Cleat Catcher (The Cleat Chaser Duet Book 2) Read Free Page A

him.
    “Keep it clean, boys. Let's play ball.” Pussy-ass umpires always ruined all the shit-talking fun.
    “Yes, sir.” I didn't sound sarcastic at all in my reply.
    I lifted my mask to wipe beads of sweat and dirt that quickly turned to some kind of mud concoction on my face.
    Easton stalked back up to the rubber, and I looked over at bitch boy's feet. The hitter crowded up on the plate with his front toe turned in.
    Ohh, bad mistake motherfucker.
    “Wouldn't crowd homeboy's plate. He ain't like it.” I flattened my right palm in the dirt and moved it back and forth, using the dry earth to soak up some of the sweat from my palm.
    “Fuck you, Braden. This is my plate.” He waved the bat back and forth at Easton.
    “You were warned.”
    Easton did appear menacing for such a big teddy bear. His glove was up, covering his face, and his hat was pulled down so that I could only see his eyes. But, I knew he was smiling up a shit storm under the glove when I called for the fastball inside.
    I rocked back to my heels and braced myself for it as he went into his motions. The big ox could throw hard as fuck.
    His arm was a whirlwind and the ball buzzed before exploding into my glove, right behind where the batter once stood. I looked over at him, lying in the dirt on his back.
    “Told ya.” I winked.
    The asshole jumped to his feet and kicked his big clown foot at the ground, roiling up a dirt cloud as he stared Easton down.
    “Make a move. I'm right here. Stay off my goddamn plate.” Easton held his glove up, signaling for me to get the ball back to him.
    I happily obliged. “I told his ass, E. He don't listen.”
    “That's a warning for all three of you. Keep it up, and your asses are gone.” The ump wagged a finger at me. It was kind of cute.
    “Yes, sir.” I grinned.
    Easton walked back up to the mound. I looked over to my man's legs wobbling like jello, foot pointed out to left field again.
    He's fucked.
    I called for the slider away, and big boy on the mound learned his lesson and nodded. He came set and threw the pitch. This one started down the middle and broke to the outside corner.
    The batter swung and got a tiny piece of the ball with the tip of the bat. The ball rolled into the grass about ten feet away and came to rest.
    “You knocked the shit out of that one.” I chuckled.
    “Fuck you. Stop talking to me.” He beat the end of the bat on his cleat as the crowd stood. Two strikes, two outs, game on the line. They were definitely amped up for the payoff pitch.
    “God, so sensitive. Fine.” I mocked him in a falsetto. It was all too easy to get into a hitter's head.
    The cheers of the crowd grew to a deafening roar as Easton took the bump, ready to finish this guy the fuck off.
    Don't hang that shit again, E. Hit your spots.
    The hitter dug in, and I called for the slider way out. Might as well make him look extra stupid on national TV for his wife and mother to see.
    When Easton started to deliver I kicked my leg out in true acrobat fashion and set up off the plate. The pitch was perfect. Cock boy never had a chance. It came in hard and broke away at the last second as he blew down every tree in the city trying to hit it. The ball slammed into my glove.
    “Haaah!” The umpire got into it, even though there was no need since the guy swung.
    Fuck it. Let him have his moment in the sun.
    I fist-pumped and turned to the hitter, holding up my glove to show him the ball. “Looking for this, pussyboy?” I laughed as I strolled out and bumped gloves with Easton. The rest of the team followed, and we all slapped fives and said congratulations. We were on a roll, and Easton had been unhittable ever since getting serious with the growing-in-popularity Kyrie Kent.
    With this win, we’d be on our way to the playoffs, and after that, anything was possible—the pennant, the World Series, maybe even the Gryffindor House Cup.
     

     
    “You were great, babe!” Nik's tits pressed against my chest while she