I got all the way to my car before I realized they weren’t in my pocket. It was all too perfect to listen to Layla talk to her mom and hear how much she hates the peach-related nicknames. I bet her blood fully boiled when I called her Peaches.
Honestly, it fits her.
Layla always has a sweet smell to her. While not necessarily fruity, she routinely smells of sweetness and makes me want to find out what her skin tastes like. Gobble her up like a peach. See if her center is as warm and supple as I imagine it to be.
It’s a complete coincidence that I have recurring dreams about peaches the rest of the week after my run-in with Layla, and that I add a peach-scented body wash to my grocery order. I won’t elaborate on how many showers I took either, but it’s hard to look Layla in the eye when we have our first meeting to discuss my meal plan.
“How about we agree that I can plan my own meals, and you tell Coach I’m a team player? Then we stay out of each other’s way,” I say, my eyes darting everywhere around the conference room, except at her. Because I can’t look at her. If she catches mygaze, she’ll just know I jacked off a gazillion times to her scent, right?
“I will not lie to the coach, Max,” she says quietly.
“Why not?” I ask belligerently. God, I know I sound like a petulant asshole. “I’m making your life easier. One less athlete to keep track of. You can focus on the young ones who still drink their weight in Coors Light.”
“You’re the only one who is making it difficult, you know. Everyone else has been a breeze to work with. Why is that?” Layla’s voice is pleasant and airy. I’m sure if anyone walked past the wall of windows and looked into the conference room, they’d see Layla looking pristine and poised, whereas I probably look like a jerk with a chip on my shoulder.
“How the hell would I know? Do you give them as much shit as you do me?”
“No, but none of them treat me like you do,” she answers evenly.
“What the hell does that mean?” I ask. “You’re saying that every other guy on this team treats you like a princess or something?”
“No. But they do treat me with respect.”
Wait. What? “You think I don’t respect you?”
Layla cocks her head to the side as she studies me. “How else would you describe it? You refuse to work with me. You speak poorly of my position to anyone who brings me up. Did you think I didn’t know that? Multiple people have told me what you think of my job, and of me as a person. This isn’t a big jump for me to assume you don’t respect me, Max.”
I’m speechless, and I feel like an absolute idiot.
It’s not that I don’t respect Layla. I don’t know enough about her to say that. But I’m a stubborn ass, and I don’t like someone coming in with the idea to change everything about my day-to-day life. Have I really spoken poorly about her to others? I barely talk to anyone, so where is she getting this information? “Who told you that I’ve talked about you?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes, it does,” I answer with a vehement nod. “I don’t talk to people, Peaches. I don’t have friends here. Well, except maybe Jake Holloway, but I think he’s the kind of guy who forces friendship onto everyone. So I need to know who is talking aboutmebehindmyback.”
“Ahh,” she says. “It’s not about me. It’s really about you. Honestly? That tracks.”
Heat crawls up my neck as I roughly scratch at my beard. “That’s … that’s not what I meant. Someone in the Clubhouse is spreading rumors.”
Layla raises a brow at me. “You’re saying you haven’t talked about me?”
“No.” I pause. “I don’t think I have. And you’re saying multiple people have told you this? That’s fucked up. No wonder this club sucks.”
Layla gasps. “Did you speak so poorly about your last team? Or are we just super lucky to have you here in all your glory?”
I throw up my hands in frustration. “You’re misinterpreting my words. When a team has a bad seed, it grows and festers. It slowly takes root, bringing the whole team down. I don’t want to be part of a team that lets this kind of thing happen.”
“You’re the newest on the team, Mr. Callahan,” Layla says coolly, her gaze sharp as she purses her lips at me. Arms crossed and legs spread apart, she looks calm, but her body almost vibrates with energy. Me suggesting the team sucks because someone is spreading gossip has really struck a nerve with her. “Has it occurred to you that you might be the bad seed? Why’d your old team give you the old heave-ho anyway?”
I sigh. “I don’t know. Are we here to discuss meal plans or something?”
“No.”
“No?” I ask hopefully, wondering if maybe she’ll agree to lie to Coach so we don’t have to work together.
“No. I’m not working with you until you make an actual effort to get to know some of the guys on the team. It’s clear you thinkyou’re better than everyone, but a quick look at your batting average tells me that is definitely not true.” Layla turns away, and my mouth drops open in shock.
“Hey, wait a minute! You seriously can’t be suggesting I have to make friends in order to work with you!”
