The Cleat Retreat

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?