Suddenly his body just … moved. It happened so fast, I barely saw Brax slam Kelsy’s head, face-down, against the hood of my truck. Kelsy let out a yell, then swore. Brax lifted Kelsy’s head by his hair and slammed it down again. He held him there, by the back of his neck, with Kelsy hollering to let him up. Only then did Brax look at me. He had a fresh shiner around one slightly swollen eye. His lip was busted. The features I’d found so disturbingly charming were now edged in fury. Anger rolled off him in waves, and then he turned away. He spoke to me, but he didn’t look at me anymore. He kept his gaze fixed on the back of Kelsy’s head. “Go wait by my bike, Gracie. Now.”

I’d started shaking, and I couldn’t stop. “No,” I said quietly. My breath came in quick gasps, and I placed my hand on Brax’s arm, gently closed my fingers. His skin felt warm, the muscles there tense and solid as strips of steel. I didn’t want to let go. “Please, don’t.” My eyes drifted to Kelsy, his face turned to the side and pinned to the hood of my truck. “Let’s just go.”

“Let me the f**k up!” Kelsy grunted. “What’s your fuckin’ problem, man? Olivia, call off your goddamn mutt—”

Kelsy’s words were silenced by the metal hood of my truck. He groaned, swore, but it was muffled by the pressure Brax was exerting.

“Back up, Gracie,” Brax said. Still, he didn’t look at me. His voice was quiet. Controlled. He wasn’t letting Kelsy go.

I dropped Brax’s arm and backed away.

Brax flipped Kelsy around and dragged him up by the neck of his tee shirt. Then he put a grip to his throat and jaw, pulling him closer. Kelsy took a swing at Brax and missed. Brax pushed his forehead against Kelsy’s. “You touch her again and I will f**k you up.” Brax turned Kelsy’s throat loose, but still crowded him, nearly head to head. Brax shouldered him. Stared him down. But didn’t say another word.

Kelsy pushed away, slinging his arms and swearing. Blood trickled from his nose and down his chin. His gaze slowly veered toward me, then he turned his head and spit on the ground. “She’s not who you think she is, bro.” Then he spun around, jogged across the parking lot and disappeared between the buildings.

Kelsy’s words turned my insides cold, hollow, and I wanted to shrink into the concrete where I stood. Humiliation made me speechless, made me weak in the knees, and I didn’t know what to do or where to go. I just wanted to crawl in a hole and be left alone. Be forgotten about. Run away. Tears burned the back of my eyelids, my throat. Brax had witnessed everything. Had heard everything. He’d find out about me now, about what’d happened, and how I’d lied over and over to cover the truth. Is that why I was being punished? For the lies?

Jesus God, how had this nightmare followed me to Winston? How had I thought for even a second that I could put it all behind me? That Kelsy would just leave me alone?

In the next instant warm, strong hands grasped both sides of my face and stilled my shaking body, forced me to look up. Brax pressed his forehead to mine, and everything else around me shut down. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here, baby,” he whispered against my skin. The air became as still as my breath. There was nothing but Brax. He stood there, his head pressed against mine, saying nothing, yet being everything I needed just then. My breath slowed, and my fingers gripped his forearms.

“It’s okay,” I answered. “I’m glad you’re here now.” I swallowed hard. “About what Kelsy said?”

He pulled back, just a fraction, and looked at me with a fierce intensity that made my body tremble even more. “I know all I need to know about you, Olivia Grace Beaumont.” He tilted my head, ever so slightly to the left, and his lips hovered over mine. “Everything.”

The word brushed across my mouth like a whisper, and he kissed me, his full lips settling over mine, staking claim, and me allowing it. Slowly, I slipped my arms around his neck, my fingers in his hair, and held on.

Footsteps hurrying across the parking lot broke us apart.

“Guys, what happened?” Tessa said, breathless. I turned to see her bending over at the knees, sucking in air. “Someone banged on our door and said Brax was down here kicking some guy’s ass. Guess you didn’t notice the audience of girls on the walkway?” She looked at Brax. “Kudos, gringo. I think I like you a little more now.”

“That was no ass kicking,” Brax clarified. His arm was around my shoulders, pulling me to him, and I could feel his heart thumping against my ear. “That was just a fuckin’ warning.”

Tessa’s worried and curious gaze drifted to mine. “What the hell, Olivia?”

“It’s okay,” I told her. I straightened, pulling slightly away from Brax’s protective embrace, and smoothed the front of my sundress. Embarrassment over the whole situation started to settle in. I hid it with an assuring smile. “I’ll tell you about it when I get back.” When Tessa lifted a brow, I added, “Promise.”

“I’m gonna hold you to that, chica,” she said, and started heading back to the dorm. She threw up a wave. “Deuces.” We both stood there watching her in silence, before Brax pulled me to him and kissed my temple.

“Gracie, if you don’t feel like going—”

I looked at Brax, and shook my head. “No, I do. I’m fine, really.” My fingers reached for his, and I tangled them together. “I’m sorry you had to even see any of that. But I’m not sorry you stepped in.” I stretched to my tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “I’m far from being helpless, trust me. He just,” I looked away, then back into Brax’s intoxicating stare. “Caught me off guard. Thank you.”

His gaze remained steady on mine; I could tell he wanted to ask more, but held back. There was something else there, too. Something troubled. Unreadable.

“I’d have hurt him, Gracie.”

“I know.” Only then did I notice Brax’s top lip was busted. I pulled closer, peering at it, and grazed it lightly with my fingertip. “What happened this time?”

“Nothin’, sweetheart,” he answered. “Just a friendly tussle.”

“Kinda like medieval warriors, huh?” I said, brow raised.

Brax laughed. “Yeah, somethin’ like that.” He shot a glance across the parking lot, then looked at me. “Let’s take your truck. We’re headed to the sports complex.” He grinned. “I’ll drive.”

Still feeling a little shaky, I was glad for both requests. “Okay.”

Brax reached behind me and opened the truck door and, just as I turned to climb in, he grabbed me by the waist, faced him, and lifted me up, setting my bottom on the seat. I scooted to the middle, and he hopped up. “That’s far enough, Sunshine.” When I handed him the key, he shoved it in the ignition and turned it over. My pipes rumbled to life. The total guy smile that plastered his face made me roll my eyes.

“This tank is a fuckin’ beast!” he hollered. Then he draped an arm over my shoulder, pulled me against him, and we took off. My eyes drifted to Brax’s hand on the steering wheel, and I noticed the letters inked into his knuckles. Who in their right mind would ever cross him?

We pulled into the sports complex and Brax drove around to the back lot, behind the pavilions, grandstands and baseball diamond. There were several other cars and trucks, and Brax parked next to a restoration-in-progress 1970’s model Camaro. I recognized the year, the work. My brother Jace’d had one just like it.

“Looks like the beast is here. Good.” Brax said. He nodded toward the car. “That’s my first baseman’s ride.” He opened the door and reached for my hand to help me out. “It’s a work in progress.”

I stepped out and Brax closed the door. “So he’s the same one who duked your eye out before, and the dead sexy first baseman Tessa was talking about?”

“One in the same.” He tugged my hand, and passed me a sly grin. “Ever been in a batting cage, Sunshine?”

“I guess I haven’t,” I answered. “So why exactly did you want me to wear a dress to a batting cage?”

We hit the concrete walkway leading into the pavilion. Inside, it smelled of leather and wood and something I would dare label male. Brax grasped my chin and stared at me, his lip quirked. “Because there’s just something that appeals to me about a gorgeous girl in a dress swinging a baseball bat.” His eyes raked over me, just before he settled his mouth against mine. “Jesus Christ, you are so beautiful,” he whispered against me, and I shuddered. His lips were firm, warm, and moved with just a slight, simple claim that made my body feel weightless. When Brax pulled away, he stared down at me, and I stared back, barely able to breathe. From the intense expression I’d almost accuse him of having the same trouble as me. He inclined his head. “Come on.”

Brax led us up to a set of double doors, and when we pushed through it opened into another smaller entry room, the walls covered in baseball team banners. An older man, probably in his eighties, seated behind a counter and wearing a Winston’s Silverbacks hat, glanced up. A grin split his weathered face.

“Well, look who it is,” he said. His voice, gravelly and deep and thoroughly Texas, resonated off the walls. “The Yank with the hundred mile an hour fast ball. Nice lip you got there, boy. Looks a lot like Cory’s.”

“Hundred and one, and Cory’s face way worse.” Brax corrected. He pulled me next to him, and the old man’s eyes lighted on me. “Henry, this is Olivia Beaumont.” Brax inclined his head. “This is Henry ‘The Crook’ Johnson.” Brax leaned over to my ear. “King of the stolen bases in his day.” Though an innocent gesture, his warm breath against the shell of my ear made me shiver a little. I wondered if Brax noticed. If he realized the reaction he stirred within me by just his breath grazing me, he didn’t let on. My reaction seemed ridiculous, but unstoppable at the same time.

I gave Henry a warm smile and held my hand out to shake his. He grasped it, firm but gentle, and the mischievous glint in his green eyes belied his aged exterior.

“So you’re the one,” Henry said, gave a low whistle and eyed Brax. He dropped my hand. “You weren’t kiddin’, were you?” His gaze returned to mine. “Nice to meet you, darlin’. The boy here’s been non-stop gabbin’ about you for two solid weeks.” He leaned on his elbow. “Said the very first time he saw you he almost stopped breathin’.”

“Thanks, Henry.”

Henry grinned. “My pleasure, son.” He winked at me. “You two can take booth four, next to Cory. And no fightin’ in the booths.”

“Nice to meet you, Henry,” I offered, and smiled.

He gave a nod. “Hope to see you around here more often, darlin’.”

“Maybe.”

“All right, put your eyeballs back in their sockets, Henry,” Brax teased, and led me through the doors to a long row of side-by-side narrow batting cages. We stopped at booth four, and beside us in the next cage stood a giant in a batting stance, facing the pitching machine. When it spit out the pitch, the giant swung, and the sharp cracking sound made by the ball as the bat tore into it rung in my ears.

“Hey, man,” Brax said. “I got someone I want you to meet.”

The giant rose and stepped back off the plate, pressed a button on the wall and turned to face me. A partition of chain link separated us. He pushed his batting helmet off his forehead, and hazel eyes—one with a slight discoloration close to the cheek bone—regarded me closely. Easily six foot five if not more, and shoulders as broad as, well, my whole body it seemed. I couldn’t believe Brax walked away with only a split lip. Sandy-colored hair flipped up from under his hat in the back. Strong jaw, athletic build. Or, in Tessa’s exact words, dead sexy. She was right. He was. And by the lines between his brows he didn’t appear to be extremely happy to meet me.

“This is Olivia,” Brax said. “Cory Maxwell, my freakishly large first baseman.”

“Hey,” I said. I held his gaze, refusing to turn from his scrutinizing stare. Maybe he was just in a bad mood because he wasn’t over his girlfriend yet? He could still be frazzled from the tussle, too.

“Hi,” he said curtly, with a quick nod.

“I really love your car,” I offered. “My brother used to have one similar.” Although I had to wonder how he folded all that length into a Camaro.

Something sparked in his eyes, but diffused quickly. “Thanks.” He looked at Brax, then inclined his head to the plate. “Gotta get back to this.”

“Sure thing, Beast.”

And without another word, he pushed something on the wall, snugged his batting helmet down and a ball flew in his direction. He swung with enough strength to take someone’s head off.

“Come on, Gracie,” Brax said. I saw a hint of something in his eyes, too. Disappointment? Guilt? It was gone too fast for me to decipher, and then he slipped me that heart-stopping smile and I couldn’t do anything more except concentrate on standing upright. “Watch me hit a few first, then you can try.” He handed me his Silverback’s hat and stepped into our booth. I watched in awe as Winston’s bad boy grabbed a batting helmet off the wall, a bat from the corner of the booth, and punched the start button. He hunkered into his batting stance, and when the machine pitched a fast ball, Brax’s swing was a mighty one. The bat and ball connected with a deafening thwack. He threw a grin over his shoulder and hit five more, over and over. His body was a powerhouse of ink and muscle and energy and strength, all channeled into a wooden bat to make the ball explode out of the end of it. Every muscle in his arms tightened, defined, and his tee shirt pulled taut over a broad chiseled back. For a fleeting second a thought burrowed into my head, making me wonder exactly what it was that made a guy like Brax Jenkins so attracted to me. I may never understand it.