Page 31 of Elevator Pitch

The pictures Vee might have seen were a gimmick, as we both attended a fundraiser for a children’s hospital separate from one another. An event scheduled long before we broke up, otherwise Chandler wouldn’t have been in Chicago. I don’t pay attention to social media, but I can imagine what the reports might have speculated. A reunion between us, which was never going to happen.

Chandler is not invested in anything other than her career, which is her prerogative. But her drive to advance came some faulty characterizations about her. Like images that appear as if she’s compassionately speaking to a sick child in a hospital room when she’s really grumbling to the photographer to hurry up and take the picture, and then muttering about a foul smell as she exits the child’s room.

Or the fact she openly flirted with the younger members of my team when I brought her to a team function, but she’d staged photos of us to look like we were a devoted couple.

Vee, on the other hand, is a little more . . . real. Genuine. Curious. Quirky even, and I liked every trait. She’s like complementary contradictions on a coin. Confident while not full of herself. Funny while thoughtful. She’s sweet and sincere but I suspect beneath the wholesome vibe is a sensual, untamed wildcat. A good woman with a big heart and a dirty imagination. She’s a winning combination.

Was I being selfish like Chandler, though? Possibly. I would definitely owe Vee.

She’d asked what was in this proposition for her, and I didn’t have an answer. I’d been wracking my brain for a trade, but I couldn’t think of anything she’d need as compensation from me—a grumpy, growing-older guy, with two college aged kids, and a professional baseball team in need of some spirit lifting. Not to mention, pressure to succeed from a front office giving me a second chance to prove myself and a fanbase with legendary love for the Anchors.

Nope, not much to offer her.

She mentioned spring training season tickets. Attendance at the games sounded more like a consolation prize and wasn’t enough of an exchange. I needed something grander, but what?

There is no denying something powerful happened the night we spent together. Like tectonic plates shifting. It sounds absurd, but that night changed the trajectory of my life. Again.

I got the call from the Anchors within minutes of the Flash letting me go. Like, who would have even known I’d been released in the four-minute span? The news hadn’t broken in the sports media. There hadn’t been the typical chatter prior to the team firing me that would generate interest from another team possibly interested in hiring me.

Everything happened by chance. Happenstance.

And dammit, I haven’t been this happy in a long time.

I firmly believed Vee was the catalyst for all that occurred. Maybe talking to her simply put my desires into the universe. That I wanted—no, needed—this second chance. This golden opportunity.

However, I didn’t believe in that sort of thing, which was strange considering how much faith I had in superstitions, like thinking a woman sleeping beside me brought me good fortune.

+ + +

As I wanted to start this trial immediately, we agreed I’d come to her place around ten o’clock. She balked at the time, and I sensed it was later than she typically climbed into bed, but I had a game on the other side of Phoenix, plus tape to review, and dinner with the coaching staff before I could settle in for the night.

When Vee opens the door to her rental, she dramatically waves her arm, inviting me inside.

“Mi casa es tu casa. Or should I say, mi cama es tu cama? My bed is your bed.” She laughs at herself, as she shuts the door behind me. “That was just weird wasn’t it.” She blows out a deep breath. “I’m nervous.”

I take in her baggy pajama pants and oversized sweatshirt. Her hair is swept off her neck like it had been that first night. Her cheeks are sweetly flushed. Her eyes dance. When we met for coffee, only this morning, I remember thinking she’s so pretty, and I have the same thought as we stand across from one another. I am greatly relieved and extremely grateful to be standing across from her.

I’m also anxious. Strangely, I hadn’t felt this much nervous energy the night she rushed to her hotel room, slipping away from me after our elevator interlude, and I made the sudden decision to take my prized bottle of scotch to her room and ask her to share a drink with me.

This night shouldn’t feel dissimilar, and yet, it feels monumentally different.

“Would you like a drink?” she offers.

“Are you having one?”

She slowly shakes her head. “Not this late. Hot flashes will haunt me.”

Hot flashes? “You can’t be more than forty.”

A smirk graces her soft mouth. “You’re sweet, and I’m forty-five.”

My gaze roams her from tip to toes, taking in her blonde hair, the color of wheat in sunshine, and the curves of her body which are subtle like the hills near home. She only comes to my shoulder like a petite package, but she has spunk and spirit, and I like her. She reminds me a little bit of Patty.

“Honestly,” she interjects before my thoughts race to my late wife. “It’s past my bedtime.” She softly chuckles. “And as lame as that sounds, it can’t be any weirder than this arrangement.” She waves between us.

I toe off my athletic shoes and nod. “Want to show me to your room?” I’m not sure I’ve ever asked the question in such a strangled tone or said it in a way that sounded so disconnected.

Vee offers a lopsided smile and tips her head, leading me to the left of the living room and kitchen combination. I should ask for a tour or take her up on that drink she offered, but I’m not here for more than a good night’s rest. And hopefully some success at tomorrow’s game because tonight’s was a fiasco.