Page 58 of Bad Call
I held my breath in my chest as he slid the door open slowly. The mama hadn’t moved because she’d already given birth. I shined my light and saw eight pairs of tiny eyes glowing back at me. She had four babies nursing on her belly.
“Where’s the dad?”
“Who the hell knows?” He slid the pan on top of the drawer before sliding it out of the oven completely. “Turn the light on and open the back door for me.” I rushed to my feet, hitting the light switch before throwing his door wide. “Come on, mama,” he cooed. “Time to find you a new home outside.”
I realized his backyard was a construction site. Pieces of spare wood were stacked in a pile next to his barbecue grill. Buckets of paint and an extension ladder lined the left fence. This was where he worked, where he created all those beautiful libraries he donated.
“Grab the tarp over there for me.” It was blotched with paint. I grabbed it and followed him to the back of the yard. He set the warming drawer down by the oak tree and took the tarp from me, spreading it in a nest-like shape. Then Casey slid the pan on the top of the warming drawer and carefully lifted out the mama. He laid her in the nest, followed by her babies. “Here you go, little lady. Here’re your babies.”
We stood side-by-side, my shoulder brushing against his, and shined our lights down on the nest, watching the babies nurse. “You think they’ll be okay out here?” he asked me.
Like I knew shit about raccoons. “Sure. This is the perfect spot for them.”
“I better let Rawlings out. She’s probably scared shitless.”
That did it. That was the moment I knew I was head over heels for Casey Collins. He didn’t care about the mess in his house. He cared about the safety of a mama raccoon who had just given birth. He cared about his dog being afraid. Last night he treated me to a slushy, not because he had a sweet tooth, but because he cared about my feelings. He had the biggest, kindest heart. He spent his precious few free hours making mini libraries to donate to the community. There was no question Casey was a good man. And there was no question about the way he made me feel inside. The way he turned and twisted my guts into a blissful mess. I couldn’t stop thinking about this man.
He consumed my thoughts. He ruled my body’s responses. He fucking owned me.
Swallowing all of that back down from wherever it came from, I took a deep breath to calm myself. “Do you need a hand cleaning up inside?”
Casey smiled gratefully. “That would be great. It’s already late. Have you eaten?”
“Yeah, have you?”
“Yeah. Do you, uh, do you want to stay over?” He stammered over his words shyly.
Fuck yes!“Only if your dog apologizes to me.”
Casey chuckled, sounding super sexy. “She shouldn’t have to apologize for being a Mariners fan.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CASEY
It wasthe last game of the season. But for once, I wasn’t downing antacids like candy. We had a small lead on the second-place team, so even if we lost, we were still in the lead. Our season was in the bag. We were heading to the World Series. And even if we lost that, my career was secured for another year at the very least.
I was finally able to stop worrying about losing and start thinking about winning.
Another thing I couldn’t stop thinking about? Baylor Buchanan. His season was over, so we were safe for the summer, but I wanted to come out about our relationship and take things to the next level. Whatever level that was. But I couldn’t do that without jeopardizing his job.
I glanced up into the stands, and my eyes locked on him immediately. Probably because he was the only one wearing a Padres jersey. The nerve of him! He gave me a small wave, and I tilted my head in his direction. ThankGod, he wasn’t calling this game, which meant we might actually have a chance of winning.
The Washington State Woodpeckers were down by four. They still had a chance, unless we could keep our tight lead. Austin ran through his warm-up routine, trading pitches with the catcher until the ump signaled they were out of time. Glancing over his shoulder, he checked his bases, wound his arm back, and let the ball fly across home plate.
The ump motioned for a strike.
His second and third pitches were balls, followed by a hit, but the runner was tagged out before he reached first base. The boys in the dugout cheered Austin.
“All right guys, settle down. I don’t want anything to shake him. He needs to stay focused.”
Austin looked at me, and I nodded, letting him know he was doing great. No matter how incredibly skilled he was, he always sought that boost of confidence from me. He did it with Marcus as well. It told me volumes about the kind of man he was. Submissive, needy, and eager to please. A lot like my Baylor.
Mine? Yeah, he was mine.
Except there were two striking differences between the two men. Where Austin was a ‘good boy,’ Baylor was a brat through and through.
“I think we’re gonna pull this game out of the bag,” Marley predicted, coming to stand beside me at the fence.