Me: Any chance for a repeat tonight?
God, I feel so self-conscious. It’s like I’m fourteen again, passing a note to the cute boy I like, asking him if he likes me back.
Ground Man: Afraid not. Work has me all tied up until I leave to go home.
Me: Bummer.
Ground Man: I travel quite a bit. Maybe I’ll see you again.
Me: Maybe.
Sighing, I turn off my phone and shove it back in my pocket. I knew last night was a one-time thing, but it still sucks. I’ve never experienced sex like that. It’s going to be difficult to find someone who can measure up to Ground Man, and I don’t know how to feel about that.
“I liked the protein bowl,” Max says loudly, and my eyes snap to his. I hadn’t heard him approach, so engrossed in feeling sorry for myself and my needy pussy.
“Good for you. Expecting an award or medal now, Sunshine?” I snap. Standing, I motion around the room for the last few stragglers to focus. “Attention, everyone! Max Callahan ate something healthy, he liked it, and he didn’t die! A round of applause for the jerk.” Then I proceed to slow clap.
“That was unnecessary,” he growls. “I figured you should know for the future.”
“Yeah, at this point, I really don’t care what you like,” I sass. “You better eat every last crumb of whatever I give you, or I’ll make sure you don’t play one inning for months.”
“Jesus. Aren’t you dramatic this morning,” he mumbles, then walks out of the room.
As I watch him stride out of the room, his gait strikes me. I notice his head is down, shoulders hunched, and he makes no effort to speak to anyone. I feel a tiny prick of guilt over our entire interaction, but I don’t have time to focus on it. I need to get busy with work, so I can stop thinking about my amazing one-night stand … and I also need to get Max out of my mind.
I hadto get the hell out of there.
Kale Kween is Layla. Layla is Kale Kween.
What are the fucking chances? I mean, knowing Layla’s job, her affinity for all things healthy, and the fact that she was in Chicago for business, I guess I should have put two and two together earlier than I did.
But the sex … Jesus, the sex. Mind-blowing. Spectacular. Awesome. Pick any adjective and shove it in here. Layla was so damn responsive. I doubt she even knows half the sounds she makes.
I should have left the minute I realized it was her. I know that. But I simply couldn’t. I had a taste of her, and I had to get more. She might be the only drug I’ll ever crave.
I want to stare at her. Watch her every move. Learn all the things. But I know she hates me, and when she finds out I realized it was her and still fucked her? There’s no chance for me. Yet I’m still drawn to her. Maybe that’s why we’ve argued so much. I’ve known the heat was there, right under the surface, dangerously close to erupting.
I’m not busy tonight. I’m half tempted to message her again and tell her I can meet up. Maybe the sex was so good I need it again, and then it’ll be out of my system.
But I know this has disaster written all over it. I’m pretty sure one of the guys mentioned that there are rules for team employees anyway, and they could risk termination if they’re caught canoodling with players. Knowing how Coach feels about me, though, makes me think he’d trade me and keep Layla. I’ve got one year left on my contract, and I’m not ready to think about moving on or retiring yet.
Layla Holmes will only cause trouble in my life, and I need to move on, even if my body seems rooted in the pull to throw her over my shoulder and make a run for it.
I got a home run.
Coincidence, right?
No chance it’s related to Layla. Or her food.
I think.
“Man, that was a doozy,” Jake says, smiling at me in the locker room after the game. “About hit it out of the ballpark. Absolute beauty.”
There are times when a home run does qualify as beautiful. Sometimes it just barely makes it over the wall or misses the foul ball line by inches. But times like tonight, when it’s smooth as it sails straight through the center, and the crystal clear smack of the ball against the bat, are when it’s plain beautiful.
“When’s the last time you got a homer like that?” Nathan Bennett, a rookie first baseman, asks.
I stop what I’m doing to think. I’ve never been one to brag about statistics, but I’ve always had a good track record with homeruns. But tonight, I honestly can’t remember the last time I had a homer as good as this one. “I can’t remember one like that. Could be it has slipped my mind, or maybe it’s never happened to me before.”
