The Cessna U Wildcats Audiobook Bundle

Swinging Strike

Dating the hot athlete? Yeah, Been there, Done That…

Braxton Smith.

Cessna University’s baseball captain.

Naturally talented.

Sinfully gorgeous.

And exudes enough arrogance to fill a stadium.

That same cocky attitude is what landed him in my anonymous gossip column. 

Believe me, I, Cara Gonzalez, don’t want anything to do with him.

But he’s everywhere.

In my class.

In my dorm.

In my mind.

I left this type of drama back home. 

Transferring to Cessna University is my chance for a redo.

And regardless of his rock-hard abs and panty-dropping smile,

Arguing with an athlete isn’t one of my goals.

My instincts betray me, though.

This attraction feels different.

Stronger.

I have no choice but to stand my ground. 

Because this time, I’m afraid I’ll not only be hurt. 

I’ll end up gutted.

Book One in the Cessna U Wildcats series, Swinging Strike is an enemy to lovers, standalone romance. If you like sexy, hot baseball players, download Braxton Smith today.

Swinging Strike

Cara

How bad can prison be? I mean, seriously. The jail cell can’t be smaller than the dorm I’ll be calling home next week. And like the residence halls, they dish out food I don’t have to cook, and they provide a recreation room and workout center. Hmm, the latter isn’t much incentive. I’m not into lifting weights. Nope, I leave that burden to my brother. He’s the athlete of the family. I tap my fingers against my lips, pondering my options. I suppose the workout center would be necessary. I’ll need to get tough. Build my endurance or suffer being someone’s bitch. Oh my God, I’m totally going to be someone’s bitch!

“What the hell are you thinking about? Your face is all contorted.”

My gaze flicks across the white, linen-covered table and lands on a pair of matching brown eyes. They stare back at me as if I’ve lost my mind. Perhaps, I have. I straighten in my seat and clear my throat.

“I was wondering how bad prison life would be.” I bite back my grin as my brother’s eyes widen. His mouth opens, but nothing comes out. Wow, I’ve rendered him speechless for once.

“Do you plan on committing a crime?” The evenness of Mia’s tone makes her sound like a seasoned detective. As if this type of questioning is asked every day. I freaking love that AJ and she got together. Her sassiness is the perfect complement to my brother’s cockiness.

“Perhaps. If I can’t come up with something.” I push my overpriced, half-eaten manicotti away and fall back into my chair. The food at Dida’s Italiano Ristorante is good, but I’ve lost my appetite. School hasn’t even started, and the assignments are swallowing me whole.

“What are you talking about?” The wrinkled brow and gruffness to AJ’s tone is a stark reminder of home. He’s always been protective of me but nothing in comparison to Mom. If it were up to her, she’d bundle me up in bubble wrap and never let me leave. That level of protection is what drove me to have the worst year of my life.

“It’s this assignment. Remember when I told you I was going to be Cessna University’s latest gossip columnist?” I ignore AJ’s dumbfounded look and continue when Mia nods. He wouldn’t have known. When I shared this great news, AJ was on his way home from a long road trip. “Anyway, I talked to Alan, the editor-in-chief-slash-professor, and he wants something written by the first week of school. How am I supposed to come up with something that quickly? School hasn’t even started.”

“What gossip column? What does that have to do with becoming a veterinarian? Did you switch your major again?”

“No, I didn’t change.” I roll my eyes at my brother’s accusation. Veterinarian school has always been the end goal. Not that he would know. “If you remember, my minor is in communications. Since I didn’t choose my minor until transferring last semester, I had to take what classes were available. My adviser talked me into this class, which means working for the newspaper.”

Getting into veterinarian school is extremely competitive. With the hit my grade point average took, I desperately needed to beef my transcript. I picked communications to learn how to write grants. At the time, the plan sounded ingenious. Now, not so much.

Mia pauses, her fork, filled with lobster risotto, dangling midair. “You have to write an article before school even starts?”

“Uh-huh, and I don’t see how that’s possible. What kind of dirt can I dig up from home? It isn’t like a story is going to land in my lap.” I wave my arms in the air as my voice rises. “This is why I want to strangle my editor. Personally, I think Alan hates me. He holds a grudge for some reason. I wouldn’t be surprised if he assigned this impossible task in an attempt to set me up to fail.”

AJ’s hardened expression makes me shrink back into my chair. I know that look. He wears it when he thinks I’m being overdramatic. But I’m right this time. AJ’s not around to witness how the guy treats me.

“I’m sure that’s not the case. He doesn’t even know you. How about watching football practices? Maybe, you’ll see something there to write about.”

“The rumors don’t have to be bad, do they?” Concern lines cross Mia’s forehead. “I mean, I can’t imagine this being a good morale booster.”

Her question makes my stomach churn. When I first was assigned this project, I thought it’d be fun. Exciting even. But the more I think about it, the less thrilled I become. I’ve been on the receiving end of rumors back in Philadelphia. It sucks.

“I brought that point up when Alan called, but he dismissed my concerns rather quickly. I think he has something against athletes. Maybe he was the last kid picked for teams during gym class?” Sort of like me. Whatever his excuse, the whole thing leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I pick up my nearly empty glass of water and frown. The waitress hasn’t checked on us for a while now. “If I was still working here, this glass wouldn’t be empty.”

“Because you were such a stellar waitress?” AJ deadpans, and Mia about chokes on the bite that made it into her mouth.

“I wasn’t that bad.” I know he’s teasing, but his words hit close to home. I may not have been horrible, but I wasn’t that good either. It takes a lot of skill and patience to wait on the public. I have tolerance in spades; it just happens to be for the four-legged variety. “Besides, you’re the one who didn’t want me working, remember? The reason behind me quitting and all.”

“And I stand by what I said. You need to enjoy these last two years of undergrad.” His sincerity softens my heart, if only momentarily. “Have you talked to Mom lately? She was complaining the last time I talked to her.”

“Not lately. I’ll call her tomorrow.” I grab my glass to wet my dry throat and curse the emptiness. My relationship with Mom has been strained for the last couple of years. AJ’s my go-to guy, but I hate it when he slips into the moderator role.

“Sorry, everyone,” Lexie, my best friend and ex-work buddy, says as she enters our private room carrying the much-needed water pitcher. “It looks like I’ll be your waitress now.”

“What happened to the last girl?” I ask, but it’s pretty easy to guess.

Lexie’s lips flatten to a thin line, and she clears her throat before speaking. “She’s finding another source of income.”

“Seriously?” I give my brother a pointed look. “I told you Mr. Monroe is impossible.”

“Fine, fine.” He laughs, putting his hands up in mock defense. “All I know is, when you were working, I walked up to one pissed-off customer and a red-faced manager.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not my fault the woman married an asshole.” The pitcher I had been carrying accidentally spilled on her, dousing the entire front side of her shirt with ice-cold water. I had tripped forward when her husband’s hand landed on the back of my thigh. “It also wasn’t my fault she wore a thin white shirt with a thinner bra.”

Everyone laughs but me. I still feel bad and don’t blame the lady for being embarrassed—she could’ve cut glass with those diamond-hard nipples that would’ve made her a clear winner in a wet T-shirt contest—but she didn’t have to be so mean. She demanded they fire me on the spot. Before I followed Mr. Monroe to his office that night, my brother waltzed into the restaurant. His presence was all it took for the ice queen to melt. Turned out, she was a huge Dodgers fan. Go figure. A few sweet words and an autograph later, my job was secured, and Monroe’s “word” was nothing more than a meaningless warning. My brother, the starting catcher for the Dodgers, saved the day. Or saved me. Again.

I suppress a sigh and fake a smile, trying desperately to ward off the tingling sensation sweeping up the back of my neck. I steer the conversation back to my current problem. “I’ll go to campus on Monday and find out when the football team practices. Maybe, I can find something worthy to write about.”

“Sounds like a good plan. The bigger question is… Are you going to be biased when it comes to the baseball players?” AJ quirks an eyebrow, knowing full well what the question does to me. I don’t take the bait. Let’s face it, I’m not.

“Are you going to win and make it to the playoffs?”

Mia laughs as AJ grumbles. “We’ll make it.”

“You can’t afford to lose any more games, Gonzalez,” I chide.

“I know. We’ve got this.” After the rocky start to the season, his team sits with a one-game advantage ahead of the Giants for the wild card race. And yes, the wild card is the team’s best hope at advancing. Arizona sits comfortably on top of the division with a six-game lead. Mathematically, the Dodgers aren’t eliminated, but it would take a miracle. The Diamondbacks are tough this year.

“I have no doubt my team will pull off the win,” Lexie chimes in.

AJ waves his hand toward the traitor. “See, right there. Now, she’s a true fan.”

“Whatever. My heart belongs to the Phillies.”

“Yeah, I’m a little torn,” Mia admits, shooting me a wary glance before gnawing on her lips. I hate this. I hate that she feels guilty at the mere hint of her brother. The ugliness surrounding our breakup shouldn’t involve her.

“At least you’ll be rooting for the Dodgers in the playoffs. The Phillies don’t stand a chance this year.” The slight condescension in AJ’s tone raises Mia’s eyebrow, but who can blame him? Mia’s brother took AJ’s position. There isn’t any love lost between Drake and AJ. I hate him for my own personal reasons. But despite Drake’s excellent performance, the team hasn’t had a stellar season. It’s a far cry from the previous two years.

“Don’t jinx us,” Lexie fills in as she pours AJ’s water.

“You’re the one who had all the faith in us not less than three minutes ago,” AJ huffs.

“That’s different. That’s me.” She turns toward Mia’s glass, fills it, and then sets the pitcher on the table. “Are you excited to start school next week?”

“Yes, it’s long overdue.”

“I’m proud of you, Mia, for going back. I can’t believe both my girls will be in school together,” AJ boasts and looks proud. There’s only one major difference—AJ isn’t paying for Mia’s schooling like he is mine. Not that he didn’t try, but she refused his help. I’m not in the position to turn down his charity. My brother always comes to my rescue. I think about the problems I had last year. The problems I caused. My throat suddenly dries, and I reach for the now full glass of water. Mia smiles warmly at me, but she’s a stark reminder of my past mistakes.

My gaze darts around the room reserved for celebrities and famous people. Maybe, I should be honored sitting here secluded from the public, but all I feel right now are the walls closing in. And what is up with the temperature? I think Mr. Monroe has the heat cranked up despite the eighty-degree weather. Lexie seems to take notice of my sudden demise. She nudges my shoulder and motions for me to follow.

“I’ll be right back,” I tell AJ and Mia and follow Lexie out. When we exit the room, I take a deep breath. “Thanks, girl.”

“No problem. I have a drink order I need to get in.”

I follow her in silence. Talking, scratch that, thinking about my ex makes me anxious. It’s been several months. I’ve had plenty of time to get over him. And I am over him. It’s just embarrassing how I got so wrapped up in him. Moving to California and transferring to a new college is supposed to be my new start. Sort of like a do-over. I’m not sure how writing a gossip column plays into that.

We reach the bar, and Lexie places the drink order with a new bartender. I’m not exaggerating. Keeping help around here is impossible.

“The real reason I wanted to drag you here is the delicious man candy alert in section D. He’s one of CU’s finest.” She turns to me with a pale blonde eyebrow raised, challenging me to look.

I laugh while securing the bobby pin working loose from my bun. As if the promise of a hot guy isn’t enough of a lure, she tosses in Cessna University’s finest dessert to hook me. How could I resist a peek? With skills that would make Ethan Hunt jealous, I slip into recon mode and shift my gaze past the open bar. My old boss stands next to the kitchen entrance in deep “conversation” with a busboy. Poor kid. From his doe-eyed expression, it looks like he’s taking the heat that used to be reserved for me.

“Hurry up and look already,” Lexie says through a laugh. “Monroe’s attention span is short. He’ll be up in my face next.”

Assured she won’t be reprimanded, I pivot until my back rests against the wooden edge and peer past the open entrance into the dining area. My gaze lands on the guy, looking every bit as delicious as Lexie described. His sandy-blond hair is cropped short on the sides with an almost spiky top. I can’t tell the color of his eyes. He’s glancing at his phone, brow scrunched, while finger-punching the screen. It’s as if each hard jab conveys his tone. The mystery person can’t see you. Spare your keyboard. Send the angry-faced emoji or a few exclamation marks instead.

He pauses, jawline set in determination. A moment later, he shakes his head then jabs away at the screen again, clearly not getting my mental message. Somebody has pushed his hot button.

The whirling buzz of blending ice alerts me to the drink that’s almost done. It doesn’t matter. I’m not moving. I’m too busy checking out Mr. Delicious’s black T-shirt stretching across those broad shoulders. Casually dressed, given his surroundings, he exudes an “I don’t care” attitude. The way he conducts himself reeks of confidence. I’ve seen shoulders like his before. In fact, the same lean muscle and strong forearms look familiar. Too familiar.

“He’s an athlete!” The accusation in my voice draws the attention of the nearby table. I smile apologetically at them and then scowl at Lexie. The bartender sets her drink behind us, but I continue to glare at the person who knows about my no-dating-athletes rule.

Lexie laughs under her breath and picks up her drink. “Can’t get one past you. They don’t call him Modern-day Babe Ruth for the hell of it.”

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