Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 85838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Zane: As we speak. Change of scenery better do me good. Hoping to turn things around against the Aces.
Maddox: Watch out for Hoffman. He’s been working on a killer changeup. But if you get ahead in the count, you can usually hit off him.
Zane: Whoa. Hitting tips from my agent? You’re a full-service kind of guy.
Maddox: Happy to give restaurant recs too.
That piques my interest. I’m not a restaurant connoisseur, but I am gobbling up these details about him—his pitching knowledge, daily habits, and interests.
Zane: Maddox LeGrande, are you a foodie?
Maddox: You figured me out.
Zane: What’s your favorite cuisine?
Maddox: Vietnamese, Thai, Mediterranean, Italian, Turkish, Indian. And so on.
Zane: Dude, you just named six things.
Maddox: Don’t forget the so on. It covers all manner of other cuisines.
Zane: So you don’t have a favorite?
Maddox: Evidently, I like to try lots of things.
Oh man. That’s some low-hanging fruit. I look at the pic of my niece.
Behave, Zane.
I will.
But, maybe not entirely…
Zane: I like to try lots of things too.
Gunnar clears his throat again. “Ahem. Am I the invisible man as you text your agent?”
I flip the phone over in a nanosecond. This conversation is private. “What are you, a detective?”
“Got something to hide?” He wiggles a brow.
“Nope,” I say.
That’s not entirely true. But what is true is this—I think I like the guy.
Wait. That’s wrong.
I know I like the guy.
Great. Fucking great. This is so not my MO. I haven’t been into someone this much since college. Three years in the pros, and I haven’t liked someone enough to make it past a handful of dates.
Now, with Maddox, I want him, and I like him. But I also need him.
This is getting to be a big problem.
10
INDECENT VERDICTS
Zane
The next night in Miami, I’m feeling pretty good when I field a scorching throw in the fifth inning, stretching so far to tag out the runner that I’m doing a split.
Highlights reel, here I come.
The night becomes even better when I get ahead in the count off Hoffman—thank you, Maddox—and whack a single into left field in the seventh. Then, I’m downright great as I steal second against the Miami Aces pitcher.
And fan-fucking-tastic is the word when Declan sends me home on a double.
When I reach the dugout, I smack palms with Gunnar. “You’re almost as good as me,” he says.
Them’s fighting words. “Bet you a cool grand I finish the year with more RBIs and runs.”
He scoffs. “Double or nothing.”
“You’re on,” I say. We shake on it, then lean against the railing and cheer on our team. I pump a fist when Declan slides into third on a wild pitch.
I catch Gunnar staring at my daiquiri tattoo. “I should bet you a Piña Colada tat. You’d look hilarious with matching cocktails. And you really can’t resist a wager,” he says.
“Not when it’s a sucker’s bet. You’re an easy mark, Gun,” I say. “I will finish the year with better stats and happily take your money.”
He rolls his eyes. “Someday, that cocky attitude is going to bite you in the ass.”
“Ooh, scary. That’s only one of my favorite things,” I say.
He laughs. As he should—he walked right into that. We go back to watching the field, cheering and high-fiving when Declan scores. Then Gunnar says to me, “So, what’s the latest with the endorsement deal?”
I cross my fingers. “Maddox is on his way back from London. He should be back in”—I glance at the time on the scoreboard in centerfield—“about three hours. He’s supposed to call me. I can’t wait.”
And fuck. I did not mean to say that last part.
Gunnar’s eyes widen. “Someone’s counting the minutes until his sexy new agent lands,” he says as Declan passes behind us in the dugout, then stops in place, clearly intrigued by our convo.
“Got a hot new agent, Zane?” Declan asks.
Gunnars nods on my behalf. “Yes, Zane sure does.”
“The plot thickens,” Declan remarks, then joins us at the railing. “What’s the deal? You’re eager to see this guy?”
I scoff, making light of my earlier I can’t wait remark. “Because this morning he met with the company we’re courting.”
Gunnar cups his ear. “I didn’t hear you deny your agent’s sexy.”
Declan joins in with, “Is there a denial coming?”
I adopt my most stoic expression. “No denial. You met him, Gun. I told you then I think he’s gorgeous. But I’m not foolish enough to act on it.”
My gut churns because I’m lying to my best bud, and now to Declan too.
I have acted on it.
And I could tell them. They’d both understand. Especially Declan. He’s married to the catcher for our rivals — the Cougars. But I don’t say a word even though the rest of what I said is true.
Maddox’s texts have become a favorite part of my day.
After the game, my phone buzzes with a message as I head into the hotel on South Beach. Weaving through crowds of the skimpily dressed and even more skimpily dressed, I glance at the screen, and a rush of warmth goes through me when I see his name.