“Ah, Willow. Thank you.” Uncle Mike walks over and drapes his arm over my shoulder, guiding me closer to the others. “Ronan, Gage, this is my niece Willow, from our media relations team. You’ll get to know her quite well, as she’s very hands on.”
Oh God, shut up, Uncle Mike.I manage a polite laugh, shaking hands with Ronan’s agent before finally turning to him. Here we go. “Ronan, welcome to Vancouver.” I put out my hand, and the second his much larger one engulfs mine, I know I’m in trouble.
Deep blue eyes, eyes that have seen all of me, in every possible way, sweep up and down my body. His tongue darts out and licks his lips. Lips that I still remember feeling whisper across my skin. And when he speaks, the voice that growled out the dirtiest of dirty talk reverberates through me with one simple statement.
“Thank you, Willow. Happy to be here.”
Chapter eleven
Ronan
Happy to be here?Seriously? I guess that’s the best I can come up with when faced with the surprise of a fucking lifetime. Holy shit, I was not prepared for this. For her.
Here I am, shaking her hand, probably looking like a complete idiot. But I can’t stop staring at the woman who has haunted my dreams for months.
What the fuck is she doing here? Then all the pieces fall into place. How knowledgeable she was about baseball, and just now, the team’s owner introduced her as a member of the media relations staff. The little minx never told me she worked for a goddamn major league team. Suddenly her hesitation in getting close to me in Hawaii makes a little bit more sense.
Then the other thing Mike Cartwright said when he introduced her comes flashing back to me. His niece. I fucked the niece of the man who owns me for the next five goddamn years. The man who could make or break my future.
Fucking fuck.
Even as my pulse races and my mind spins in circles, I can’t help but steal glances at her, drinking in her beauty. It doesn’t take a genius to deduce from her body language and the way she greeted me that Willow doesn’t want anyone finding out we know each other on a personal level, and I’ll respect that. Honestly, it’s probably for the best. But damn, she’s more stunning than I remember. Even if she does look so very different from the relaxed, vacation Willow I knew. This version of her in heels and a tight pencil skirt is sexy as fuck.
I only realize I’ve been ogling her when I get a not-so-subtle elbow in my side from Gage.
“We just need your signature Ronan, then we can go get the circus over with.” For a sports agent, Gage hates the media more than he probably should. There’s no missing the derision in his voice, and Willow catches it, judging by the slight frown that crosses her face.
A frown I want to smooth away. But I’ve got no right, and no reason, to do that.
Honestly, of all the teams I could have been traded to, Vancouver wasn’t high on my list. Hell, I didn’t want to be traded at all, but the offer the Tridents made was one I couldn’t turn down. The chance at a long-term contract, one I could possibly extend for the remainder of my career, depending on how long I play, was one I couldn’t say no to.
Peyton first, baseball second. That’s the way it has been, and the way it has to be.
Which is why I have to push aside this adrenaline rush I’m feeling just from the surprise of seeing Willow again and put on my game face. A mask of cool professionalism with a hint of pro-athlete arrogance the media eats up. We go into the other room where a crowd of reporters are waiting. Questions about my move across the country are thrown at me, and I answer them with ease.
Until one.
“What excites you the most about relocating to the West Coast?”
An innocent question and one I had a ready-made answer for. Except now, that answer is different. I just can’t say therealreason I’m excited to be out west. Because the truth is, even though I don’t have time for a relationship and know I need to keep my distance from Willow, seeing her again was like a jolt of electricity running through my body. Lighting up parts that have been dim for so long.
“The warmer weather, of course,” I say with a cocky smirk at the reporter who asked. But my eyes betray me as my gaze darts over to the side where Willow stands, looking at something on her phone.
The press conference wraps up pretty quickly after that, and Willow disappears before I can get free. One of the assistant coaches shows up to take me around the stadium and facilities on a quick tour we didn’t have time for before the conference, and I find myself glancing down hallways and into offices, desperate for a glimpse of her.
With spring training starting up in just over a month, there’s not a lot of players around. Just the ones who didn’t travel for the offseason. But when we enter the gym filled with top-of-the-line equipment, walls lined with mirrors, and a sound system pumping out rock music, a couple of guys notice our arrival.
“Ronan Sinclair. Nice to have you on board.” Dan Montgomery, one of the catchers and a local Vancouver guy from what I recall reading through the player roster to familiarize myself with my new teammates, comes over to shake my hand. “Call me Monty. Only my mom calls me Dan.”
“And Lark,” another guy calls out as he ambles over. He’s got a southern accent, deep enough to make it clear he’s not from here. “Rhett Darlington. Pleasure to meet ya. Call me Rhett, or Darlin'.”
“Nice to meet you both. Call me Sin, or Ronan is fine. And who’s Lark?” I ask, curiosity getting the better of me. To my surprise, Monty blushes a deep red as Rhett just grins.
“You’ll meet her soon. One of the best trainers out there, the woman can fix just about anything. Unfortunately for our friend Monty, she’s very much unavailable. And he very much wishes she wasn’t.”
“Shut up,” Monty mumbles, scrubbing his hand over his face. I glance over at Harvey, the assistant coach escorting me around, but given the smirk he’s fighting back, it seems everyone is aware of Monty’s crush on the unavailable trainer. In a way, I can relate to the guy, seeing as the only woman I’ve had any interest in for years has also made it clear she’s unavailable.
“Sorry man, that’s a shitty situation,” I say.
