Pitch Perfect: Boys of Summer, Book 1 Read Online Free PDF Page B

with staggering accuracy.
    With all the usual suspects in tow, they walked the few short blocks from the Hyatt to a downtown bar called The Low Ball. Lakeland was a baseball town. Home of spring training, but also a popular minor league team. A lot of money was made catering to the fans and players of the game. Tucker wouldn’t be surprised if eighty percent of the town’s revenue was made between February and September.
    They weaved their way through the packed barroom, seeing a few famous faces among the crowd, and settled down at a small reserved table towards the back of the bar. Moments later a short man with thick bifocals and big belly arrived at their table with two pitchers in hand and a teetering tower of glasses in the other.
    “How are my favorite boys?” he bellowed, plopping the pitchers among the peanut shells on the table before distributing the empty cups to each man.
    “Aww, Gus. I bet you say that to every Sox, Ray and Yankee,” Alex said.
    Gus, the owner of The Low Ball, feigned shock and dismay. “No, no. You boys know me. Felons fan to the very core.” He gave them a wink and returned to the bar where a handful of Mariners players had arrived. He began cooing about how big a Mariners fan he was.
    Everyone who’d been into The Low Ball knew exactly who Gus’s real favorite team was. The entire place was festooned with baseball memorabilia, and though he tried to keep things fair, there was a definite lean in the favor of the Philadelphia Phillies.
    No one cared.
    The truth was, team allegiance within the sport was flexible. You were devoted to your team so long as you were playing for them, but everyone knew you might being wearing Pirates black-and-yellow one day, then Mets blue-and-orange the next. Most of them had grown up as baseball fans in their youth, having diehard fan devotion for a specific club. Tucker—born and raised on a farm in Kansas—had grown up loving the Cincinnati Reds.
    Devotions tended to change with the paycheck.
    Barrett poured beers for everyone, and they settled into friendly banter about how the first day had gone. Drinking at night after practice wasn’t a custom, but they liked to do it every so often throughout training to keep the mood light and fun. With a long season ahead of them—one that would test their endurance and push them to their physical limits—there was the strong likelihood they’d lose some long-time friends before the trade deadline.
    Playing baseball was a lot like going to war sometimes.
    Tucker was in the middle of a sip of beer when all masculine attention seemed to pivot towards the door. Chet let out a low, appreciative whistle and said, “It should be illegal for her to look that good.” He gave a sad shake of the head. “Like being on a diet and her being a damn plate of doughnuts.”
    The men nodded with grumbled agreement, and Tucker followed their rapt gazes across the room.
    Emmy Kasper had walked in, wearing low, tight jeans and a black V-neck T-shirt, a light jacket slung over her arm. She wasn’t dressed provocatively or even inappropriately. Only a thin band of skin showed at her waist when she raised her arm to wave at someone, yet everyone was gawking at her like she’d shown up in a tube top and miniskirt.
    Chet was right, though. She looked so good it ought to be illegal. Her hair was out of the ponytail now, hanging in long beachy waves down to the middle of her back, and she wore more makeup than she had during training. Not a lot, mind you, but enough to make her…
    Dangerous.
    So very dangerous.
    Emmy noticed their entire table staring at her and became visibly uncomfortable for a moment, then gave them all a friendly wave. Maybe it was Tucker’s wishful thinking, but he thought her expression lightened considerably when she saw him.
    Had to be wishful thinking.
    She angled her way towards the table and was halfway though the room when a diminutive blonde with round cheeks and an enormous grin grabbed Emmy by