Page 108 of Elevator Pitch

His lids lower, eyes narrowing. “Is this a romance novel thing?”

Ignoring the tease, I continue. “Leader of the pack.”

He stares at me.

“And as such, you decide who stays or goes. Who plays or sits.”

“You’re saying I should bench Valdez.”

“I’m saying, he needs a lesson in teamship.”

“I don’t think that’s a word.”

Forgiving his vocabulary correction, I carry on. “And as the coach, you need to mentor him. Teach an old dog new tricks.”

“We’re back to the dog allegory?” he teases, his mouth slowly crooking up on one side.

“Show him what it means to be a good team member.”

“How?” Ross sighs. “Suggest not sleeping with your teammate’s wife.”

“He did that?” I sit taller, astonished by that news. Maybe I’d heard hints of such a thing happening, but who can believe what social media says, especially the clock app running rampant with rumors, thinking they created someone’s fame and then undoubtedly ruining it.

Ross doesn’t answer me, but his eyes confirm what I once thought was gossip.

“Well, in that case, off with his head.” I chop the side of one hand against the palm of the other. “He’s out of the pack. Left to starve on his own.”

“Is this a pep talk?” Ross chuckles a little deeper this time. “Somehow, I don’t think Valdez will starve. For attention or otherwise.”

“Babe, you’re in charge either way. If he doesn’t align with your goals for the team, or the professional image you want to portray, cut him loose.”

“Say that again.” Slowly, the corner of his mouth curls higher and he takes a step closer to the bed where I sit.

“If he doesn’t align—”

“Not that part.”

“Oh, was cutting him loose too harsh?”

Ross leans forward, his face drawing closer to mine as he spreads his arms and braces a hand on either side of me on the bed. His voice drops. “Not that part either.”

I swallow at his nearness, inhaling the scent of his body wash lingering on him. “You’re in charge?”

“I liked hearing that, too, but I meant the first word.” He smiles wide, like the Cheshire cat.

“Babe?”

His grin holds. His eyes dance. “Now say it like you mean it.”

“You want me to call you babe?”

He shrugs, lowering his gaze, and suddenly retreating from me, like he’s embarrassed he wants to be called an endearment. His vulnerability has me reaching out and clasping the back of his neck, so he can’t get too far from me.

“I like when you call me sweetheart. And I’m happy to call you babe, babe.”

“Now you’re making fun of me.” He scowls, leaning back against my hand like he wants to break free off my hold.

“Babe,” I whisper. “Kiss me.”