The Other Game: A Dean Carter Novel (The Perfect Game #4) Read Free Page A

sharing an amused glance, and I didn’t like the idea of them having some sort of inside joke.
    “You need me to work some of that aggression out of you?” Jack offered with his typical smile that usually worked on all the ladies. Must be the stupid dimples.
    “I’d rather eat dirt,” Cassie mumbled, her mouth filled with food.
    This time I did laugh. The girl was funny as hell.
    Jack chuckled. “I almost want to see that.”
    “You would. Go torture someone else,” she said before looking away.
    Not a bit fazed, he grinned and moved to sit in the empty seat next to her. “But I like torturing you.”
    “Uh, no!” she shouted before throwing her bag right where he was about to plop down.
    Jack stopped short and stood back up. “Why so angry, Kitten?”
    “Why so annoying, jackass?” she said, mimicking his tone, and I shot Melissa an amused smile.
    Jack bent over to bring his face close to hers. “You’ll come around; you’ll see. You can’t resist me forever.”
    Cassie inhaled before she choked a little, and swallowed hard as Jack walked away, smiling.
    “Sorry about my brother.” I forced a smile as I defended Jack. I liked Cassie, and could tell he liked her too. “He isn’t really a jerk.”
    “He just plays one on TV?” Cassie said before coughing into a napkin.
    “Something like that. Don’t take him too seriously. He’s just having fun with you.”
    She half smiled. “ I’m not having fun.”
    “But you are. And he knows it,” I added, knowing damn well that a girl like Cassie enjoyed the verbal jousting match she seemed to have with Jack every time they spoke.
    Jack walked back over to our table and shoved a napkin into Cassie’s hand without saying a word. I watched him walk back to his table, wondering what the hell he’d just given her when she crumpled it up and tossed it into her bag.
    “What was that?” Melissa asked.
    Cassie swallowed hard. “His phone number, I think. I didn’t really look at it.”
    “H-he gave you his number?”
    Shock rolled through me. My brother didn’t give his phone number to any girl. Ever.
    “I think. Maybe I’m wrong. I’ll look at it later.” Cassie’s cheeks turned pink, and I frowned.
    Melissa turned to me, her brows drawn together. “What’s with the face?”
    “He doesn’t give out his phone number. There’s no point with him.” I moved my gaze from Cassie to Jack’s table as I tried to read his mind.
    “He has a cell phone, right?” Melissa asked.
    “Yeah?” I squinted at her, not seeing her point.
    She rolled her eyes. “I’m just saying, caller ID.”
    I shook my head. “His number is private. It doesn’t show up.”
    ”Really? Who does that?”
    “Someone who had to change his phone number fifteen times in high school because it never stopped ringing.” When both girls looked at me with amazement, I added, “Or pinging with text messages.”
    I thought back to those high school years when girls posted his phone number on all the social media sites, or included him in group text messages so everyone else in the group could get his number. Whenever Jack’s number got out, he not only got calls from the girls at our own school, his phone blew up from girls all over.
    Jack had been the subject of more than one national article on baseball and its future rising stars. He wasn’t only well known in our hometown; he was well known in the entire baseball community. And apparently the cleat chasers, aka baseball groupies, started early.
    “ Fifteen times ?” Cassie said loudly, and everyone around our table turned to stare at us.
    I shrugged. “It might have been more, but it was insane. Girls would post his number online, and his voice mail would fill up within a day. And then they’d all start calling my phone, looking for him when he didn’t answer.”
    What I didn’t tell them was that I had to eventually change my number as well for the same reason. Not that those girls wanted to talk to me, but when you