Read Online It's a Wonderful Fireman: A Bachelor Firemen Novella (The Bachelor Firemen of San Gabriel) by Jennifer Bernard - Free Book Online
Authors: Jennifer Bernard
Ads: Link
stool in an open-air tiki bar in some unremembered city in Texas, where they’d both just finished the last game of the Double A baseball season. “What’s up?”
“You mean besides my batting average?” Mulligan winked.
“Shut up.”
Caleb Hart was a brilliant young fastballer who’d gotten a huge signing bonus and was now working his way up through the ranks. No one expected him to be in Double A for long. He was a hot prospect, someone to build a team around, unlike Mulligan, who fought and scrambled for every edge. Not only that, but he had the loose-limbed, rangy, blue-eyed cowboy good looks that made the girls crazy. At every game, he had a cheering section of bikini-clad girls.
He would have been easy to hate, except he kept his head down and worked hard, and no one had anything bad to say about him.
Caleb might be a superstar-in-the-making, but Mulligan had just touched him up for two doubles and a home run. There was a very good reason for that. Not only was Caleb a bit wild, but he had a tell. Mulligan, with his obsessive attention to details, had noticed that every time Hart set up for a curveball, he jerked his chin to the left. As soon as he’d figured that out, he connected every single time.
Caleb downed a shot of whiskey and signaled to the bartender for another. “What’re you drinking? Most everyone here’s getting one of those flaming tiki drinks in a skull, but I just didn’t have the heart for it. I’m doing straight shots, hold the lighter fluid. End of the season. Might as well go down in style.”
“You buying?” Mulligan asked, surprised.
“Why not? You killed me out there. To the victor go the shpoils. Spoils.”
Mulligan shook his head at the slurred words. The guy had already had a few, but hell, that wasn’t his problem. “I’ll take a beer.”
The bartender set them up with their drinks, and, surrounded by flaming tiki torches and waitresses in fake grass skirts, Mulligan and Caleb proceeded to get drunk. Well, Caleb was already halfway there, but Mulligan didn’t take long to catch up. He soon realized that he’d really messed with the young pitcher’s head, nailing him for three hits in one game.
“I’m fucking this up,” Caleb kept saying. “I don’t belong here. I got lit up like a Cuban cigar today. And I have all these people counting on me to come through. I got twin brothers and a sister, and they’re all depending on me.”
“Really? I gotta say, I had you pegged all wrong. Thought you were a golden boy.”
“Fuck that.” He dropped his head onto his folded arms, looking like death warmed over. “I’m going nowhere, brother. I’m on a slow ride to Fuckup-ville. I already see them putting me in the debit column marked Big Ol’ Waste of Money. I ought to just give it back. ‘Here you go, sorry for all the trouble.’ ”
“Don’t even go there, dude. You’re going to the Majors, for sure. First time I saw you pitch, I knew. You got it, Hart. You got the juice, the mojo, the whatever you want to call it.”
“You hit two doubles and a home run off me today.”
“Yeah, but that’s—” He stopped abruptly. If he told Caleb about his tell, he’d never get a hit off him again. As a marginal hitter, he survived on any little edge he could find. He’d been scrapping his entire baseball career. Fighting, surviving, stealing bases, messing with pitchers’ heads, making the unexpected throw to home or to first or to wherever the other team wasn’t expecting the play. That was his entire reputation in the league: minimal talent, relentless drive, and detailed knowledge of the game.
It was enough to keep him employed.
But eying young Caleb Hart’s gloomy profile, a piece of knowledge pounded its way through his thick skull. Caleb had tremendous potential. He was a true baseball talent, breathtaking to watch. A phenom. Mulligan loved baseball. That’s why he’d stuck it out all this time. He loved the sense of teamwork required to
“You mean besides my batting average?” Mulligan winked.
“Shut up.”
Caleb Hart was a brilliant young fastballer who’d gotten a huge signing bonus and was now working his way up through the ranks. No one expected him to be in Double A for long. He was a hot prospect, someone to build a team around, unlike Mulligan, who fought and scrambled for every edge. Not only that, but he had the loose-limbed, rangy, blue-eyed cowboy good looks that made the girls crazy. At every game, he had a cheering section of bikini-clad girls.
He would have been easy to hate, except he kept his head down and worked hard, and no one had anything bad to say about him.
Caleb might be a superstar-in-the-making, but Mulligan had just touched him up for two doubles and a home run. There was a very good reason for that. Not only was Caleb a bit wild, but he had a tell. Mulligan, with his obsessive attention to details, had noticed that every time Hart set up for a curveball, he jerked his chin to the left. As soon as he’d figured that out, he connected every single time.
Caleb downed a shot of whiskey and signaled to the bartender for another. “What’re you drinking? Most everyone here’s getting one of those flaming tiki drinks in a skull, but I just didn’t have the heart for it. I’m doing straight shots, hold the lighter fluid. End of the season. Might as well go down in style.”
“You buying?” Mulligan asked, surprised.
“Why not? You killed me out there. To the victor go the shpoils. Spoils.”
Mulligan shook his head at the slurred words. The guy had already had a few, but hell, that wasn’t his problem. “I’ll take a beer.”
The bartender set them up with their drinks, and, surrounded by flaming tiki torches and waitresses in fake grass skirts, Mulligan and Caleb proceeded to get drunk. Well, Caleb was already halfway there, but Mulligan didn’t take long to catch up. He soon realized that he’d really messed with the young pitcher’s head, nailing him for three hits in one game.
“I’m fucking this up,” Caleb kept saying. “I don’t belong here. I got lit up like a Cuban cigar today. And I have all these people counting on me to come through. I got twin brothers and a sister, and they’re all depending on me.”
“Really? I gotta say, I had you pegged all wrong. Thought you were a golden boy.”
“Fuck that.” He dropped his head onto his folded arms, looking like death warmed over. “I’m going nowhere, brother. I’m on a slow ride to Fuckup-ville. I already see them putting me in the debit column marked Big Ol’ Waste of Money. I ought to just give it back. ‘Here you go, sorry for all the trouble.’ ”
“Don’t even go there, dude. You’re going to the Majors, for sure. First time I saw you pitch, I knew. You got it, Hart. You got the juice, the mojo, the whatever you want to call it.”
“You hit two doubles and a home run off me today.”
“Yeah, but that’s—” He stopped abruptly. If he told Caleb about his tell, he’d never get a hit off him again. As a marginal hitter, he survived on any little edge he could find. He’d been scrapping his entire baseball career. Fighting, surviving, stealing bases, messing with pitchers’ heads, making the unexpected throw to home or to first or to wherever the other team wasn’t expecting the play. That was his entire reputation in the league: minimal talent, relentless drive, and detailed knowledge of the game.
It was enough to keep him employed.
But eying young Caleb Hart’s gloomy profile, a piece of knowledge pounded its way through his thick skull. Caleb had tremendous potential. He was a true baseball talent, breathtaking to watch. A phenom. Mulligan loved baseball. That’s why he’d stuck it out all this time. He loved the sense of teamwork required to
Similar Books
