Caleb's Choice

Chapter 1-2

The mood in the locker room was not exactly celebratory as they tried to deal with the fact that they’d lost 9 to 4. Earlier, when they had lined up to shake hands with the other team, some of the Lions had not even bothered to contain their laughter as they ribbed them about the loss and the new uniforms. All in all, it had been humiliating.

When Caleb had arrived at Juan, the bastard had smiled at him and gripped his hand a little too tight. It wasn’t until Caleb had moved on that he realized Juan had slipped a small piece of paper into his palm, which he’d quickly tucked into his waistband.

Now, he was itching to read the note, but couldn’t chance it in the locker room. He stripped, slipped the note into his locker, and headed to the showers along with the rest of his dejected teammates.

“Damn!” Frank shouted. “We sucked today.”

A murmur of agreement passed through the group as they began to shower.

Caleb braced his hands against the wall and dropped his head, letting the warm water run over his shoulders and down his back. Three years ago, when he had first started playing in the minors, the showers were his greatest fear, and of course, his greatest fantasy. Surrounded by so many naked men, he was concerned he would get an erection and out himself.

The funny thing was, once he was on the team and knew the guys, he looked at them as brothers and had never worried about it again. Not that he didn’t sneak a peek once in a while. He was human, after all.

“Who the f**k is Lucas Landry?”

“Who?” Caleb asked, turning to Jeff.

“The announcer. He didn’t seem to know anything about baseball and he was really ragging on us at the end.”

Caleb shrugged. To be honest, he hadn’t paid much attention after the first couple of innings. The guy’s voice was sexy as hell, but even that hadn’t been enough to distract Caleb from the miserable game.

“Team, shake a leg,” Coach Newberry hollered. “Meeting in ten.”

They groaned, but Caleb knew it was inevitable. They were going to get bitched at for their piss-poor performance. Hmm, maybe they’ll be known as the Triple-P team instead of a Triple-A team from now on. He rolled his eyes at his own lame joke as he squirted shampoo into his hand.