Homeruns: Wild Pitch Part 16

"What the h.e.l.l is a trifle? And why are you making one to take over to Sean's house?" He made his way around the center island to the fridge and started pulling out bags of lunchmeat and cheese to make a sandwich. It was a good thing he made piles of money, because it seemed like he was always eating.

I sighed heavily when he left the empty bags and crumbs all over the black granite. Once I didn't feel like a guest in his home we'd have to talk about the fact that there was no maid and I wasn't going to play Felix to his Oscar. I threw away the trash and wiped down the counter while he sat on one of the stools at the island watching me.

"You told me I was in charge of something to take with us," I explained to him. "I found that bowl in one of the cupboards and it inspired me. Have you ever even had a trifle?"

"Uh... no," he deadpanned. "It sounds like some sort of frou-frou c.r.a.p, and that's not my style."

"It's pudding, whipped cream, cake and berries. What part of that isn't you style?" I teased, throwing his words back at him. "The last I knew, anything edible was right up your alley, and if it's sweet, it was dangerous to keep around you."

"True, but still..." He pushed back from the counter and grabbed his t-s.h.i.+rt off the back of the couch. "These are the type of guys who thinks burgers and a cooler full of beer is high-cla.s.s."

"Sounds like a challenge. Someday, those boys are all going to find wives who aren't going to settle for bar or cookout food," I said, as though I was the foremost authority on being a sports wife. "They're going to expect highbrow dinner parties. Besides, there's no way in h.e.l.l I'm going to let this kitchen go to waste by making a pan of brownies."

"What's wrong with brownies? I'd kiss you if there was a pan of gooey, chocolatey goodness sitting here right now."

"Yet another reason," I told him. "First, you'd devour every last crumb which would annoy me because I'd have to make more, and then it'd get all awkward. You're like an annoying little brother sometimes. I don't need you shoving your tongue down my throat because I baked."

Drew barked out a laugh that echoed off the exposed beams of the ceiling. "You wis.h.!.+ We both know you're jealous because you'll never get a piece of this."

I finished arranging the last of the slices on top of the bowl and admired my handiwork. It wasn't anything fancy, at least not in my mind, but it felt good to create something I was proud of. Since graduation, I had barely made more than the simplest dinners because I was too stressed over where I was going to go when my lease ran out at the end of June.

"Whatever," I scoffed as I pushed past him. "I have to get ready. Don't touch the trifle or I may have to break a finger."

"Hars.h.!.+" Drew yelled as I walked up the stairs to my loft bedroom. "Just remember that we have to be out the door in fifteen minutes. No one is going to care if you have a few hairs out of place or if your outfit isn't perfect."

"No, but I'll care," I quipped. "And really, isn't it all about me?" I was joking and I knew Drew understood that. He'd always given me a hard time when we were younger because I couldn't go out in public if I wasn't at my best and he thought I wouldn't get picked on as much as I did if I wasn't so worried about my appearance.

Drew muttered something before his words were m.u.f.fled by the television. Sportsline again. I briefly wondered if the television received any other channels because it was always playing the all-sports channel. I didn't bother griping about it because I figured it was part of the job for him or something.

Had I known we'd be going anywhere, I would have packed differently. Most of my clothes were still neatly rolled in plastic totes out in the back of my Nissan Rogue. I'd start hauling them inside, but Drew would seriously flip s.h.i.+t if I told him I had to find the outfit I wanted to wear if he was going to drag me out in public. This was my only shot to make a decent first impression. In the end, I wound up choosing a light green gingham b.u.t.ton-down and khakis because they'd go with the black Vans I was growing tired of. I missed my shoes.

I missed all of my stuff and couldn't wait to have a chance to unpack. I'd planned on doing that tonight, but then this barbecue came up.

My heart started racing as Drew drove down the relatively quiet, suburban neighborhood where his friend Sean lived. I didn't know much, other than that he was a teammate and this party was not only because the guys had a few days off for the All-Star break, but also because it was his partner's birthday. I remembered hearing about the two of them when they were outed last season right about the time Drew joined the team. Between the fact that it was all over the news and Drew's hero-wors.h.i.+p of his newly out and proud teammate, Sean Tucker was nearly a household name to me.

Expensive cars, ranging from souped up imports to high-speed luxury models lined both sides of the street. This was more than the small, intimate gathering Drew had led me to believe it was going to be. The only thing I hated more than crowds were crowds of strangers who were may or may not be thrilled to have yet another gay guy in their midst. From what Drew'd told me, he was still in the closet but thought some of them had a clue because he never paid attention to the girls hanging all over him.

"Come on, it'll be fine," Drew a.s.sured me, as if the panic was written all over my face. It probably was, but he couldn't see the fear in my eyes because they were hidden behind a pair of trendy aviators. Yeah, I was more than just a bit obsessed with my accessories, but some days they were all I had to keep me sane. "The guys aren't going to give you a hard time. For one thing, Sean wouldn't invite anyone who had a problem with his family, and for another, they've had time to realize that the gay isn't some sort of communicable disease."

I laughed because Drew talked about bigots like it was a normal part of life. Maybe it was in his life, but not mine. I reached for my door handle, reminding myself that I had to trust Drew. After all, it wouldn't make much sense for him to be here if there were a bunch of narrow-minded p.r.i.c.ks.

I followed Drew through the garage, into Sean's house. It was more modest than I'd expect for a professional athlete, but I was quickly learning that even though my best friend was one of them, I had no clue about what athletes really lived like. So far, it seemed their biggest extravagance was in their transportation.

"Hey, you made it!" I turned to see who'd noticed us and was met by an absolutely beautiful man. He gave me a quick once-over but didn't say anything else. He'd have been intimidating, with his bulging muscles and the tattoo on his right arm, if not for the baby in his arms. No one could be scary while holding a smiling, happy kid.

"We did," Drew responded. "Mason Atley, this is my friend, Cam Thompson. Cam, this is Mason and the little guy is his son, Asher." The baby looked nothing like Mason, but I wasn't about to say that. He had brilliant blue eyes and a head of fine, almost white blond hair, compared to Mason's own dark complexion and hair.

"It's nice to meet you," I said, reaching out to shake his hand.

I nearly choked when Mason barely gave me a nod and turned to Drew. "Your friend? Is that what you're going with?" he challenged. "Because I've got to tell ya, Drew, even the dumbest of guys out there won't take one look at him and think there's a straight bone in his body."

I briefly wondered if I could turn and run without Drew chasing after me. It was a huge mistake for me to think I'd fit in here. Mason reached for my hand, drawing my attention back to him. "s.h.i.+t, kid, I didn't mean it like that. All I meant is that it's obvious you're out and proud and don't give a s.h.i.+t who knows it," he apologized quickly.

He was right. I'd been unapologetic about my s.e.xuality since the moment I came out, even when it did lead to me spending four miserable years in high school. h.e.l.l, I even had the t-s.h.i.+rt. I'd thought about wearing it tonight, but figured that wasn't the way to make a positive impression in these parts.

"Look, if you make Drew happy, that's all that matters," he promised me. "No one here gives a d.a.m.n who anyone else is sleeping with, as long as it's not flaunted in their faces. That sucks sometimes, but that's the way it goes."

"Oh, Drew and I aren't... no..." I tried protesting, but my head was spinning already. "Drew and I have been friends for a long time, but that's it."

"That's a d.a.m.n shame," Mason said, leaving something off the end of that statement. "Well, come on, everyone's outside."

"Oh, c.r.a.p! Drew, I need your keys. I forgot the trifle in the car." I held out my hand, grateful I had a legitimate reason to get out of there and regroup.

"What in the h.e.l.l is a trifle?" Mason laughed.

"He swears it's good," Drew told him. "And it looked awfully tasty. It's some sort of fancy cake and berries thing with pudding."

"h.e.l.l, I don't know where you found this one, but if that s.h.i.+t tastes half as good as it sounds, you'd better not hide him away." Mason gave me a quick wink and I calmed down a bit. The thought crossed my mind that he may have been compensating for coming off as an a.s.s earlier, but I didn't get the impression that he was anything but sincere now. "Go on, go get your trifle whatever and meet us out back. Most of the guys are out here, but a few are hanging in the living room."

I squared my shoulders as I walked out the door. Despite the rocky start, it seemed things were going okay. Maybe Drew was right and coming to live with him would give me something I've never truly felt in my life: a home.

As usual, I was running late. There was no good reason for it, other than my own laziness. It felt good to kick back on my own couch for a few hours to work on clearing out the DVR. Shows had been piling up since the beginning of spring and I'd be lucky to catch up on everything before the start of spring training next year. Still, I felt like a tool when I realized it was already after five because I'd promised Sean I'd pick up the black forest cake he knew Mason wanted for his birthday. It was such a prissy thing in some ways, but I envied Sean for having found someone worth settling down with.

"Dammit," I groaned when I clobbered the back of my head on the doorjamb of my car. It was my own fault, because I'd been distracted by the lithe blond stranger walking out of Sean's garage. He definitely stuck out in our crowd, but in a good way. I looked down at my khaki shorts and faded Flash Gordon t-s.h.i.+rt and felt underdressed, even though I knew no one gave a d.a.m.n about that s.h.i.+t. We were the single guys, the bachelors, and often joked that the benefit of not having a wife was no one b.i.t.c.hed about what we wore as long as it was clean.

I set the bright pink bakery box on top of the car while I made sure I had my keys and locked up. The entire time, I watched the new guy walk across the street to Drew Jackson's car and grab some sort of fancy gla.s.s dish out of the back seat. If that was Drew's guy, he was a lucky son-of-a-b.i.t.c.h. I wasn't supposed to know that Drew was gay, but Sean had let it slip one night when I was complaining about being sick of being single.

It'd been a long time since I'd let anyone into my life, and there was only so much comfort to be offered by my own hand. I reached for the dog tags that were ever-present around my neck and closed my eyes. Not a day went by when I didn't think about Adam. It was getting harder, now that one of my closest friends was practically married to the love of his life and they'd adopted a kid together.

"Hey," I said when I caught up to him on the sidewalk. "Haven't seen you at one of Sean's parties before, I'm Jason."

The blond eyed me warily. "Yeah, I just moved to town," he informed me. His voice matched his appearance perfectly, slightly effeminate with just enough timbre to remind me that he was all man. He wasn't the type of guy I'd ever thought I'd be attracted to, but as he sat there waiting for me to say something, my body practically begged me to reach out and touch him.

"Well, it's good to meet you," I responded. He hadn't offered his name and I could take a hint. Life was too short to try to get people to talk when they weren't interested. "I'd better get this inside before Sean calls me again, wondering if I got lost."

"Okay." He stepped to the side and let me pa.s.s. That was a d.a.m.n shame, because I was hoping to follow him into the house so I could get a better look at the back of him. I wanted to see how it compared to his gorgeous front.

There was no one in the kitchen when I set the cake on the counter, so I turned around to get another look at the mystery guy. Even if he didn't want to be best friends, we were both going to be here for the night, and if he were with Drew, we'd see one another again tomorrow. It didn't seem out of line to at least want to know something about him.

"That looks amazing," I told him, pointing to the bowl in his hands. I shuffled some of the food that was already laid out so there was room at the end of the counter for his dessert. "Did you make that?"

His cheeks turned almost as red as the berries resting on a pillow of whipped cream. My under-s.e.xed mind immediately wondered what else would make him flush that way.

"Uh, yeah," he said, a bit sheepishly. "I just graduated from culinary school, but I haven't had the chance to make anything fancier than grilled chicken or pork chops for a while now."

That sounded heavenly to me. I could barely scramble myself eggs in the morning without s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g them up, which was why I lived off take-out when we were home. A few of the places near my condo knew my order as soon as my number showed up on their caller ID. "Well, whatever it is, I can't wait to taste it."

"Um, thanks."

Being a man of few words was one thing, but this guy took it to a whole new level. And yet, I couldn't bring myself to simply walk away the way I normally would.

"So, you came with Drew?" I pressed, wondering what it'd take to get him to open up to me.

"Yeah, he's letting me crash with him for a while." He took the plastic wrap off the top of the dish and picked at the top, making sure every berry was placed just right. I'd seen desserts like this before, but instead of the typical arrangement on top, he'd taken the time to make it look like a baseball. Very clever, even if none of these guys would appreciate the effort.

"He's staying at Eric Sapp's place, right?" I grabbed two beers out of the fridge and offered one to the still unnamed man. I leaned back against the counter, hoping he might offer that basic bit of information if we sat there long enough.

"Yeah, I guess. That's the guy who used to play for Milwaukee but he's out in Seattle now, right?" He mirrored my position on the opposite side of the narrow kitchen. "I haven't met him yet, but Drew said he should be here later tonight. I guess you guys are all off for a few days or something?"

Anyone who knew anything about baseball knew that most of us had a few days off every July, while the rest of the players went to the All-Star game. When I was a kid playing little league, I dreamed about seeing my name on the roster, but now, I prayed I wouldn't because I needed to recharge before taking on the second half of the season.

"Yeah, he should be landing in about an hour then he'll catch a ride up here. Does that mean you're going to be around for Eric's party tomorrow?" His brow furrowed in confusion. "Uh, I guess Drew didn't tell you that Sapp always hosts a party for the game? It won't be as big as this, mostly just some of us hanging out and relaxing."

"Oh, um, I guess I will," he said uncertainly. "Drew just got home last night, so we haven't really had much time to catch up."

Someone hollered for me to get my a.s.s into the living room. I didn't want to leave, I wanted to keep talking to the gorgeous blond and see if I could get him to open up a bit more. "Well, that's my cue," I said, the words sounding lame to my own ears. "I guess I'll see you around."

I felt him watching me as I took my time leaving. "Hey, thanks Jason," he called out behind me. I turned to see him worrying his bottom lip.

"For what?" I asked, confused.

"For not being a d.i.c.k," he said bluntly. "I was worried about coming tonight because I tend to stick out like a sore thumb."

"Anytime, kid." He flinched at being called a kid. Good. Maybe if he didn't care for that, he'd give me something better to call him. And it seemed a fitting nickname, since he'd mentioned just graduating and looked like he was barely over twenty.

"Cam," he provided with a sly smile.

"Cam, it's nice to meet you." I knocked twice on the edge of the doorframe before turning the corner into the living room.

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Note from the Author

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If you enjoyed Wild Pitch, I would love it if you let your friends know so they can experience the relations.h.i.+p of Mason and Sean as well! As with all of my books, I have enabled lending on all platforms in which it is allowed to make it easy to share with a friend. If you leave a review for Wild Pitch on the site from which you purchased the book, Goodreads or your own blog, I would love to read it! Email me the link at and I will be sure to get in touch with you to thank you!.

Other t.i.tles by Sloan Johnson:.

Unexpected Angel.

Unexpected Protector Unexpected Consequences.

Truth or Dare.

Dare to Dream Fragile Bonds.

Teach Me.

Dance With Destiny.

G.o.dsend.

About the Author.

Sloan Johnson is a big city girl trapped in a country girl's life. While she longs for the hustle and bustle of New York City or Las Vegas, she hasn't yet figured out how to sit on the deck with her morning coffee, watching the deer and wild turkeys in the fields while surrounded by concrete and gla.s.s.

When she was three, her parents received their first call from the princ.i.p.al asking them to pick her up from school. Apparently, if you aren't enrolled, you can't attend cla.s.ses, even in Kindergarten. The next week, she was in preschool and started plotting her first story soon after.

Later in life, her parents needed to do something to help their socially awkward, uncoordinated child come out of her sh.e.l.l and figured there was no better place than a bar on Wednesday nights. It's a good thing they did because this is where she found her love of reading and writing. Who needs socialization when you can sit alone in your bedroom with a good book?

Now, Sloan is a tattooed mom with a mohawk and two kids. She's been kicked out of the PTA in two school districts and is no longer asked to help with fundraisers because she's been known to lose herself with a good book and forget she has somewhere to be.

end.