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(Shifter Hardball 03)
Cheyenne MeadowsTucker Wilde’s life is in a tailspin. Twenty-four hours ago, he was one of the top second baseman in the all-shifter professional baseball league. Now, he’s lost his starting spot to a rookie, been dumped by his girlfriend, and had a night of explosive passion with a man—a teammate at that. He can’t get Dixon out of his mind—even though Tucker still believes himself to be straight. With his career in jeopardy, he’s unsure where to turn or how to fix the mess.
Dixon Foxx is a baseball prodigy, though a perfectionist father stole any joy he might find in the game. He only sticks with it because it’s all he knows—and because of Tucker, the man Dixon’s wanted since they met. His dreams come true one night, only to turn into a nightmare the next morning when Tucker blows off their incredible time together as a drunken mistake, never to happen again.
The life of a switch hitter is all about mixing things up. Tucker excels at it. Only this time, the game isn’t on the line—his heart is.
Release date: 5th June 2017
Dixon watched as one of his teammates darted for home, gracefully sliding across the plate even though the throw wasn’t even close. Tucker. Tucker Wilde. The wild dog shifter who played second base for their team and the object of Dixon’s wet dreams for the past few months.
Tucker stood, not bothering to dust himself off, and retrieved the discarded bat lying nearby. When he bent over, his lily-white rear shone through a long L-shaped tear in his uniform pants.
Dixon chuckled as Tucker tilted his head and then patted his posterior, obviously feeling a bit of a breeze on his backside.
“Nice rip,” Wiley, the shortstop hollered. “You might want to cover it up, though.”
“And soon,” Trigger, the cranky catcher, added with a good dose of command.
While Dixon agreed on the compliment, he wasn’t in as much of a hurry to see that small portion out of sight.
Tucker trotted toward the bench, pausing at the steps leading down into the dugout area. “Why do I have a feeling that my butt is going to be plastered all over the sports channels for the next two days?” He shook his head and grinned at Dixon.
“Probably because it is?”
Even as they spoke, a cameraman hustled behind Tucker, lowered the angle of his camera, and fixated on Tucker’s rump.
“There’s already enough bad shit on television. Do we really have to add Tucker’s bare ass to it?” Trigger growled at the media guy. The man looked up, blinked, and made a hasty retreat.
“Hey, grizzly. Some people might like to see a little peekaboo from me.” Tucker wiggled his rear before turning to face Trigger, which ended up giving Dixon a great view of the flapping opening in the pants.
“Yeah, right. Keep wishing.” Trigger plopped down on the bench and snarled at Tucker.
Tucker was one of a kind and well-liked. If the players took a vote, Tucker would surely be a leading candidate for team clown.
Although, in this situation, Dixon wasn’t sure his silly antics hadn’t gotten Tucker in over his head.
Unable to resist, Dixon rolled his eyes, then laughed. “You’re cruising for a bruising, buddy. Better think about changing before Trigger gets serious.”
Tucker flashed him a mischievous grin. “What fun is it if you don’t poke the grizzly a little?”
“Fun or suicidal?” Dixon asked.
Trigger stared intently at Tucker as if daring him to press his luck. Dixon had seen that look in the past—right before Trigger launched into pissed-off bear mode.
“Just because he’s happily mated doesn’t mean he’s mellowed, Tucker,” Dixon warned. The polar bear shifter, Graham, seemed to be the only person who had the ability to chill Trigger out. Too bad, as a pitcher, Graham was relegated to the bull pen for the moment.
“Whatcha going to do, bear? Huh? Cat got your tongue?” Tucker teased while shaking his butt at Trigger again.
In a flash, Trigger lurched toward Tucker with a menacing growl.
Tucker scurried out of reach just in the nick of time. The playful threat didn’t stop him from flipping Trigger the bird along with a mischievous grin. Egging it on. Like usual.
The other players in the dugout broke out in laughter at the antics. Dixon included.
Trigger grinned wolfishly. “Good thing I actually sorta, maybe, almost like you.”
Tucker’s mouth fell open at the admission.
“Go change already. It’s not like the whole game is going to stop because you’re hanging out to dry.” Banner, the manager, waved toward the door leading to the locker room. His ordering tone ceased the fun. For now.
Tucker saluted and quickly disappeared.
Dixon tried not to stare at the flexing of firm muscles exposed for his viewing pleasure. When the door shut, Dixon turned his attention back to the game.
In the process, he noticed Wiley looking at him with what could only be called a Cheshire cat grin on his face. “What?”
Wiley shook his head but didn’t answer otherwise. The smile remained as well.
Well, hell. Wiley obviously caught his interest in Tucker’s partially covered rear. Nothing new, per se, since the whole team knew he was gay. However, he could see Wiley rattling his cage a bit about checking out a teammate for more than the size of bat he carried. The wolf shifter had a devilish streak that popped out now and again. Dixon would just have to wait patiently to see if anything came of his enthrallment with Tucker’s ass.