I hired her to be my girlfriend.
To fix my reputation.
To save my career.
It"s not that I don"t want a girlfriend. I do. I want it all. Wife, kids, side-by-side burial plots.
The problem is " I can"t have any of it.
So I"ve made myself untouchable. The quintessential bachelor of baseball.
Because it"s not worth the risk. Not even for someone I love.
Especially not for someone I love.
We made the arrangements.
We agreed to a contract.
It"s iron clad.
No sex. No love. No future.
What could possibly go wrong"Books in Series:The Perfect Game Series by Samantha ChristyBooks by Author:Samantha Christy Books
I look down at my jersey and see it caked with dirt. Then I stare at my pants to see they are no longer white, but reddish-brown with one of the knees ripped clean through. Bonus points for that.
The state of my clothing always tells me what kind of game I had. The dirtier the better. And today has been exceptionally good, especially for a season opener. Hell, I might even frame this uniform. Four stolen bases. Four! I"ll bet Rickey Henderson is shaking in his boots thinking I might be the one to break his record.
For two years now, I"ve held the league record for stolen bases. And if this game is any indication, I"m on my way to year three.
"Take me home, Sawyer!" a woman screams, as I make my way into the dugout.
I turn my head and find a beautiful tall blonde giving me a good look at her cleavage. I take a second to memorize where she"s sitting so I can have one of the ushers slip a note to her.
I won"t take her home. I never take them home. But the hotel down the street from where I live is convenient, within walking distance of my townhouse, and nice enough that the girls don"t complain too much when I leave before the crack of dawn. After all, they do get a hotel-catered breakfast fit for a queen, albeit for one. As for me, I usually hit Starbucks on my walk home.
I put my helmet and batting gloves away and scribble a note to Blondie. Then I hear the disappointment of the crowd and look over to see that Benham got thrown out trying to steal third. I shake my head. I need to give that rookie some pointers.
Brady pats me on the back. "Nice job out there," he says, removing his jacket and grabbing his glove to head out onto the field.
I lift my chin at him. "Let"s end this now."
I give my note to an usher, along with a description of the woman and her location. Then I grab my own glove before jogging out to my position. I warm up with the other infielders as the crowd gets louder and louder, wanting us to shut out the Nationals for our first win.
It"s the top of the ninth and the score is 4 " 0, so as long as they don"t pull a rabbit out of a hat, we"ll get the victory.
Before the batter comes to the plate, I take a quick look around Hawks Stadium. Man, I love this. I have the best job. Great pay. Good friends. Killer city. I couldn"t ask for things to be any better than they are right now.
Growing up, I could only dream of playing in the majors. My childhood was anything but ideal. My mom was taken from me far too soon. My dad was a drunk. I made so many mistakes. Sometimes I wonder how I ended up here, the shortstop for the New York Nighthawks.
I rein in my thoughts. I need to stay sharp. I am, after all, what most people consider the most important position on the team. I"m the captain. The quarterback of baseball. You don"t win games without a top-notch shortstop. And you definitely don"t win the World Series. But that"s exactly where I plan on taking my team.
I hear the distant sound of thunder as Brady strikes out the first batter to the cheers of the stadium.
The second batter pops one up over the infield. I back up, calling off the center fielder so I can make a clean catch to get the second out.
The third batter dribbles a ground ball past Brady. Conner runs up to the ball, scoops it up and throws the batter out at first, solidifying our first win of the season.
We run off the field just as it begins to rain, celebrating our way back into the dugout.
I catch a glimpse of Blondie as I make my way to the clubhouse. I give her a wink and call out to her. "Give me twenty minutes, sweetheart."
She smiles and then turns around and screams with her friends.
I laugh and shake my head. Every time.
Walking up to my locker, I see one of the assistant coaches leaning against the wall. "Rick wants to see you," he says.
"Okay, sure. Mind if I shower first""
"I don"t think he cares how you smell, Mills. Just get your ass in there now."
I watch him walk away, wondering what this is all about. I mean, I just had the best game of my life, why would Coach want to see me"
Caden comes up next to me. "Being called to the principal"s office so soon"" he jokes.
"I"m sure he wants to tell me how awesome I played. Did you see me out there" I fucking killed it."