Hot Summer Night Baseball

By Remy Marie

Since little league, Jalen Mitchell had only three goals, play professional baseball, win a World Series, and be inducted into the hall of fame. After four years in the pros, he was accomplishing that lofty dream by becoming rookie pitcher of the year and winning a World Series. It wasn't until his fifth year in the league, his game started slipping. As his statistics worsened, his manager decided to demote Jalen to the AAA affiliate team to regain his confidence.
The move to the different league doesn't work, as Jalen remains in a downward spiral. Depressed, Jalen thought his dream was over, until he meets an old crush from college. Former college softball player, Jessica Garcia, shows him that baseball is more than just a game, not only reigniting his passion for the game, but his passion for life.
The two fall for each other, but Jessica's past holds her back from growing the relationship further. Unable to move on, their newfound love is challenged, and Jalen must make the ultimate decision between his love of the game and his love for her. Will this new love last, or will it fizzle out?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Remy Marie
• Release date: Sep 13, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223212768

Remy Marie

Remy Marie is a romance author who loves to write about charming heroes and brave heroines. While writing never came naturally for Remy, he continued to strengthen his craft, by constantly reading and writing. If he is not writing or reading, he is usually watching TV with his supportive wife, aggressively cheering for his college and professional sports teams, playing video games, or crunching numbers at his daytime job.

Book preview

Prologue

Five Years Ago

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, calming my senses. I stood in my ready position, with the ball in my glove, and my gaze focused on the catching net sixty feet away. Sweat rolled down my back as I adjust my feet, preparing to throw.

Inside the baseball training complex, my favorite hip-hop song blared through the speakers. The indoor pitching facility at Central Tech University was a dimly lit room, with three grass turf pitching mounds and black nets across from it. The building was surrounded by sheet metal and had very little ventilation, making it a warm and muggy environment. It smelled musky and wasn’t the most pleasant place to spend your time in, but strangely, I liked it like that. It was called the sweatshop for a reason. 

I was the only pitcher there. Everyone else had called it a day, but not me. I was putting in the extra work. If you wanted to be the best, you had to outwork the best.

I was in the zone. I was hot. I was feeling it. I was a pitching god.

I removed my cap and wiped the sweat from my shaved head. After taking a short break, I inhaled another breath and then grunted, throwing a sinker. The ball perfectly arched to the lower corner of the strike zone. I grinned and walked towards a bucket of balls nearby.

I breathed deeply once more before grabbing another baseball to throw.

Come on, Jalen. Come on. I repeated, pumping myself up. I growled low, hurling a fastball toward the lower corner of the strike zone.

Bullseye.

I got my breathing under control, steadying myself for another throw. I focused on the target across from me, narrowing my eyes.

Bottom of the ninth. In a tight 1-0 game, this World Series. I muttered under my breath. So far Jalen Mitchell has thrown an incredible game. We have never seen anything like this in the World Series. Two down, with a tie run on second, this last strike will seal it. Here it is...

I sucked in a breath and grunted as I threw a curveball. The ball came off my hand wrong, slipping to the right a bit, and going outside the strike zone net.

Fuck, I growled. I shook my head, walking back to the bucket.

I grabbed another ball and lazily threw a fastball down the middle.

Before the ball could reach the net I heard a loud crack, making me jump.

Oh, right on the barrel! This ball has the distance. It’s going, going, gone! The crowd is shocked! A perfect game ruined by a single walk-off homer to left! The team and fans are speechless!

I turned to find my catcher, José Reyes chuckling. He stood near the door of the hitting facility, wearing a pair of baggy jeans, tan boots, and his blue CTU baseball jersey. His baseball cap was backward underneath his brown, shaggy hair.

Aren’t you a little old to be doing the whole bottom of the ninth inning, World Series gimmick?

Asshole, I flicked him off and grabbed another ball. I didn’t hear you come in, I observed, throwing another strike at the net.

How could you? I can barely hear myself think with this music. It’s giving me a headache. It’s so loud.

I like it. Gets me going. I take another look at his outfit before grabbing another ball to throw to the net across from me. You should go get changed. I would prefer to throw to you than this damn net. I’m getting tired of picking up the balls when the bucket is empty.

Can’t. We have to go to a charity event with the women’s softball team, remember?

Oh yeah. That... I grunted, throwing a fastball dead center. I’m not going to that.

I figured you’d say that. That’s why I’m here to drag your ass out. Come on, let’s go.

No, I need to keep working out.

You keep working like that and your arm is going to fall off. Take some rest.

No, I growled, tossing another ball.

Seriously, Jalen? Take a break. Come on, this event will be fun. Those softball chicks are gorgeous. Thick thighs and all. Perhaps one of them would take pity on you.

Don’t need to date. Baseball is my date, I exhausted, pitching a sinker toward the left corner.

Baseball is your date? Please tell me you’re not jerking off to a baseball.

I would if it got me to the league.

Seriously? You’re going to get drafted. You’re an All-American prospect and a projected top-ten draft pick this year. You’re going.

Yeah, but I don’t plan on playing in the minors, waiting for my name to be called. I’m going straight to the majors. I’m going to be Rookie Pitcher of the Year, win a World Series, and be in the Hall of Fame. People in the Hall of Fame don’t take breaks. They work on their craft until it’s perfect.

There’s more to life than baseball. I’ll prove it. Take a break.

I paused and wiped my brow once more.

No. I picked up another ball from the bucket.

I’ll sweeten the pot. Come with me and I’ll catch with you the next time you want extra practice. Anytime you call, I’m there.

Anytime? I questioned, with a smile curling on my face.

Ugh, I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?

Deal. Let’s go.

Whoa, not like that. José held his nose and waved his hand around. You stink and you need to take a shower. I’m not talking to any women with you smelling like that.

I laughed and followed him out of the indoor pitching facility to the locker rooms. After a quick shower, I got dressed in a pair of jeans, sneakers, and my blue CTU jersey, matching José. After a quick check in the mirror, I smiled at my appearance, rubbing my scruffy beard.

I was always an athletic kid. Growing up, I played basketball and football, but my first love was always baseball. At six-foot-two, two hundred pounds, I was the ideal pitcher’s height and weight. While most pitchers were lanky, I had more muscle mass than most, as my bulky biceps stretched the shirt cuffs. I loved being mixed race, as my dark tan skin complexion matched the dark blue CTU polo that I had on.

Yo, Romeo. Are you planning on staring at yourself in the mirror all day or can we leave now? I swear, if all of the softball girls are talking to our other teammates...

Relax. We can go. If anything, I’m doing those ladies a favor by keeping you from them.

I haven’t had any complaints yet.

Trust me, they’re there.

José laughed and flicked me off. Come on, let’s go.

I followed him across campus towards the banquet hall. Along the way, we discussed our upcoming series against baseball powerhouse, Virginia Beach University.

The banquet hall was a three-story, all-glass structure that was on the university’s athletic campus. Usually, the football team used it for various events, but once in a while, the university allowed other athletic teams to use it.

The annual softball/ baseball charity event was a challenge series where the baseball and softball teams held competitive head-to-head challenges in a variety of games to raise money for their respective charities. The softball team rose money for breast cancer research while the baseball team rose money for ALS research.

The banquet hall’s décor was filled with various baseball and softball memorabilia. Our school colors of blue and silver were the dominant colors in the banquet hall. Around the building were several tablecloths and banners. The room had twelve tabletops and dozens of chairs that were placed in front of a raised stage with a podium. Walking in, I saw my teammates and the softball players talking to alumni and boosters. They spoke at a low enough volume that you could hear the band playing a soft tune.

I barely made it inside before I was mobbed by several patrons telling me how they like my style of play and how I was the next great thing at the university. Honestly, as I shook each person’s hand, all I wanted to do was leave. I hated events like these. During the multiple conversations with the boosters, I went over the pitch calls in my head.

Slider, curve, fast...my thoughts were halted when I saw her. I know it’s cliché to say she took my breath away, but she really did. I’d seen her once or twice in the weight room, but I’d never said hello. I knew she was the pitcher for the softball team, but my knowledge of her ended there.

She looked amazing. Granted, she was only wearing a CTU blue polo and khakis, but she filled out the tight shirt and pants flawlessly. I bit my lip, admiring her athletic build. She had curves in all the right places.

She had light, tanned skin, and was wearing makeup, but not a lot of it. It was just enough to highlight her beautiful facial features. Her straight, dark brown hair was shoulder-length and rested on her shoulders. She was chatting among a group of friends when our eyes caught each other.

She smiled back at me and the first thing I wanted to do was run. I began to walk away when José walked up behind me.

I see that you have a type. Trust me, Mexican women are the best. There’s nothing like the love of a Latina. Once you go Mexican, you don’t go back.

I think it’s once you go black, you don’t go back.

José rolled his eyes. You’re half-black. Don’t get cocky.

I chuckled and took a sip of the water.

Go and say hello.

No.

She likes you! She hasn’t even once looked at me. That’s saying something.

That’s not saying anything. For some strange reason, women are usually revolted by you.

Hey! José slapped my shoulder, and I laughed.

I turned to see if she was still looking; she was still talking to her friends, but our eyes kept locking.

Go! He shoved me in her direction, and I took a deep breath, preparing to approach her. Honestly, I didn’t know what was wrong with me. I’d had girlfriends in the past and I’d gotten many compliments about my looks. Seriously, if I had a dollar for every woman who claimed to love biracial men. Yet, as I approached her, I was nervous. Why was I nervous?

Before I could say hello, a man walked to the podium and smiled at the crowd.

How is everyone this evening? So far, we have managed to raise over fifty thousand dollars for breast cancer and ALS research! How about a round of applause?

Everyone cheered and clapped.

Great, for our final event of the night, we are going to have the two pitching aces of the teams compete head-to-head in a pie-eating contest! From the softball team, we have Jessica Garcia!

The softball team cheered and the woman I had my eye on all night waved to everyone and walked onstage. I grinned, learning her name was Jessica.

And for the baseball team, we have the hot left-hander, Jalen Mitchell!

José clapped and whistled. Don’t let us down!

I gave him an uneasy smile before approaching the stage. I really didn’t feel like eating a whole pie. The fact that I was already full from appetizers wasn’t helping the situation either. At the top of the stage, Jessica stood in front of two apple pies.

Hi! She waved.

Hi, Jalen...

Jessica. She greeted me with a smile.

Damn, did I love her smile. It was bright and energetic. She would make a perfect spokesperson for a toothpaste ad.

Baseball, softball, apple pie, can we get more American? All we’re missing is a creepy man in an Uncle Sam costume, I joked.

She giggled. Exactly. At least it’s apple pie. It’s my favorite type of pie.

Me too, but I don’t know if I can eat another bite. I filled up with appetizers earlier.

Don’t tell me you’re quitting on me. There are two outs in the inning with the bases loaded and you’re going to quit?

I smirked, I always close out the inning.

Prove it.

You’re on.

We both bent over the pie and placed our hands behind our backs. I glanced over at her and she gave me a competitive smile. Damn, did I love her edge.

The announcer told us to go, and we both dug in. My face was covered in the sticky apple substance. As I buried my face, I could hear the crowd cheering. I didn’t take a single breath, eating as fast as I could. I felt full, but I didn’t stop. I had to win. Halfway through I heard, winner!

Looking up, I saw an empty pie dish and Jessica standing proudly. The softball team cheered loudly as Jessica danced. She looked at me and grinned. Nice try.

I let you win.

Sure, she winked. Before leaving the stage to join the rest of the girls. They all squealed, giving her a big hug. I smiled at them and then wiped my face, heading back to José.

Damn, that’s embarrassing. How did you lose to her?

She’s a quick eater!

Sure.

I looked back and caught her eye once more. She smiled at me, and I grinned back. I watched her whisper to her friends before turning her gorgeous brown eyes to me again.

You think I should ask her out? I asked José.

I think you should before I do. Thick thighs, Mexican, and can eat a pie in under two minutes. That’s a woman you bring home to Mama.

I grinned. Okay, I’m going to ask her out. I took a step towards her but was halted by my head baseball coach, Travis Williams. He was an older man, close to retiring, but a wise college ball coach. Like me, he wore a pair of jeans and a baseball polo. He was a couple of inches shorter than me as he looked up into my face.

Sorry coach, do you mind moving?

He placed a hand on