The Cleat Retreat

It was the curveball I never saw coming.The only thing worse than almost dying as a child¿ surviving. Now, hear me out. I was very much happy to be alive. It was the constant need to feel grateful for something I had no control over¿ that grated on me.I'd become so passive in my own life that when my boyfriend proposed, I couldn't remember what I liked about him outside of his dimple. I mean, it was cute. But enough to marry someone? Nah.I hadn't meant to be a runaway bride, but here I was, all dressed in white and escaping the baseball diamond like my life depended on it. Just a good old cleat retreat.Landing in my brother's best friend's car was a nice surprise. Spending the next twenty-four hours with him¿even better. Maybe I could convince him to rid me of my pesky virginity once and for all. Besides, I knew the score, and he never played for keeps. He was the one who'd coined the term cleat retreat in the first place.A virginal bride and a grumpy, tatted baseball player sharing one bed. What could possibly go wrong?