The Best Mistake - Cookie O'Gorman Page 0,41

ate it up, show-boated a bit, blowing the entire audience a kiss, and I noticed he had his own little cheering section, who just happened to be sitting right behind us. It was mostly female.

One girl said, “Baseball has been so good to that family.”

“I know. Just look at that ass,” said another, and they both giggled.

As Baylor got into his stance, I felt June tense beside me, but she didn’t say anything.

He let the first pitch go by, a good thing since it was a ball.

“And those arms.” A third voice sighed as he got ready again. “Do you think they’d let me be a water girl for the team or something? I’d do just about anything for a shot with him.”

“I hear he’s not picky. My friend Marla was with him last year, and she’s not half as pretty as you. You’ve got a shot.”

“You think?”

At that point, Emmy turned around. “Excuse me, could you please shut up? I’m trying to watch the game here.”

The three girls stared back at her with thinly veiled disdain. Looking at them for the first time, I noticed they all had that sun-kissed look, hair down and flowing, a lot of makeup, but you wouldn’t know it unless you were really close to them like we were now. They had on t-shirts, too, but they all matched: royal blue with two white stripes on the sleeves and black letters on the front that said Baseball Babe.

“We weren’t even talking to you,” one of them said.

The sound of a bat connecting was heard, and we all looked to the field. It was called foul at the last second, and Emmy turned to them once again.

“I know you weren’t talking to me, but I can still hear you,” Emmy said sweetly.

“Why don’t you just mind your own business?” said the one who I thought had wanted to be the water girl. It sounded like her voice.

“That’s my brother,” she said, tipping her chin in Baylor’s direction. “So he is my business. Stop talking about him like he’s a piece of meat, and we won’t have a problem.”

Wow, way to go, Emmy.

That certainly shut them up.

I’d be lying if I said their conversation didn’t make me feel bad about how I’d wanted to use Baylor to lose my V-card. But it hadn’t happened, thank goodness. Because I’d ended up in bed with Archer instead. A little shiver went through me as he took another practice swing.

A second later, Baylor got a hit to deep left field, bringing both Dex and the other runner in and landing himself on third. Just like that, it was 2-0. The crowd cheered; Emmy and June fist-bumped, and then it was Archer’s turn.

The other team’s pitcher looked like he was trying to shake off that last play as Archer approached the plate. I knew I was biased. But there was something in the way Archer moved that set him apart. He was all loose grace and confidence as he assumed his batter’s stance. There was nothing questioning, no hesitancy.

The first pitch he watched go by.

Strike one.

The second pitch, same thing.

Strike two.

“What’s he waiting for?” I asked, getting nervous.

“His pitch,” June said.

“Yeah,” Emmy agreed as Archer stepped out of the box. “The ump isn’t calling them, but those pitches were high. Archer’s patient. He’s really good about waiting.”

That gave me pause, made me realize I knew that about him already—even in the short time we’d shared together, he’d been nothing but patient with me. But then why had he given up so quickly on dating me if he was so good at waiting?—but as Archer got back into position, I found myself holding my breath.

It happened on the third pitch.

The pitcher released the ball, and Archer finally swung. His bat connected, and a crack rent the air as the ball sailed into left field, back and back, until finally it left the field altogether. The Wolves fans jumped to their feet, and I was right there with them. Homerun! At his first at bat. That had been freaking spectacular.

“Holy crap,” I said as Archer rounded the bases, and Baylor whooped as he ran home to score another run. “That was amazing!”

Emmy smiled. “First game of the season,” she said as if it explained everything.

A sneaking suspicion hit me.

“What do you mean by that?” I asked.

“Oh nothing, it was just something our parents ingrained in us.” She shrugged. “Start strong. Finish stronger. I meant they haven’t lost the first game of the