Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 44850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 224(@200wpm)___ 179(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 224(@200wpm)___ 179(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
“In your dreams, Slate,” Parker snaps, elbowing the other man.
I look at the guy who is built like The Rock, all muscle and brawn—which honestly isn’t my type. In my experience, if they work constantly on their muscles, their ego is just as big, and their brains are much smaller. I’m not saying every man is like that—not at all. Sadly, it’s just that the ones I’ve met that are. Then again, I don’t have much luck when it comes to the opposite sex and that might be why.
Still, I immediately dismiss this guy—which isn’t easy to do since he might be built like The Rock, but he looks like a young Lenny Kravitz and that man makes me weak in the knees. This guy’s hair is much shorter, but the facial features are so similar that my heart speeds up. That’s something that never happens to me, and I don’t want it to now. Certain men set off warning bells. The fact this guy enjoys signing his name on random women’s boobs screams danger.
“What do you say, beautiful? Want to meet me after the game and let me prove I can rock your world?”
I blink. “Rock my world?”
“Definitely. I’ll even make you purr.”
“That’d be hard to do,” I respond shaking my head.
“I do my best work hard,” he replies with a grin.
“You did not just say that.”
“Oh, but I did.”
“Well, congratulations, hot stuff. You didn’t make me purr, but you did make me vomit in my mouth a little.”
“Woah,” Parker laughs. The other guy looks at me with shock on his face. I get the feeling he doesn’t get turned down very often. I might even be the first woman ever to do so. I smile as I walk away.
CHAPTER 1
Slater
One Month Later
“She’s back tonight. That girl is driving me crazy. I’ve never had a Bat-Bunny make me work so hard for it,” I joke before taking a drink of my Gatorade.
“What are you going on about, newbie?”
I grumble under my breath when Ryder uses that damn nickname the team has saddled me with. I am the new guy here. I’ve only been with the team for three months. I like it. I mean, living in hot-as-hell Texas in the minors wasn’t where I saw my career going. I’ll just be honest and admit that I’d rather be playing for the Braves—which is from my hometown. It has been a lifelong dream. Still, this is where I’m at. I’m paying my bills while playing the sport I love. I must admit, Bat-Bunnies like the chick in the stands watching the game makes being here even better.
“The chick sitting up in the stands behind Coach’s wife. We’ve been playing games for the last month. She keeps showing up, sitting where she knows I’ll see her and looking so damn fine she makes my balls ache.”
“Which girl?” Ryder asks.
“The hot chick wearing the pink shirt,” I mumble. “And don’t get any ideas. She’s mine.”
“Holy hell,” he responds, letting out a long, drawn-out wolf whistle that gets on my nerves.
“I know. She’s fine as hell. You can’t have her, though. I saw her first.”
“Oh, believe me, buddy. You can have that one all on your own.”
“I don’t need your permission,” I mutter.
“That’s good, because you aren’t going to get it,” he laughs. “That girl is way out of your reach, man.”
“Bullshit. There isn’t a girl around out of my reach.”
“Trust and believe, buddy. That girl is.”
“Whatever you say, Ryder. I’ll prove you wrong after the game. You can just sit back, take notes, and watch the master at work.”
“You hear that, Santos?”
“Hear what?”
I exhale, completely annoyed. The thing about being the new guy is that most of team is intent on ragging on you and giving you shit. Let the bastards laugh. I don’t really give a fuck. That little Bat-Bunny up there with the twinkling eyes and fuck-me smile is mine.
End of story.
“The new guy thinks he’s going to nail Mary.”
“You’ve got to be shittin’ me,” Finn Archer says, joining the group.
“Her name’s Mary?” I ask. The name seems kind of regular for her, but it’s not like I can talk. My parents named me Slater and I’ve always despised it.
The guys all laugh, which pisses me off more. It doesn’t exactly make me happy that all the men know her name and I didn’t. Still, they’re so sure I’m not going to nail her. That must mean she doesn’t give them the time of day. I’m starting to rethink the whole Bat-Bunny angle—which makes me happy. I might dabble with women who want to get laid by a baseball player, but something about Mary tells me I want a relationship where I know mine is the only dick that she’s getting for however long we do our thing.
“I’ve got confidence in you Slate. I’ll bet these other assholes here you can get her in the sack tonight,” Big Mike says. He’s Parker’s—the star player’s—little brother. He’s young, but he’s decent at the game. I can’t help but wonder if he doesn’t get tired living in Parker’s shadow. That wouldn’t be the life for me. I’d want to distance myself in his shoes.