By the time three o'clock rolled around, the duo could honestly say they really liked each other. All their adventures to local hot spots had been successful and memorable. They were also thankful that no one had recognized either. Roosevelt had trumped up their luck to how ridiculous they'd acted, while Christian believed that it was simple divine providence. 

  Roosevelt dropped him off at the hotel and headed for the coliseum. She needed to change and prepare for BP.  Luckily, the coliseum wasn't that busy yet, only a few tailgaters had set up to prepare for the game. It was easy for her to find parking in the employee/player lot. Grabbing her gym bag, she headed in, changed into her Athletic's UA short sleeve shirt and green and black work out leggings, and began preparing for the game. As she set up her table up and off to the side, she spotted a few players trickling out and onto the field. She waved at Chapman, Semien, and Davis. Chapman gave her a side hug as the other staff set up BP. Noticing her change in complexion, he joked. "What up? You wearing make-up now?" She smacked his arm in reply, mostly to deflect. She wasn't wearing any bronzer. Christian had made her glow.

"Doc." The gravelly voice of the Skipper beckoned her to him. Giving Chapman and others a nod, she greeted, "Yes, Skipper?"

"After last night's demonstration, would you mind pitching batting practice? I'm tired, and I need Aldrete on a different assignment." 

"Really?!" She howled with excitement and turning to the boys, she whooped, "Batting practice bitches!" 

"Please don't hit them." Bob Melvin muttered as he turned to take a call. 

Grinning from ear to ear, she began tossing to Phegley who had a night-off but offered to help her warm up. She'd moved herself back slightly than the normal set up. She wasn't good at tossing the ball; she had to throw.

"You've got quite the arm." Josh shouted to her with a smile. 

"Who else would throw for Mattie when my dad had to work? Who's up first?" She asked with a forced smile. 

"Profar." Phegley answered in a slight twang and a genuine grin. 'Another southern boy'. He moved out of the way.

Batting practice was going well, until the end. Chappy was up, and the Brewers were arriving on the field. Chapman smirked at his best friend and taunted, "You've gotta be tired. Wanna call it?" 

Inwardly growling, she shook her head, and Phegley surprisingly threw her a sign from behind the netting. Smirking, she wound up, and let it fly. 

"Strike one!" Mattie called from behind the netting.  The A's players gathered as did some of the Brewer's players. She was focused; none of herself cared about who was watching. Phegley sent a message for a sinker. Changing her handling, she wound up and threw it hard. Chapman managed to get a piece, but it was foul. 

"C'mon Rosie, that all you got?" Chapman pushed with a smirk. 

"I'd shut up; you're behind 0-2." Semien commented with a worried look. This seemed like some weird, competitive friend shit gone awry. Christian watched the girl of dreams pitch a fastball, low and inside. Chapman had gotten another piece but nothing concrete. The catcher signed again--slider, and this time, she threw a pitch that most could not hit, and Chapman somehow knew it was coming. He batted it up and out to the left field bleachers. 

"Thanks Doc!" Chapman shouted with a grin. 

She threw a few more for him to get practice swings in, and then the spectacle ended. The A's receded to the clubhouse to prepare for the game. Christian had watched her head into the clubhouse briefly only to return with a wrapped arm, akin to a pitcher. 

"What the hell was she throwing?" Braun questioned with slight concern. 

"I'm gonna check. I've met her a few times." Pitcher Drew Pomeranz announced as he headed over to the dugout where the beauty was sipping Gatorade and clearly brooding. Christian watched with jealousy as Pomeranz carried on a friendly conversation with his woman. A part of him was mad that they hadn't discussed boundaries. Could he check on her? And her, him? Or did they have to pretend like they didn't make love and have an amazing afternoon together? 

Drew returned with a sad smile. "She overthrew with Chapman. The gun caught her hitting 72mph." 

"Damn." Josh Hader commented as he walked by. Christian sent her a worried look. She easily caught it and gave him a reassuring smile. 

As the Brewers began their batting practice, Roosevelt couldn't help but watch. The NL team possessed many talented players. Plus, she wanted to see Christian bat. Batting practice and game time were vastly different. She had fiddled with her phone as she waited.

Towards the end, it was his turn. She was truly intrigued, so she moved to sit in the bullpen area to get a good view.

 As the coach tossed, Christian sent them to Mexico with ease. Why had she not noticed his talent in the MLB before this moment? He was the 2018 NL MVP, silver slugger, and more. But to her, he was Christian who loved Italian food and visiting Paris. She was keenly aware of every muscle he moved to make those hits, and a part of her was flustered. 

'You're at work.' She reminded herself as he continued to bat exceedingly well. 

Once he was done, she sent him a 'cheers' with her Gatorade bottle which he readily returned with his own. Not many noticed, but one of the A's players did—Brett Anderson had come out to begin warm-ups. 

"Wanna explain the fraternizing with the enemy?" He challenged with smiling eyes. The older pitcher had already pegged them last night. They had both left in her truck. 

"The dude had an amazing BP." She retorted in a nonchalant manner. Brett took a seat beside her and pressed, "Is that why he left with you last night?"

Busted. Glaring at the dirt in front of her, she smoothly replied, "I adjusted him. He hurt his back trying to stop Mattie yesterday. They don't have a traveling chiro. I offered." 

"Uh huh, and that's why he can't help but glance over here every five minutes?" She was beat. Conceding her position, she switched to begging, "Please don't say anything. I really like him." 

The pitcher chuckled at her, "I'm not saying diddly jack, but you better get your shit sorted before game time. The boys are fighting for a spot in the post season, they need all the weird stuff you do. And I should warn you that getting involved with a baseball superstar is cautionary in of itself."

"Brett, he's--"

"I get it. He might be the one; who knows? But for tonight, he's no one. Got it? Now, help an old man stretch?" Silently nodding, she took off her sling and began to help him stretch. As game time neared, the players returned in their uniforms—running the drills and stretches that she had planned for them. However, toward the end, she noticed that Semien and Profar were engaged in a one-upping dance/baseball moves battle in left field. 

"Boys! Let's not hurt ourselves before game time, eh?" She warned with an amused smile. 

"We'll stop if you do one of your tumbling routines." Profar stated with a knowing look at Semien. He'd seen her do them before, and it'd take the crowd to the next level.  Roosevelt inwardly sighed. Why had she demonstrated for the boys when she first arrived? 'Because they didn't believe that Gabby Douglas had taught you how.'

"I already pushed it with the pitching--" She tried to get out of it. No more showing off. She'd done enough today.

"DOC! DOC! DOC!" Left field bleachers were going wild. Looking up at the crowd and pushing passed the worry in her mind, she stared determinedly at the grass field before her. Meanwhile, the chanting caused the Brewers to look over to left field. They could see the female trainer scolding Profar and Semien, then the two men stepped aside, and crowd roared even more. Christian easily threw to Cain who threw to Braun. The trio stopped for a moment to watch the fanfare. While the Brewer fanbase was loyal, it was nowhere near Oakland's. The players watched as the Olympian took a running leap into a somersault that morphed into a few back flips and ended with a full twist. She landed with ease causing the crowd to lose it. The fit trainer bowed animatedly before the left field bleachers who readily responded with drumbeats and shouts of acclamations. 

"Damn. What can't she do?" Cain rhetorically asked. 'Bake.' He thought instantly, but Christian simply shrugged and returned his attention to warming up. He mentally committed to stretching more. His mind flashed to their time in Hayward's Japanese Garden where Roosevelt had advised about the various pitfalls that usually hit baseball players. 

"Extra stretching? Good." Their trainer commented. Ryan Braun scoffed at the nonchalance, while the Brewers could clearly see the female trainer checking in with each individual player—many different handshakes were displayed but none were so gratuitous as the one shared by the Olson siblings. The A's camera zeroed in on the siblings. It was a full minute of sibling bonding causing the crowd to go wild. 

Waving, Roosevelt headed into the clubhouse to grab another ice pack. She had over done it. 

'Dammit.' She thought angrily at herself. For the next day or so, cooking and working out would be difficult. Returning to the dugout, she realized that she'd missed nearly everything, and Brett Anderson was taking the mound. 

Cain was up first. The first pitch was hit out of the park. It was a big fly, way back. "Damn." She muttered with annoyance. The game went like that for a time. Milwaukee had great defense this game. Top of the third, Christian was up to bat, and he hit a triple sending his teammate home. His 81st RBI. Inside, she was proud of him; outwardly, she looked distressed at the game's stance. By the end of the night, the Brewers had won 4-2. 

As she moved amongst the boys in green, she murmured encouraging words, and they gave her grateful looks and nods. Luckily, no one had any pressing injuries, so she was free to head out. Slinging her bag over her left shoulder, she moved toward her truck.  A hot shower and the rest of that bottle of wine was calling her name. It wasn't that she didn't want to see Christian; she just physically hurt. The parking lot was quiet. "Bless." She muttered to the emptiness. 

Climbing in, she heard her phone ping. 

Christian♥️: Can I get a ride? 😉

Roosevelt: Hurry up. There's a bottle of wine calling my name.