his gut, he caught Jenn’s gaze, mouthed, “Help me” and hoped like hell she’d put that last Extraction behind her.

Chapter Two

Ten Years Earlier, Last Weekend of Spring Training, San Antonio, TX

Jenn walked into her
hotel room, threw her purse onto the bed and then followed with her body. Looking up at the ceiling, she sighed.

What good was it to be in San Antonio on a perfect spring night with no friends around?

Outside her window, she could hear the faint sounds of voices and traffic, a mariachi band playing somewhere down the street. Even after sitting in the AlamoDome for four hours, cheering on the Wranglers in their next to last spring training game against the Astros, she wasn’t tired. Instead, she was keyed up and restless.

She bounced up off the bed and grabbed her purse. Screw it. She was in San Antonio on a Friday night, she was sure as hell going to have a prickly pear margarita and maybe take a stroll along the Riverwalk.

Jenn took the elevator down to the hotel’s lobby and made a beeline for the bar, the sound of voices and laughter—along with the scent of Mexican food—luring her. She stepped inside and made her way to the bar, where she waited for a bartender.

“Hey there, pretty lady. Buy you a drink?”

Jenn rolled her eyes and turned towards the low, masculine voice just behind her right shoulder. “No, thanks, I’m—holy crap, Matt?”

Matt smiled, his hazel eyes teasing, and Jenn swatted him on his arm.

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be out celebrating the end of spring training with your groupies?”

He snorted. “We have one game left. Besides, groupies are overrated.”

She raised an eyebrow. “So you’re just chilling out in a hotel bar?”

Matt shrugged. “It’s the team hotel. Figured you would have known that. Is Chase or Mom and Dad with you?”

“Unfortunately, no. Your dad came down with the flu, so your mom’s taking care of him, and Chase had some last minute thing come up at work, so it’s just me.”

Disappointment briefly clouded his expression before the smile once again lifted the corners of his mouth. Despite the fact that Jenn had known Matt practically all her life, and as a kid had occasionally thought of him as a bothersome older brother, she wasn’t blind. The man was freaking hot.

Unfortunately, her body was sometimes all too aware of that. Like now. She was warm all over and her skin was kind of tingly, like she’d already had a few of the coveted prickly pear margaritas.

Down, girl
.

Matt Roberts, Rookie of the Year runner up, was so not for her.

“You want to join us over at our table? That is, unless you have other plans.”

“Sure, just let me order a drink.”

“Prickly pear margarita?”

How’d he know that?

As if he read her thoughts, he said, “It’s what you’ve ordered every time you’ve been here since you’ve been legal.”

True. For the past few years, Jenn, Chase, and Matt had met up in San Antonio a handful of times during the off season, and when Jenn had turned twenty-one just over a year ago she’d started ordering them.

“Fine. You know me better than I thought you did.”

He winked at her and signaled for the bartender, who almost ran over to them. Jenn sighed. Apparently being semi-famous had its perks. Matt ordered her drink, along with a bottle of Shiner for himself. They stood in companionable silence for the very short amount of time it took the bartender to bring them their drinks.

Matt handed the bartender a twenty and said, “Keep the change” before grabbing their drinks in one big hand and placing his other on the small of her back. Jenn’s skin only tingled more at the slight touch.
What in the world is going on?

Despite the fact that she and Matt had known each other practically all their lives, he’d never really touched her, unless it was to pull her hair, pinch her or tickle her. There had been a few hugs here and there, a peck on the cheek when she and Chase had graduated from high school, but that was about it.

Maybe he’s just being nice.

Or maybe he’s already drunk.

But he didn’t look drunk. In fact, he appeared to be stone cold sober.

The pressure on her lower back increased as they reached a table in the far corner of the hotel’s bar. She could see why he and some of the other players had chosen it—the space was slightly blocked off by potted palm trees that were as tall as she was, offering a modicum of privacy from the rest of the bar.

“Hey, guys, look who I found. My old friend, Jenn.”

Jenn raised an eyebrow but didn’t contradict him, curious to see what kind of game Matt was playing at tonight. She recognized the men at the table, and tried her best not to act like a baseball groupie despite the fact that her inner fan girl was practically
squeeing
with glee.

The three other men at the table introduced themselves as Matt pulled out a chair for her before sitting down beside her. “It’s nice to meet y’all. Great game tonight.”

Despite the fact that they’d beat the Astros 11-1, the four men all laughed before the shortstop, Andrew Holt, said in his thick Georgia drawl, “Honey that was a spring training beat down. It was like playing in little league.”

She snorted, and the catcher, Miguel Rodrigo, elbowed Andrew in the ribs. “Dude, you’re not supposed to talk about it like that; it takes away the magic.”

Andrew tipped back his Lone Star and smiled around the long neck of his beer bottle, “Might be rude, but it’s true.”

Miguel rolled his eyes.

“So, Jenn, how do you and Pooh Bear here know each other?” Rick Graves, one of the bullpen guys, asked.

She glanced at Matt. “Pooh Bear?”

Matt snorted but didn’t answer.

“Sure, Pooh Bear. It never fails, wherever we are the women just flock to him. Like Winnie the Pooh to his pot of honey.”

Jenn opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again and said, “That might be the worst analogy ever.”

“Oh, come on, it’s not that bad,” Rick said.

She shook her head. “No, it’s pretty bad. If you were one of my students I would tell you to try harder and give you a B for effort.”

Matt laughed. “I forgot to mention that Jenn’s a teacher. Seventh grade, right?”

She nodded, surprised Matt knew what she did, much less which grade she taught.

“School teacher, huh?” Rick’s gaze flicked over to Matt. “That’s a little far off of your usual type, Pooh Bear.”

“Oh, it’s not like that. We’re just friends. Matt’s practically like a big brother to me.”

Rick raised an eyebrow and scratched at his beard. “Well, if that’s the case, Miss Jenn, why don’t you come sit over here by me and I can show you how a real man treats a lady?”

Matt tensed slightly beside her and she briefly wondered why before laughing and saying, “Rick, I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’m really you’re type.”

The young pitcher sighed. “I guess you win some, you lose some.”

Jenn rubbed her nose. “Absolutely.”

Rick brightened again and asked, “Any chance you have a sister?”

Jenn laughed before taking a sip of her margarita. “I do, but I think she might be a little too young for you.”

“How young is too young?” Rick asked.

“Five.”

Rick cringed. “Ouch, yeah, way too young.”

#

Why Jenn was throwing off Rick’s obvious advances? Even if the guy was a bit of a tool sometimes—Pooh Bear? Really?—women usually flocked to him like chickens on a bunch of June bugs. Whatever, though, he was weirdly glad Jenn wasn’t falling for Rick’s charm.

Between the fronds of the potted trees that sectioned off their table, he could see a group of women looking around the bar. There were five of them, all dressed in sky high heels and skintight clothes with big hair, pouty lips and breasts that defied gravity. He sighed, recognizing their ring leader, Heather Smith (if that was really her last name), immediately.

Heather had been a thorn in his side ever since he got called up. She showed up to every game, always seemed to know which hotel the team was staying in, and somehow had figured out a few times which room was his.

She was like a dog with a fucking bone, and he was
thisclose
to getting a restraining order. Enough was enough.

He knew the moment she found their partially hidden table, because her eyes lit up with a predatory gleam as she licked her lips before tossing her hair over her shoulder and heading their way. Matt leaned in to the table and quietly warned, “Incoming” before sliding his arm around the back of Jenn’s chair.

She stiffened beside him slightly before relaxing again, and an idea quickly formed in his mind. He had only a few seconds to spell it out to Jenn, and he prayed she would go along with it.

He leaned over and whispered in her ear, “There’s a group of five jersey chasers heading our way. Their ring-leader—Heather Smith——has been stalking me for a year. Can you follow my lead so that maybe we can get them to go away?”

Jenn hesitated and he asked, “Please? For a friend?”

She turned her head towards him and nodded. “Sure. What’s a jersey chaser?”

“You’ll figure it out once you see them.”

The group of women reached their corner, and Heather propped her hip on the edge of the table in a pose he figured she thought was seductive. To him, it just seemed desperate. Completely clueless, the blonde stalker leaned over and ran an index finger up and down his chest before purring, “Hey, Matt. Great game tonight.”

He swatted her hand away. “I didn’t pitch.”

She leaned in further, giving him a clear view down her shirt, and most likely giving Rick a clear view up her very short denim skirt if the young man’s facial expression indicated what he thought it did.

Matt tightened his arm around Jenn’s shoulders, turned his head into her and kissed her neck. “Please, just follow my lead,” he whispered so that only she could hear him.