“I like this one.”
I scrambled to cover the page because in among all the logos were tiny little hearts around Penn’s name copied over and over. It seemed that along with getting fake married today, it appeared I’d also gone back in time and was fifteen again.
I let out a huff, realizing it was useless and he’d seen everything, given the dark smile he was sporting. I kept hold of my dignity by pretending nothing had happened.
“I like that one too,” I replied, trying not to meet his eye, and watched him pull out the chair opposite me.
His arms linked casually behind his head, and it took all my willpower not to stare at the way his biceps flexed because I knew that’s exactly what he wanted. I’d roll my eyes at how smug he was if he didn’t have a point.
“What’s that?” He nodded to another pad of paper on which I’d been writing a list of things to ask him, based on what I’d found in the books I’d been reading.
“Questions for you.” I pushed it over the table to him.
His left eyebrow rose higher the further he scanned down the list. “A mascot?”
I nodded. “Yes. I think we need to bring back Larry the Lion.”
From what I could tell, the Lion’s mascot, Larry, was introduced in the early fifties, but he disappeared sometime in the mid-seventies and was never seen again. I couldn’t remember hearing anything on the tour about whether they’d gotten a new one, and I hadn’t noticed anything around the stadium.
He ran his fingers along his jawline while he contemplated. “Maybe we should rename him.”
“Lucian?” I teased, trying to suppress a smile.
Penn’s head fell back in a loud laugh I’d never heard from him before, and it suddenly made me wonder if this was a Penn that most people saw; that the Penn I usually spent time with - albeit briefly - was someone else entirely.
“Oh, he’d love that,” he grinned, showing off a perfect set of teeth, his grey eyes shining brighter the longer he considered it. “Yes, we should do that. You really think the fans would like it? The Yankees don’t have a mascot.”
I sat back and looked at him, firmly. “You cannot build this team to be like The Yankees. You have to be different, or you’ll never beat them.”
He rolled his lips but stayed silent, which I saw as an opportunity to continue.
“You need to think about all the ways The Yankees frustrated you, and fix it for this club. Buck seemed to have a lot to say about what was wrong.”
“He did, didn’t he?” Penn’s expression became serious and he leaned across the table, letting out a deep sigh. “I liked him a lot though, and everything he said was true. The fans here have a lot of heart. They really feel the pain but they’re undeniably loyal, even after the rough ride they’ve been having. This team isn’t the best team, it doesn’t have the worldwide recognition of The Yankees or The Dodgers, or the bank balance, but that’s what makes it special. The fans love it despite all that, and I want to make it better for them. I’m going to make it right, and I’m going to have it winning again.”
He glanced down at his phone screen as it buzzed again, distracting us both; it must have been the fifth time in the last few minutes.
“Who keeps texting you?” I snapped before I could stop myself, even though I wanted and also not wanted to know the answer in equal measure.
It was undoubtedly one of the many girls in his never-ending fan-club. The one I appeared to have joined; the membership fee of which seemed to be an unwelcome burst of jealousy hitting me directly in the gut.
He gave a wry smile, turning the screen to show me a string of messages. “Jupiter.”
I scrolled up. The messages all contained one single name, all different. That was it, just names. I counted out fifteen of them.
“Who are they?”
“Players he wants me to look at for the new team.”
My mouth dropped slightly. “Wow, really? That’s amazing!”
Jupiter Reeves was moving to New York City. Now that was something that would have the pulses rising among the female population, even I knew it and I didn’t follow sports. I was merely a woman, with eyes, and Jupiter Reeves was… mmmmm… just mmmmm… something about the brooding, the constant scowl, the tattoos...
It was unsurprising that when his billboard for Gucci underwear went up along Sunset Boulevard it had caused so many rear-ender traffic accidents that it was taken down after twenty-four hours.
My thoughts about Jupiter were cut in half by the glower currently being shot my way by Penn.
“What?”
