championship, and in this town, bragging rights mattered.
She stole a glance at the Muskrats in their bright yellow uniforms warming up on the other side of the diamond. The Otters wore red, which Ryan couldn’t help think might be part of their success. Red meant business. Yellow was…cute. She warmed up with Billy, making sure her arm was loose and chattering up the group for morale.
“Looking good, Billy.”
“Get at it,” he shouted back. She snagged the grounder and fired a missile back, landing it squarely in the pocket of his glove.
“Nice one,” he yelled and gave his hand a small shake from the force of her throw.
“You’re killing it, Brenda Anne. More like that,” Ryan shouted to their right fielder, as she easily caught a pop-up. “Go hard, Constance,” she called to the local veterinarian chasing down a wayward ball. “That’s the way to hustle.” Ryan loved her team and reveled in anticipation as she headed to the dugout before the start of the game.
“You all set?” Powell Rogers, the used-car salesman, asked her. He served as both their coach and pitcher and wore his Otters ball cap perched extra high on his head, as always. She swallowed a smile because it just looked so tiny up there.
She did a couple jumps to loosen her calves and nodded. “Let’s give ’em a game.”
He tipped his hat and turned to the team who’d gathered in the dugout. As he went over the lineup, the Muskrats took the field first, the infield taking turns throwing to first base one at a time. Ryan focused on Powell, who had her down fourth in the lineup, batting cleanup, likely because she often hit the sweet spot with her line drives and managed doubles, triples, and the occasional inside-the-park homer.
“Remember—Muskrats aren’t Otters. You hear me?” Powell asked loudly. The group picked up their cue.
“Muskrats aren’t Otters!” the team chanted back in unison, their standard practice. “Muskrats aren’t Otters! Muskrats aren’t Otters! Down with the Muskrats. Otters win, win, win.” Their hands flew to the center and up again on that last part. Ryan rolled her shoulders just as the Muskrats’ third baseman beamed a ball to first in her peripheral vision. Whoa. She swiveled, blinked, impressed by the speed. Since when had Bruno, the wine guy from the Jade Resort, picked up that kind of skill? He’d always been an easy target, missing most of the balls sent his way and struggling to connect with first. No, this was someone new. She squinted at the much smaller third baseman. Definitely not Bruno. The dark ponytail coming out the back of the cap confirmed it. The player adjusted her cap, and Ryan paused midbreath. “What in hell?” she murmured.
“You seeing what I’m seeing?” Billy asked, his fingers through the chain link of the dugout’s fence as he watched the action on the field.
She turned to him in shock. “It looks like our client is a Muskrat.”
“And has fucking ferocious chops. Where was she at the season opener last week?” Billy asked, incredulous.
Ryan sighed. “I’m guessing she’s replaced that one guy who turned his ankle. They probably adjusted the field positions for her. Moved folks around.” Sure enough. There was Bruno out in center field, kicking grass.
Billy whistled low when Gabriella hopped straight into the air and caught an overthrown ball like a jackrabbit. “What the fuck? Did you see that?” He pointed for emphasis. “I mean, did you see that?”
Ryan sighed audibly. Internally, it got her the hell going. “Lucky us.”
“This could be bad.”
“Don’t you worry at all.” She scoffed, “They’re the Muskrats. They lose. It’s ordained.” Ryan shook off any intimidation. Couldn’t let the other team get in her head. What was harder to banish? How amazingly hot Gabriella Russo looked in a softball uniform, all focused, making crazy catches like a badass. The pants alone looked made for her. It was perplexing. This game day version of Gabriella was nothing at all like her everyday persona, which was decidedly softer. She glanced in the stands and, sure enough, saw Joey Wilder and her girlfriend along with Madison LeGrange. They were making strange little mouse faces at Gabriella, who laughed and made one right back. What the hell? Too late. The game was on.
Two batters scored hits and made it onto base. Great start.
Ryan grabbed a bat and stretched with it before stepping into the on-deck circle and taking a few warm-up swings. Moments later, she was up to bat with two runners on at