No One Like You by Kate Angell Page B

woman was involved.
    Rylan dropped down on the gray-enameled bench, pulled on his logo crew socks. His cleats came next. Contracted with New Balance, he had four boxed pairs stacked in his locker. Facing a grueling one hundred sixty-two game season, he sacrificed the metal grip and wore their plastic cleats. Plastic lessened the wear and tear on his joints. He chose the oldest and most scuffed pair for stepping in cement.
    Several feet away, Halo unbuckled his belt, unsnapped, and unzipped his jeans. He dropped and stepped out of them. He wore his boxers low on his hips. He made a grab for his baseball pants, hanging on a hook.
    Ry stood, stretched, and was about to ask Halo one final question, when the answer flashed before him. Wicked red scratches scored Halo’s upper butt. His lover had talons. Her fingernails had dug deep to draw out her passion. He would have scars.
    Rylan’s jaw worked. The outfielder lived by untruths and ulterior motives. Beth hadn’t made him late, as Halo had sworn. Sex had. Halo knew the team rules. Those spoken and unspoken.
    “Who scratched your ass, Halo?” asked Ry. “I hope she was worth the fine.”
    Busted . Halo contorted to check out his backside. Heat circled his neck. “Shit. Cut me some slack, Ry-man. It’s preseason.”
    “This is a scheduled Rogues event.”
    Halo swore beneath his breath. “What-the-fuck-ever.” He finished getting dressed.
    The locker room door swung open. Landon Kane called to them. “What’s holding you guys up?” He blinked. “Damn. First Rylan and now you. What’s with the haircut, Halo?”
    Halo rubbed his bald spot, grumbled, “Team unity.”
    Still Land was skeptical. “We voted on tattoos.”
    “Cuts now. Tats later,” said Halo.
    Landon wasn’t convinced. He ran a hand through his hair. “I like one length.”
    So did Rylan. Had he been Land, he would’ve headed for the door and not looked back.
    Halo hedged a little more. “Unifying the team is a huge undertaking.” He made it sound as if he had the Rogues’ best interest at heart. “Call it preseason initiation. Cuts precede the first pitch of spring training.”
    Landon shifted. Uneasily. “Have all the guys committed?”
    Halo rubbed his chin. “Pretty much so.”
    “Not fully.” Rylan had to be honest.
    “Stand with us, dude,” Halo pulled Land in.
    Reluctantly, Landon said, “Maybe later. There’s no time—”
    “We’ll make time,” Halo said. “I have an electric shaver in my locker. What’s another five minutes?”
    That was exactly how long it took Halo to trim Land’s hair. The two men were tight. What one man started, the other man finished. They always had each other’s backs. Even when it came to bad haircuts.
    “How’s it feel?” Halo asked Land once he finished.
    Landon touched the side of his head. His expression was pained. “Lopsided.” He glanced in the mirror set between the lockers. “I look like shit.”
    “Edgy.” Ry recalled what Beth had said.
    “Whacked,” Landon grumbled.
    Three of nine starters were now buzzed. There were six players to go. Ry wondered how the remaining dominos would fall. No man would be pressured. He wouldn’t allow it, although Halo had a way of convincing people to do things they might not ordinarily do. He was a one for all and all for one kind of guy.
    Rylan grabbed his baseball cap and moved toward the door. “Let’s go. We’re really late.”
    “We?” Halo caught Rylan’s eye. “Fines all-around then? Not just on me?”
    Ry glared at him. “You held us up in the first place, remember?” How quickly Halo could forget.
    “Yeah, but we’re three bad haircuts facing Media Day. You’re not alone, dude. That should count for something.”
    It counted for little. “I’ll think about it,” was all Rylan would commit.
    “Landon,” Halo called to the third baseman. “Mirror, mirror on the wall, your hair hasn’t grown at all. Move your ass.”
    Land followed them out. They were met by two