This was Heath’s sister.

“Boy, when Heath said you were attractive, he wasn’t lying,” Nikki said as she grabbed a handful of potato chips and perched on the arm of the sofa.

I really didn’t know what to say. Firstly, Heath had spoken to her about me? And secondly, he had called me attractive?

A thrill of excitement made its way through me.

Not knowing what to say, I bit my bottom lip and mumbled, “Thanks.”

Heath reappeared, dressed in army shorts and a black t-shirt that hugged every perfect muscle of his chest and shoulders. His hair was still damp and he smelled like fresh deodorant and soap.

“I’ve met your girl Heath. You didn’t tell me she was so beautiful,” Nikki teased. Her eyes sparkled with mischievousness as she popped a potato chip into her mouth.

Heath shot her a warning look. “She’s not my girl, Nikki.”

“Really? Because the amount of times you talk about her—”

“Don’t you have a date or something?” Heath interrupted, obviously trying to put an end to his sister’s amusement at his expense.

She shrugged. “It can wait.”

“I wish it wouldn’t,” Heath replied.

Nikki sighed and stood up. “Fine. I’ll be back later. Enjoy the game.” Once again her bright blue eyes found mine and crinkled with amusement. “It was lovely to meet you Harlow.”

I nodded and smiled. “Thanks, you too.”

Leigh re-joined us after his shower and promptly took over one of the couches.

With Jesse and Piper on the other couch, Heath and I had to share the remaining one. When he grabbed my feet and put them over his legs, I didn’t stop him.

The game started, and Heath decided to explain baseball to me. I didn’t have the heart to tell them my brother played pro-ball and that I’d been raised on a steady diet of Braves and Sand Gnats. It was as if he believed I was raised wearing ribbon and bows. Like I was sugar and spice and all things nice.

Truth was, I had an older brother and older cousins and we liked to get up close and personal with mud. My youth wasn’t spent in a parlor, primped and perfumed with my hair perfectly coiffed. It was spent climbing trees, fishing local creeks and playing ball in the large fields that surrounded our home.

Primping and perfuming didn’t start until I needed a bra. When playing with my brother, cousin and the local boys became inappropriate. And my life became about appearances, high teas and bullshit social expectations.

When one of the Sox hit a foul ball and Heath started to explain what was happening, I told him I’d played baseball before. I just didn’t tell him how much I had played.

Surprised, he threw me the baseball he was chucking between his hands.

He scoffed. “You know how to play ball?”

Offended by his automatic disbelief in my ball abilities, I cocked a brow and my eyes narrowed and twinkled mischievously. “Baby, I was born to play ball.”

His lips twitched. “Well, you might just have to prove that to me.”

“Another bet?”

He smirked. “You’ll lose.”

I shook my head. Game on. “I don’t think so.”

He leaned closer, trying to intimidate me. “I swung a bat before I could walk.”

I threw the ball back to him. “What’s wrong Heath, scared you might lose?”

He laughed. “Okay, Mickey Mantle, I’ll call your bluff.”

To Heath’s displeasure the Sox beat the Dodgers, which inspired him to take on our bet and prove a point. We decided to hit the local sports field for a friendly ball game.

It was late afternoon when we arrived. Heath. Me. Jesse and Piper. Leigh. Armie and Kelsey, whose relationship was currently in the on position. Nikki turned up as we were leaving the house, and joined us too. It was going to be girls against boys so there was a fair bit of good natured sex against sex rivalry.

My girls and I were going to bat first.

Time to show Heath there was a little more to me than cashmere and pearls.

* * * * *

HEATH

It was guys versus girls. Nothing like a little friendly battle of the sexes. Losers would shout dinner.

Privately, Harlow and I had our own bet. If she scored more runs than me, I would cook her dinner. The works. Three courses. Apparently the girl liked food.

If I scored more runs than her, I would still cook her dinner. But she would have to spend the night with me.

Not in that way.

I wasn’t dumb enough to think I could bet my way into her libido.

But the idea of falling asleep with her in my bed … just having the warmth of her next to me, I’d be lying if I said I’d never thought about it. Fantasized about it. And not with my hand on it. I just wanted to feel her in my bed and wake up next to her.

Surprisingly, she had agreed to the bet. Which was exciting, because there was no way she was going to win. After all, I’d gone to college on a baseball scholarship.

“This is your last chance,” she whispered in my ear as we made our way towards the field.

“For what? For me to back out?” I scoffed. “Like I told you when I met you … I play hard.”

Harlow suddenly grabbed me by the crotch, surprising the hell out of me.

“Hmmm, that’s yet be seen.” Her eyes twinkled mischievously across at mine. She smiled and swung the bat over her shoulder as she walked off. “See you on the field.”

Fuck me. This was a side to her I’d never seen. Sassy. Assertive. Ballsy. If I wasn’t so turned on, I’d probably be worried about losing the bet.

She was just trying to put me off my game. Psyche me out. I wasn’t blind. But hey, if that involved her putting her hands on me—especially there—then that was just fine by me.

“I dunno dude, you got much riding on this game?” Armie asked. He was wearing a pair of ladies oversized sunglasses and a cigarette was hanging off his lip. Babe Ruth or Joe DiMaggio he wasn’t. “She looks like she knows her way around that bat.”

We both watched her walk over to the home plate.

“Yeah, well, she hasn’t had to face my fastball.” I said.

Armie didn’t look convinced and took his rock star butt over to right field. He threw a kiss to Kelsey on the batting bench, pitching it like a baseball and almost falling over in the process.

Harlow was first up to bat. She had pulled her long hair into a high ponytail and looked fucking amazing wearing one of my Dodger’s caps.

In high school and college I was pitcher. I would spend hours practicing and had pretty much perfected my fastball. It would be unkind to unload that on her, especially since she probably had no real idea how to play. The chances Harlow had played high school baseball were slim, and she had probably only handled a bat once or twice in her life.

Although, her stance over the home plate was pretty good.

“I promise I’ll be gentle,” I said to her.

She raised a perfectly arched eyebrow at me. “Don’t hold back on my account, Heath. Give me everything you’ve got.”

Damn. Did she have to say shit like that to me? My brain interpreted it in so many different ways and none of them had anything to do with baseball.

I thought for a moment then without hesitation pitched it to her with all I had.

To say Harlow knew how to play would be an understatement, and in the next few seconds she pretty much dashed my hopes for winning our bet. She swung that bat like Babe Ruth and smashed the ball right out to left field. I didn’t see where or who it went to because I was left standing there, mouth gaping, as I watched her take off to first base. Then second. Then third. When she slid into home, I was so turned on I just wanted to take her home and spend the rest of the afternoon learning what other talents she had.

Now I understood why she had agreed to our bet so easily.

She looked up and winked, and I came undone. This was love.

Next up, my sassy sister took to the plate. I knew she could play. She had grown up with three Dillinger brothers, so she knew her way around a baseball bat.