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I hang up and meet two sets of inquiring eyes head-on. “That was Chloe. I’ve got a shoot for Body Shield I need to get to sooner than I thought.” Normally my agent handles this kind of thing, but Chloe approached Body Shield and the startup was thrilled to team up with me and the Landsharks for an online holiday campaign. A big portion of the profits will be going to children’s charities.
“That’s the new athletic apparel company, right?” Ethan asks.
“Right.” I push my chair back to stand.
“Say hello to Chloe,” my grandma says.
“I will.” I move around the table to kiss her cheek and say goodbye then give Ethan’s shoulder a quick grip. “Thanks for lunch. Louis, as usual, nailed it.”
“Thanks. Talk to you later.”
I enjoy the solitude of my car on the drive to the stadium. It gives me time to think about Chloe without prying eyes. I can’t stop reliving the way she moved against me, the sexy sounds she made when she came, the taste of her on my tongue. The way she squeezed my cock when I was buried deep inside her, so warm and tight it felt like I’d died and gone to heaven. She is an unexpected diversion from my off-season regimen, one I should walk away from, but I can’t.
I like her too much.
Have from the moment our cars collided. The second I laid eyes on her, there had been something familiar, something I couldn’t put my finger on until she walked into the Landsharks conference room a few days later and I learned who her dad was. I rarely look into the stands during games, especially when I’m up to bat, but one night last June, I remember glancing behind home plate and locking eyes with a woman wearing a Landsharks baseball cap. A jolt of awareness had practically knocked the bat out of my hands. I’d quickly turned away, shaken by the impact, and walked up to the plate where I’d proceeded to strike out. Casey was the home plate umpire. Chloe was that mysterious stranger.
Which is further proof I need to keep my head in the game and not on a relationship.
As I pull into the parking lot, I tell myself to stop enjoying Chloe so much. To put some distance between us by putting my focus—and discipline—back where it’s been for the past dozen years. On being the best professional baseball player there is.
However, when Chloe greets me outside the equipment room, I forget I even play baseball. “Hi. Thanks for rushing over,” she says, being very professional.
And dumbass that I am, I don’t like it. I want sexed-up Chloe on her tiptoes kissing me hello. Until she darts her eyes down the hall and I see Rena fast approaching. There’s no rule against Chloe and me getting together, but I understand keeping our personal interactions private.
“Hi. No problem. Hey, Rena.”
“Hello, Finn. How are you? Thanks to Chloe, we’ve got everything set up already and we just need your body. We’ll be doing…” She barely takes a breath as she runs down the schedule for the shoot with Chloe and me following her into the room. My pinkie finger lightly brushes Chloe’s. She links our fingers for a brief moment, taking the edge off my desire. Things continue to happen with efficiency after that, and I lose track of Chloe. A couple of reps from Body Shield introduce themselves. The four-person production crew, too. I change into their clothing and am positioned in front of the equipment shelves. Shiny blue batting helmets fill most of the cubbies, with white arm guards, shin guards, and batting gloves stacked neatly, in the others. In the corner is a large rubber trash bin full of wooden bats.
Next, I sit in a folding chair with my glove on, elbows on my thighs.
I change my shirt, put on a Landsharks cap, grab a bat.
Sit. Stand. Smile. Look serious. Repeat. I’ve been photographed hundreds of times, as a pro ball player and as a quasi-celebrity with a famous last name, but it’s never comfortable. Tension rolls down my spine, leaving an ache in my lower back.
Until I find Chloe, watching me. She’s standing at the back of the room against the wall. Hair pulled up into a high ponytail. Off-white sweater over stone-washed blue jeans. Her generous pink lips glossy. If I were to kiss her right now, they’d taste like peaches.
Every nerve ending in my body relaxes. It’s the weirdest thing. Like a layer of protection has fallen into place around me. In Chloe’s gaze I find peace.
“Yes!” the photographer says. “Stay just like that.”
The camera flashes several times before my view of Chloe is obstructed by the stylist stepping in front of me. “We’d like to do a few more without the hat,” Mandy says to me.
“Okay.” I remove my cap.
Mandy takes it, places it between her legs, and fusses with my hair. She’s probably a couple years younger than me, pretty, and definitely likes to keep her hands busy. Not that she’s been inappropriate, just thorough.
“I’ve been wanting to ask how you are,” she says quietly. “Is your injury healed?”
“It’s getting there, thanks for asking.”
“I’m a big Landsharks fan.”
“Appreciate it.”
“Maybe when we’re done here I could buy you a drink or something?”
“Sorry, but I’ve got plans after.” I’ve found subtle rejection works better than a flat-out “no.” Mandy is nice enough and obviously interested, and if it weren’t for a blonde, brown-eyed girl I can’t get off my mind, I’d probably take her up on her offer. But there’s no one I want to be with more than Chloe. I can tell myself a million times over to keep my distance, but it doesn’t make her any less appealing.
