#lerayon

Judging by the concern still splashed all across her face, he might be misremembering that.

Still, he didn’t bother to fight off the wave of pure relief that swept through him when he’d opened his eyes to find her standing on the threshold to the dugout, worried wrinkle between her eyebrows and all.

“You here to have your way with me?” he mumbled, the words feeling loose and indistinct in his mouth.

Ginny didn’t respond, just let the door to the field swing shut behind her, cutting off the noise of the game, and clattered down the stairs. She stalked closer, that wrinkle deepening with every step. Maybe she hadn’t heard him.

He opened his mouth to say it again because that seemed like a good idea. It also seemed like a good idea to sit up straight, rather than slump against the concrete wall, cool and soothing as it felt on his back. Thankfully, the second cut off the first; Mike was too distracted by the crackling ache everywhere, flaring most insistently at the shoulder and knee that hit the ground first, to manage any words. For a moment, everything was a haze of pain, far worse than the regular stiffness he dealt with, and he struggled to even breathe.

But then everything came to sharp, sweet clarity the second Ginny put her hands on him.

“Mike!” Her voice was a low throb, but it was her cool hands, one cupping his neck and the other steadying his waist as he struggled upright, that got him to push through the pain.

“Hey, Baker,” he said, his own voice harsher than he’d like to admit. He peered up at her and grinned, trying to ease that worry. “You come here often?”

She didn’t even bother to roll her eyes or point out that they’d done a post-game interview with one of the local radio stations from this very spot just yesterday.

Ah, there was another thing he remembered, and a good thing, too. Ginny’s shoulder casually leaning against his as her feet swung and she talked pitch sequencing was something he wanted to hold on to.

Ginny let out a long breath and dropped her hands to her sides. He didn’t protest, but it was a close call. The furrow between her brows didn’t disappear, but one dimple made an appearance. If Mike weren’t a big pile of aches and bruises, he’d reach out and trace a line straight from it to her full mouth.

Her full mouth that was now moving. Mike gathered himself and focused on her words and not the way her eyes were roving over him.

“—that they didn’t even get you out of your gear.”

Oh, huh. That was true.

Looking down at himself, which didn’t make his head spin any worse at least, Mike took stock of his chest protector and leg guards, all of it caked with dirt and clay. He wasn’t sure where his helmet had gone after he flipped it off to receive the throw from left, but someone must’ve pulled it off the field as he hobbled down here.

“Right,” he said and then made no move to shuck any of his gear. Mike wasn’t sure if he even could get it off. What was usually the work of a couple seconds was going to take some careful maneuvering if he couldn’t even sit up without discomfort.

Rather than leave him to the indignity of struggling to do something he’d done a million and a half times before, Ginny just sighed and stepped in.

Surely, she lifted his arm and went straight to the buckle at his ribs holding the chest protector closed. Then, she went to his other side to help gently guide his arm through the hole. When he winced in spite of his best efforts, her hands froze, eyes darting up to his face.

He quirked his mouth in something that was probably more grimace than grin, and Ginny hummed sympathetically. “Sorry,” she murmured, lifting the padding over his head and making sure to miss the growing lump at the back of it.

“S’okay,” he breathed, staring hungrily at her. Whether it was because of her delicate touches and clear worry or the fact that his defenses had been knocked loose, he couldn’t fight down how much he wanted Ginny. In this moment and every other of his life, he wanted her.

That desire spiked into hot, overwhelming awareness as Ginny set his chest protector to the side and lowered herself to start working on his leg guards.

Ginny knelt, fingers working the catches, and Mike could only stare, dumbfounded, down at her.

He wouldn’t lie, though even in his potentially concussed state he knew it would be better to keep this to himself, but this wasn’t exactly the way he’d imagined first seeing Ginny kneel for him. Still, he wasn’t sure if he should praise or curse the hard barrier of his cup in his shorts; it wasn’t exactly comfortable at the moment, but it was certainly keeping him from embarrassing himself any further.

Still, Mike was intensely aware of how quiet it had suddenly gotten in the hallway. Even the ringing in his ears had faded, so there were only the faint, metallic clinks of the latches coming undone. Soon, one leg was free, and Ginny shifted to start on the other.

“Man, if I knew all I had to do was get clocked for you to start tearing my clothes off—“

Ginny gave his unprotected calf a thump with the side of her fist. “Don’t even,” she bit out, quickly working her way up his leg.

“Hey,” he said, bracing himself against a wave of dizziness, fingers curling over the edge of the table, “it’s not my fault you just started undressing me.”

She eyed his white knuckles and picked up her pace. Quickly enough, both guards lay on the floor, but Ginny’s hand still lingered on his knee, even as she climbed to her feet.

It was easier to breathe when she was once again at eye-level.

Though, now he had to confront the naked fear in her eyes.

“Because you couldn’t do it yourself, Lawson,” Ginny said, with none of the teasing that he’d come to expect from her. Hell, she didn’t even call him “old man.”

“Just a little banged up,” he assured her.

She seemed doubtful, so to prove that he was just fine—or would be in a couple days, Mike reached out and snagged her elbow. He pulled her in close until his knees bracketed Ginny’s hips where they were pressed to the edge of the table, and her hand slid up from his knee to the top of his thigh.

“C’mon, Baker,” he cajoled. “I’ve been in worse shape.”

Ginny just shook her head, but she didn’t put any distance between them the way she had every other time they’d gotten this close off the field. If anything, she leaned in, drawing on their closeness as much as he did. “Not since I’ve known you. It took you so long to stand up, Mike.”

“But I did.”

She sniffed, and that was when Ginny gave in and wrapped her arms around Mike’s neck. He grunted at the sudden weight of her draped over him, but he wouldn’t give it up for anything.

“You can’t do that to me again,” she said right into his neck, like she couldn’t admit to it if she were looking at him.

“No promises,” he replied, as gently as possible. Anything else, he’d give her without thought and without even knowing what their future would be. But until his baseball days were behind him, he couldn’t promise he wouldn’t get hurt. “And I mean, if you’re gonna insist on getting me out of my gear yourself when I do, then—“

Ginny reared back and nearly shoved him. She stopped with her hand just inches from his shoulder, her lips pursing.

“Watch it,” she warned, undermined by the tender way she pressed her hand to the left side of his chest. It lingered for a moment, like she had to verify that it really was his heart beating beneath her palm. “Or this is all the action that gear’s ever getting.”

“It’s not the gear I’m worried about, Ginny.”

Shivers raced through her, making the hair on her arm stand at attention. Mike was more than pleased with himself, even when Ginny gave him a disapproving look to cover her reaction.

She backed away, as reluctant to go as Mike was to let her, but there were footsteps echoing down the hallway, and it was probably better not to get caught like this.

“Worry about yourself, old man,” she confirmed, eyes darting to the side to gauge how much more privacy they’d have. “Because when action is on the table, you’re really gonna want to be at peak performance.”

Her smirk and the heat in her eyes perfectly conveyed exactly what she meant, and the haze of Mike’s pain retreated in favor of the dreamy, steamy daze of his imagination. And he’d always had quite the imagination.

He growled as she sauntered away, conveniently leaving Mike to explain to Kiki and his assistant exactly why he was looking so flushed.

This wasn’t exactly a problem. After all, he’d pay Ginny back in the end.