Off the Hook by Laura Drewry Page B

neck protector wasn’t going to do her a bit of good flapping around like that.
    Was it weird that seeing her suited up in that gear did something to him? Softened him, made him smile? Shaking his head clear, he bent to the task of collecting the balls and tossing them back in the bucket.
    “You don’t have to do that,” he said. “I’m pretty much done.”
    “But I got geared up,” she said. “Come on, throw me a pitch.”
    She was already waddling toward his makeshift home plate, which was actually an old seat cushion from one of the boats; he’d found it in the fish shack and cut it roughly into shape.
    “I’m not going to pitch to you, Kate,” he said, laughing lightly. “You could get hurt.”
    “Oh, please,” she scoffed. “I’ve got more equipment on than a linebacker, so pitch.”
    “No.”

    The fact that she had to tip her head back that far to see out of the mask was pretty much reason enough, but Liam didn’t say that, and good thing, too, given what she said next.
    “D’you have any idea how long it took me to get all this on?” For some reason she kept slapping the glove against the equipment, as if that proved how well it worked. “Come on, a couple pitches. Let’s see what you got.”
    “What I got?” He laughed. “What are you, a scout?”
    It didn’t seem to matter what he said, because she was already crouching behind the plate. Or at least she was trying to, but the equipment was making it a little tricky for her, and twice she lost her balance and almost tipped over.
    “Oh, for—” Liam grunted as he set the bucket of balls down. Wrapping his hands around the sides of the chest protector, he pulled her to her feet and turned her so she faced away from him.
    “What are you doing?”
    “Adjusting.” There was no gentle way to do it, so he tugged, pulled, and yanked on straps from her calves all the way up to her head, until everything was at least snug on her. He hardly gave a second thought to the last time he was that close to her or to how many times over the years he’d remembered what it felt like to run his hands over her skin, so soft, so perfect. And as he tightened the helmet, he hardly paid any attention to how freakin’ good she smelled or the way her silky hair brushed over his hands. Because if he let himself notice that, then he’d remember what it was like to thread his fingers through her hair and…
    Fuuuuuuhhck .

    Liam forced the memory away and blinked the helmet back into focus. The whole getup was still miles too big, but at least it wasn’t hanging off her like a tent and she didn’t have to tip her head up to see anymore.
    “Oh,” she murmured. “That’s better.”
    Liam couldn’t help but smile as he turned her around again.
    “All right, then,” she said, punching her hand into the pocket of the glove. “Let’s do this. Bring the heat.”
    “Bring the heat?” Liam didn’t move, just stood there grinning. “Do you have any idea what that means?”
    “No,” she said with a short shrug. “But that’s what they say, isn’t it?”
    Shaking his head again, Liam reached for the bucket of balls and headed to his makeshift mound. If Finn had tried to use jargon on him like that, Liam would’ve beaned him with a ball, but it was too damn cute coming from her.
    By the time he set up, Kate was crouched behind the plate again, glove up, free hand tucked behind her back.
    “Okay,” she called. “Throw some smoke.”
    Snorting quietly, he scraped his foot against the ground and tried to focus. He wasn’t going to throw smoke at her, but he still needed to hit the glove. And he did.
    Kate was on her feet like a shot. “What the hell was that?”
    He wasn’t expecting that. “What d’you mean? That was a good pitch.”
    Hell, in his Little League days, that pitch would’ve had most batters quaking in the box. Fast and straight, right into the pocket of the glove.
    “Oh, come on,” she sneered. “I can throw harder than