and muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “chubby chaser.” Cappy let go of Cade, giving him a pat on the shoulder before returning to his post in the corner.
The other guys, who’d been strangely quiet during the whole scuffle, resumed their usual midgame chatter. Cade took a seat at the far end of the bench, away from his teammates, wondering what the hell had just happened.
He wasn’t a violent guy, typically. Laid-back and easygoing, that was Cade Hardesty. The guy least likely to lose his temper.
So why had he lost it on O’Brien?
Okay, the jerk-wad had insulted Ivy. Called her fat. It wasn’t anything Cade hadn’t heard a million times from the kids in school. They even had some dumb-ass, humiliating nickname for her, something about Jabba the Hutt. But he hadn’t gone around threatening to beat the shit out of every kid who used it.
Of course, he’d been nothing but a stupid, self-centered kid himself back then. All he’d cared about was who he could con into doing his chemistry homework and which chick he was going to take to Hotchkiss Point on a Friday night. He’d like to think he was past that now. Maybe that’s why he’d leaped to Ivy’s defense at last.
Cade watched as O’Brien swung and missed. Strike two. Not surprising. The guy must be blind if he thought Ivy was fat. Hadn’t he ever seen Jennifer Lopez? Or Kim Kardashian? There was a big difference between overweight and curvy. And Ivy most definitely fell into the curvy category.
He leaned his head against the dugout wall and closed his eyes, remembering how those soft curves had felt molded against him from chest to thigh. She was all sun-kissed, satiny skin. And that kiss...damn. He’d been hard from the minute her mouth met his.
“Wake up, man.” A hand jostled his shoulder. “O’Brien grounded out. We’re in the field.”
Cade jammed his cap on his head, grabbed his glove and trotted out to third base. Once he was in position, he risked a glance at the stands. Even in a crowd, Ivy was a cinch to spot. She’d positioned herself front and center in the first row. Her ponytail bobbed wildly as she nodded her head to the beat of the Springsteen song playing over the PA.
She looked up as the song ended. They might be sixty feet apart, but that didn’t stop Cade’s insides from somersaulting when her eyes met his. The unfamiliar emotion was like an itch he couldn’t scratch.
“Heads up, Hardesty.”
Cade pivoted toward the voice, silently thanking the powers that be for the interruption. The shortstop tossed him the ball, and Cade wheeled and threw it home, completing the circuit.
“Looking good, baby.” Sasha stood in her seat and waved so enthusiastically her bought-and-paid-for boobs almost bounced out of her practically nonexistent top.
“Yeah, baby,” O’Brien mocked from across the diamond, pursing his lips and making goo-goo eyes at Cade. “Looking good.”
Cade scuffed at the dirt around third base with the toe of his cleat. They were down by three in the fourth. He had one woman he couldn’t handle and another he’d like to but damn well shouldn’t. And that no-necked goon O’Brien seemed hell-bent on pissing him off.
It was going to be a long freaking night.
“NICE GAME,” CADE repeated through gritted teeth as he went down the line of police officers, shaking hands. Christ, he hated losing. Especially when it was his own damn fault.
“Better luck next year.” The last cop in line squeezed Cade’s hand a little too hard, his smile a little too broad.
“Bite me.” Cade squeezed right back, engaging his long-time friend and one-time roommate Trey Brannigan in a familiar battle of wills.
“No, thanks.” Trey grimaced but held on. “But I will bite into at least four slices of Valentino’s meat-lovers special, courtesy of the SFD.”
“Keep it up and it may just be your last meal.”
Cappy came up behind Cade and clapped his shoulder. “Play nice, boys.”
“We were just messing around, Cap.” Cade dropped Trey’s hand.
His buddy smirked at him, barely suppressing a laugh, and mouthed, I win.
“Well, quit messing around.” Cappy thrust an equipment bag at Cade and gestured to the balls, bats and gloves strewn on the ground around home plate and near the dugouts. “You struck out three times tonight, more than anyone else on the team. That means you get to pick up the gear. And don’t forget the bases.”
Cappy strode off, and Cade turned back to his friend. “Looks like I’m gonna be a while. Save me a seat at Valentino’s.”
“Don’t you mean three?” Trey looked over Cade’s shoulder.
Cade followed Trey’s gaze and saw Sasha and Ivy bearing down on him from opposite directions. “Shit. Can you run interference for me?”
“Which one do you want me to waylay?” Trey snickered. “The blonde or the redhead?”
“The blonde. Keep her busy while Ivy and I grab the equipment and run.”
“Ivy?” Trey squinted at her. “Damn. Is that Jabba the Mutt?”
There was that stupid nickname again. Cade clenched his fists at his sides. “Don’t call her that.”
“Sorry, man.” Trey stepped back, holding his hands up, palms out, in a show of surrender. “I didn’t realize things were like that.”
Cade frowned. “Like what?”
“When a guy rushes to his woman’s defense, he’s hooked. Not that I blame you. If I’d known she was gonna turn out this hot, I would’ve paid more attention to her in high school.”
“I don’t have time to argue with you.” Cade’s eyes pinged from Ivy to Sasha. Both women were gunning for him like a couple of F-14 fighter jets. He turned to Trey, just shy of begging. “Will you get Sasha off my back or not?”
“Damn. You’ve got Jabba the...”
Cade gave his friend a murderous look, stopping Trey in midsentence before he corrected himself.
“...Ivy and the Gibson’s girl after you?” Trey whistled. “Lucky stiff.”
Stiff didn’t even begin to describe how he’d feel after those two were through with him. And not in a good way. “Yes or no?”
“Fine.” Trey headed off to intercept Sasha, calling over his shoulder as he went, “You owe me one.”
Cade was tempted to respond that distracting Sasha wasn’t much of a hardship. After all, she was blonde and beautiful, with a killer rack and legs that went on for days. But she was also self-centered and not too bright. And at a certain point in a guy’s life, the pretty package wasn’t enough to outweigh the personality flaws.
He was definitely at that point. He wasn’t so sure about Trey.
“Geez, you weren’t kidding about your ex,” Ivy said as she approached him. “That girl can’t take a hint to save her life.”
Cade took her elbow and ushered her toward home plate. “You can tell me all about it later. Right now we’ve got to pick up this gear and get out of here before Sasha figures out Trey’s blowing smoke up her ass.”
“Trey Brannigan, from high school?”
Ivy seemed to shrink before his eyes. He tried to ignore the lump of guilt in his stomach. He’d been her friend back then, but when push came to shove he was no better than the assholes who’d ridiculed her. Like Trey.
Fortunately, most people grew out of that bullshit. For the most part Trey had,