Tamed V by Anna Page A

hitting the floor.
    “Disgusting,” I say, shaking my head. A tiny part of me is jealous, remembering how I used to do the same thing in this exact dugout.
    “Where’s Felix?” I ask, glancing around.
    “He was at school today,” one of the kids says at the same time someone else blurts, “I think he’s sick.”
    “Line up!” the umpire calls.
    I start to erase Owen’s name from the roster but stop myself. He’s our best first baseman and I’m not willing to give up hope that he’ll show. Maybe his mom’s running late. It’s happened before.
    “You heard the umpire,” I say to the kids. “Go line up.”
    The kids run out of the dugout and I stop Sophie. “Wait up.”
    “What?”
    “Your hair’s coming loose.” She pauses and lets me rebraid her hair, tying it tight at the bottom with a pink band. “Okay, go out there.”
    She catches up to the other kids, both blonde braids hanging from underneath her cap. She’s small but she can hit. I’m starting her on third base today.
    “You’re pretty good at that.”
    I look up and see a woman standing at the dugout entry. Felix runs past her, past me and lines up next to the rest of the team on the third base line. I breathe a sigh of relief.
    I hate losing.
    “It’s one of my superpowers,” I reply, really looking at her for the first time. She has beautiful green eyes and when I walk past her to grab a bat off the bench, I can’t help but check out her legs and her ass. Both fantastic. I raise an eyebrow at the tiny bird tattooed on her lower neck.
    She smiles back but the expression is tinged with confusion. Because, really, how many nineteen-year-old guys know how to braid hair?
    I didn’t know, myself, until Sophie got fed up waiting for Mom to do it. So I asked a girl in my gym class to show me how. Braiding looked easy when she did it with her thin, coordinated fingers. Using my thick boy fingers? Well, let’s just say it took a fair amount of practice.
    “Thanks for bringing Felix,” I say, turning my back and walking to the field. I hand the game roster over to the umpire.
    He checks their numbers and uniforms and I take in a deep breath, inhaling the warm spring air. I grab a wooden bat off the rack and hand it to the first player in the line-up and wait for the words I live to hear.
    “Play ball!”
     
    *
     
    “I can’t believe you caught that fly ball,” Owen says from the back seat.
    “I can’t believe you hit a double,” Sophie counters. “And made it to home plate without falling down.”
    I turn the music on the radio up in an attempt to drown them both out. I love them, but man, there’s only so much bickering I can take. I turn into the high school parking lot and pull up to the curb. Joseph waits on a bench, chatting up a girl.
    I roll down the window. “Let’s go.”
    Joseph holds up a hand, trying to buy another minute or two. I don’t blame him. The girl’s cute. When she sees me behind the wheel, her eyes light up and she nudges him along. Everyone in town knows who I am. What I do. Even this little girl.
    “Is he going to kiss her?” Sophie asks.
    Owen makes a retching sound. “Gross.”
    I tap my fingers on the steering wheel. “No, he’s not going to kiss her because, seriously, LET’S GO!”
    Owen and I may have the same blue eyes, and Sophie and I have the same slim fingers, but Joe and I look the most alike. Shaggy, blonde hair. Tan skin from being out in the sun so much. He’s starting to fill out from all the yard work he’s doing this summer. By fall, the girls will be all over him.
    Joe shoots me a look from the passenger seat after slamming the door, but I don’t care. I’m tired and the kids need to go home and get to bed. Halfway home, I glance over and notice him chewing on his nails.
    Damn. It’s always something.
    In the driveway, the kids jump out of the back and run past Mom’s car, into the house. I stop Joe and say, “She’s cute.”
    “Lindsay Walker is more than cute,” he