Long Ball: A Secret Baby Sports Romance Read online

  Long Ball

  Rae Lynn Blaise

  Bigger on the Inside LLC

  Contents

  Prologue

  1. Five Years Later

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Epilogue

  Bonus book

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Also by Rae Lynn Blaise

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2016 by Rae Lynn Blaise

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Prologue

  Omaha, in a lot of ways, is nothing like my native Venezuela. It’s flat and quiet and completely landlocked between miles of corn and soybeans. I miss the sprawling hills and explosive nightlife around the beaches. You don’t need to see the stars because of the lights all around you. Tequila flows like rivers and plantains fill my belly. Venezuela is real magic.

  But Omaha has something Venezuela could never hope to have: professional baseball, county fairs with real American cowboys, and all the George Strait music a country boy could need. Light beer, big trucks, and finger-lickin’ barbeque while girls in tiny shorts and cowboy boots dance the afternoon away.

  We have all of those things back home—the cowboys and music and fairs and beautiful women—but there’s something different up here. It’s like I’m in a John Wayne movie about to steal the girl and lock up the bad guys.

  It’s the Duke’s courage I summon as I cut through the busy fairgrounds, stomach in my boots. I’ve been watching this girl for hours, trying to summon the courage to finally speak to her. We’re like magnets in the blazing Nebraskan sun—every time I turn the corner, there she is with a smile that blinds me.

  She tosses her blonde hair and laughs with her friends, looking every bit the perfect American beauty. I bet that if she cut her finger she’d bleed red, white, and blue. I imagine her hair smells like wide open spaces and freedom. Her ass, wrapped in tight denim, almost has me singing the National Anthem.

  God bless America.

  Her hips rock in time to the music on stage and I’m captivated. The rest of the fair doesn’t matter, whatever my friends are talking about doesn’t matter, hell, George himself could come say hello and shake my hand and I wouldn’t look at him twice. She’s perfect. And I can’t make myself go say hello. I’m never the guy who can chat up all the pretty girls, and she’s more than beautiful.

  “Don’t be a puss, Bonilla.” Carter shoves my shoulder. “You’re a Storm Chaser! We don’t get scared!”

  I didn’t point out that he was the one dry heaving into a bucket the day we all thought he was being called up to the Royals, because I’m a good friend. But I thought it.

  So I drain my beer and start this walk across the Omaha County Fair, trying to think of something witty to say to this gorgeous girl, when my brain flat-lines and starts spitting things out in Spanish that don’t make any sense. It was funny when I was a kid, not so much when I’m trying to, as Franklin says, “grow a pair.”

  After some deliberation, I set myself up behind her, close enough to be tripped over, but not close enough to seem like a creep. She’s dancing in place to the cover band’s version of a George Strait song that I’ve loved since I was a kid, Amarillo by Morning.

  Sure enough, by the second chorus, she trips over my boots and nearly falls. I move to catch her in a dip, like in the movies, but I fumble and she drops to the ground with an OOF!

  “Are you okay?” I pull her up and try to hide the burning red flames in my face. Over her shoulder, I can see Carter and Franklin laughing their asses off.

  “Sorry!” Her voice is sweet and melodic. She’s laughing, which I hope is a good sign. “I got so into the music, I didn’t even see you there!”

  “Me, too.” My eyes wander to her hips, where she’s dusting herself off. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Golden.” She flashes another gorgeous smile and I’m filled with resolve. “I’m kind of a klutz, anyway. Are you okay?”

  “I just had a beautiful girl fall into my arms, so I don’t think this day can get much better.” I smile at her and my stomach is in knots, waiting for her response. Another smile blooms across her face and I start doing mental cartwheels. “Can I buy you a drink to make up for it?”

  “I should be the one buying you a drink. I stepped on your boots!” She gestures to the ground and I see a boot-sized dust print on the toe of my pair. I decide to never polish them again. “What’s your poison?”

  You, I think. My boys back home would have said it, but the words freeze in my throat. Instead, I say, “Ladies choice, but a gentleman always pays.”

  She laughs and waves me off. Tells her friends she’ll be right back and I can feel all of them sizing me up, judging me. Some things are universal, Venezuela or Nebraska, and this is one of them.

  We settle on a pair of dark colored colas in clear bottles and an oversized bag of kettle corn. She clinks bottles with me and points out the different show animals in the pens. Her brother is showing a pig off in the distance, and it makes her wrinkle her nose.

  “You don’t like pigs?” I tease. “Pigs are wonderful! Bacon!”

  “Pigs stink.” She shakes her head. “And they eat a ton. Believe me, eating them is not worth the food bill. They are the cutest things ever as piglets, though. I always wanted to keep one as a pet, but they just get so big.”

  “Savior of the cull day?” I tease. “It suits you. You look like the kind of girl who would adopt all the kittens in a kennel. Saving the day in your cute boots.”

  “Farm cats are excellent for catching mice.” Her eyes are so, so bright. They remind me of wide open skies. “I never miss these fairs, though. Scott is the gentlest little farmer and I love seeing how proud he is of the animals he’s raised.”

  “My sister didn’t raise pigs, but she had a special bond with all of our chickens back on my parents’ farm. They chased me around the pen, but they flocked to her like she was one of their own. Unfortunately, I didn’t inherit her skill with the livestock.”

  “She sounds amazing.” She leads me around to where her brother is standing proudly, chest puffed up, while judges examine his portly pig. “Animals always know someone’s true intentions. Maybe they knew you just wanted to eat them.”

  “Guilty. Chicken is a real staple back home.” I think about placing my hand on her lower back, the desire so intense my hand itches. Instead, I scratch the back of my head.

  “Home?” She turns to look at me and doesn’t falter when she notices how close we stand. “Where are you from?”

  “I’ll tell you where I’m from…if you tell me your name.” I try to look nonchalant, even though my heart is hammering in my chest.

  “What’s yours?”

  “Ah, I asked first.”

  She feigns seriousness and somehow becomes more beautiful. “Your chickens hated you. You might be a serial killer for all I know, getting your start with small livestock. I need to keep mine a secret until you tell me, to protect my life, obviously.”

  “Would I need your name to kill you?” My eyes drift down to her low cut shirt and I
have to drag them back up. The idea of putting my hands on her, in a very different way from how she’s teasing me, makes my jeans a little tight. “I mean, I could haul you off behind the stalls right now if I wanted.”

  Her lips purse, just a little. “Maybe you’re a really smart killer.”

  I laugh. “You assume too much.”

  “Maybe, but admit it, it’s fun not knowing the person you’re talking to. There’s no strings attached, no expectations. Just two strangers sharing some sodas and some popcorn at a dusty fair.” Her smile lingers and I see her try to check me out without being obvious. Our eyes catch and she looks away.

  I smile and watch her pull a sip of the dark colored liquid between her lips. Naughty thoughts fill my brain and it’s my turn to look away, studying the beer stand next to us. I’m a gentleman, always have been and always will be. My mother would murder me in my sleep if she ever caught wind I was anything but. Sometimes, though, it’s hard to deny the urges running through me.

  “I like the accent. Where are you from, killer?” I like the way her mouth forms words. Her lips are full and smooth.

  “We had a deal, remember?”

  She shakes her blonde head like a halo. “I never agreed to such things. Self-preservation and all that.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, Carter and Franklin appear. Franklin mimics something incredibly dirty with his beer bottle and winks at me, causing me to laugh uncomfortably. My mystery lady cocks her head to the side.

  “I, um, I’m from Venezuela.” I hope she follows me down the path I’m foraging, away from Carter and Franklin’s insinuations. I’m a guy, a carnal one, but I could spend hours listening to her laugh. “I came here a few years ago to play baseball for the Storm Chasers.”

  “Ahh.” She has a knowing smile that I can’t comprehend. “A Royals hopeful.”

  “Is that bad?”

  “No.” She shakes her head quickly. “No. That’s a big deal.”

  “What about you? Any big dreams?”

  My dream girl leans against a fence post and stares off into the distance. “I don’t know, really. Sometimes I think I can’t wait to get out of this town, with all the cows and the corn. Nebraska isn’t exactly the most exciting place in the world. But not having my family nearby would be so weird. Who would I hang out with?”

  I laugh. “You make friends. But I understand.”

  “You left your family back home, didn’t you?” Her face is etched in concern. She places a hand on my arm and my body temperature raises ten degrees.

  I nod and swallow down the small lump in my throat. “I’m sending money to my parents for my little sister, Camila. She’s thirteen and wants to go to University. My parents don’t make much money, so I’m doing my part, even if it means I’m far away. She’s going to be an amazing veterinarian one day.”

  “That’s so sweet.” She gasps. “It must be so lonely without them.”

  “It’s okay, it was time for me to leave home. America is great and I’m loving life here. I miss Camila a lot, but I’m hoping she may want to come here for school, and we can take over America together.” I wink at her. “I’ll remember to think nicely of you when we do.”

  “Why, sir, you are too kind.” She laughs and blushes and she’s perfect. “I guess this means I get a stay of execution.”

  “Does that mean that I won’t kill you? Because I haven’t decided yet.”

  Her laughter fills my ears and the empty spaces within like magic. My cheeks hurt from smiling and I don’t think there’s anyone more perfect in the entire world. We make our way around the fairgrounds to see all the animals—“Why do they smell so bad?” she moans. “Not everything can be as perfect as you,” I say smoothly—and spend a little time watching the bands play. It’s only two songs before she grabs my hand and leads me out to where all the dancers are. My footwork is atrocious, but I’d two-step with this girl every day if she asked me.

  My hands never leave the small of her back after we dance. She pulls me around for carnival rides and games, corn dogs and more colas, and back to meet her friends for the late night fireworks. I don’t know what happened to Carter and Franklin, and I really don’t care. I have never felt so carefree, so happy, than in this afternoon with her. Everything felt effortless and perfect.

  “You’re going to take me home, right?” Her brilliant blue eyes flash up at me as a shower of blue sparks lights up the sky.

  I smile, even though I never really stopped, and say, “Of course.”

  “Good.” She nestles against me for the rest of the show.

  I don’t take her home. I don’t want the night to end. Instead, I drive us out into the middle of nowhere, in the middle of all the corn fields, and park my truck right along the side of the road. The fair is only half a mile away, but it feels like there’s no one for an eternity, and the stars overhead are the second brightest things I’ve ever seen. The first are her eyes.

  “When I’m lonely, I like to look at the stars.”

  She doesn’t say anything, but squeezes my hand. I hate breaking that contact, no matter how brief it is, so I make it as quick as I can. I grab the blanket I keep stashed in the backseat and throw it over the bed of my truck. We hop in and stretch out so there’s nothing but us and the stars and George Strait playing through the windows.

  It’s the perfect American date, full of the simple joys I enjoyed at home, but with freedom and beer and gorgeous blonde girls in cowboy boots. I almost wish I brought my dog to round out the image.

  “It’s like you planned this or something, killer,” she teases.

  I’m grateful she can’t see me blush. “I actually like to come out here by myself a lot. The constellations are a little different, but the stars are just as bright here as they were back home. For a little while, it’s like I never left.”

  She leans up and brushes her lips against my jawline, surprising me. My whole body runs hot and cold and I stay very still, in case she didn’t mean to do that and regretted it. I don’t want her to stop, but I also don’t want her to run away out of embarrassment or something.

  She doesn’t move, so I tighten my grip around her and rest my cheek against her head. This is like something out of a movie. This is something I never want to end. She tangles her fingers in mine and lets out a little sigh.

  “Am I ever going to know your name?” I ask.

  “Maybe one day.”

  “Tonight?”

  “Definitely not tonight.”

  “Why not?”

  “Everything feels so perfect right now. Why ruin it?”

  I can’t argue with that, so I don’t. George’s Carrying Your Love with Me comes on and I sing it softly, rubbing my hand along her arm. Her fingers dance across my chest. It takes another song for me to work up the courage to kiss her, but when I do, fireworks may as well be exploding across the sky as Proud to Be an American is blaring in the background.

  My whole body runs hot and cold as I take her in my arms and kiss her. Her lips are soft, her mouth sweet, and she’s hesitant and giving all at once. She’s everything a kiss should be. She’s everything a woman should be, and the ache in my heart and in my pants would let up.

  “Wow,” she murmurs against my mouth, as we pause to breathe and accept the reality of what just happened.

  Only hours ago, I tricked her into stumbling over my boots just to say hello, and now her legs are entwined with mine, in the bed of my truck, with no one around but the stars in the sky and George on the radio. My fingers are looped in her belt loops and in her hair, and I have no desire to remove them.

  Her blue eyes are haunting in the dark, so intense as I feel her prying, trying to figure me out in the dark. My pants strain as an aching erection that I’ve been trying to stave off all day comes roaring to life. All I want is the taste of her. All of her. She is everything I ever wanted in this big, foreign country and the thought of losing her is as sharp and painful as a knife to the side.

  Her leg drags acro
ss my hip and erection and I hear her breath catch. She can’t see my cheeks burn with lust and fire, but I know she can feel how badly I want her. She bites her lip, runs her fingers up and down across my chest but always stops at my belt buckle.

  Finally, she says, “You surprise me.”

  Softly, I say, “You are everything I ever wanted.”

  She crashes into me, our tongues hungry and our lips desperate. I toy with the buttons on her shorts for just a moment, and as soon as I move my hands away, she pushes them back. An invitation.

  My abuelito’s voice fills my brain. “Jamie, when a lady tells you to enter, you only have to say no if she’s had too much to drink. A drunk lay is a disrespectful lay. You wait until morning and ravish her then. With women, you must always be polite.”

  My lady told me to enter, and there is no alcohol on her breath, so it would be wrong for me to decline. And, as gentlemanly as I try to be, my cock is so hard it could explode. It’s been, well, a very long time since I’ve been carnally entwined and it’s all I can think about: her curves, her scent, her taste, the swell of her breasts against my chest.

  I tug on her shirt and she undoes my buttons and in a flash, we are naked beneath the stars, our lips like magnets. She wraps her legs around my waist as I find her opening, her breath hot and desperate in my ear. I want to fill every inch of her. I toy with her opening and a chorus of moans spill out of her lips. A reminder to slow down and enjoy this beautiful girl above me. So I carefully roll her over and run my hands over her soft body. Every place I touch erupts in goosebumps and moans.

  She’s a live wire, ready to explode, everywhere I touch her. It’s the most euphoric experience of my life. She is shy and beautiful and so willing to please. When I lean down to lick her nipple, she screams in ecstasy. I suck and lick and nibble against her swelling breasts as her body writhes beneath me and she quietly begs for more.

  More than more, I’d give her everything. I lick her clit and she pulls my hair. Fistfuls of it as my tongue ravishes her pink center. Her taste is unlike everything I’ve ever experienced, and all I want is more more more. She moans beautifully as I slip my fingers into her tight wetness, fucking her slowly and nibbling on her clit. We’re making music in the back of my truck in a way the greats could never hope to.