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CHAPTER FIFTEEN

RACHEL

“Slow down,” I told my sister as she ran toward the field to join her friends. Her softball coach had called us to the field for a special announcement, and Taylor had texted with her friends the whole ride here, bouncing with excitement as to what it could be.

I’d splurged for a cab after a long workday, but I couldn’t muster any of Taylor’s revelry.

Sometimes, I envied my sister a little. She was a sweet, happy kid, despite the odd way she’d grown up. Our mother was in her life much less than she’d been in mine, and Taylor had been able to detach from her easier. I thought of it as a win, that just maybe all the effort I’d put into being a good parent, the polar opposite of the one we’d had, was working.

I usually did a much better job matching her energy, but it was hard when you had adult things to worry about, like how much this “surprise” would cost. Were they announcing one of the trips? Did it include airfare?

My mind raced with possibilities, but unlike Taylor, they were mostly bad.

“Hey, Rachel,” Hayley, one of the softball moms, called as she came over to me. “Any clue about the exciting news?”

“Nope,” I said, shaking my head. “I feel like the girls are building it up to be something a lot more than what it probably is.”

As terrible as it was, that was my hope.

“I think,” Hayley whispered as she came closer, “the team got a sponsor. From the rumor I heard—” she held up her hands “—they’re going to cover everything for the girls this year.”

“What?”

I didn’t realize how loud my gasp was until a cluster of teen girls turned to gape at me. I mouthed a sorry to my sister and turned back to Hayley.

“Like, everything?”

“Like, everything . Even getting them new uniforms with the sponsor logo, no matter that we’re a couple of months into the season. How cool is that? I mean, if it’s true…”

I clenched my eyes shut and said a two-second prayer to God and my grandmother to will it so. I’d planned to cover some of it with my next release payout, but if I didn’t have to, I could take Taylor on vacation or treat us to something fun if my book sold well. It was all an if at this point but more than what I’d had before we’d stepped out of the cab.

My chest tingled after what felt like a massive brick slipped off my chest. That rare but exhilarating feeling of relief coasted over me. I spotted the coach waving us over to the field and followed with considerably more pep in my step.

“Thank you for coming on such short notice,” Taylor’s coach, Amy, said after everyone had quieted down. “But this was news I wanted to deliver in person. Our team has a sponsor for the season, and they’ve agreed to cover all expenses for the girls this year, including all fees, uniforms, and trips.”

“Wow,” Hayley breathed out next to me, her blond ponytail swishing behind her as she whipped her head toward me.

“Seriously,” I said, exhaling so much air, my shoulders slumped.

“And that’s not even the best part! Our new team sponsor is the Brooklyn Bats!”

Taylor snuck me a look over her shoulder, her eyes almost as wide as I was sure mine were, but she was a happy-excited, not shocked enough to forget to breathe or blink.

“Wow, that’s incredible,” Hayley mused next to me. “But why would a professional baseball team sponsor a girls’ softball team? I mean, I love that they did, but it’s rare, you know.”

“Yes, rare,” I replied, all that sweet relief from just minutes ago dissipating into what felt like a familiar panic. It wasn’t rare or a coincidence.

It was Silas.

Gayle had suggested local sports sponsorships in her overall PR campaign to spread the name around the various Brooklyn neighborhoods and get the residents to think of the Bats as one of their own. I hadn’t heard if the Bats management had taken her up on it. Sure, it could have been by chance, but it was a one-in-a-million chance that the Bats would pick my sister’s team to sponsor this year.

I hadn’t been able to get Silas out of my head even before opening day. I’d sat in the stands as I tracked him on the field, so confident and sexy despite the trepidation he’d confessed to me.

He’d worn the shit out of that uniform, and I’d watched him instead of the game. Gayle had been up and down next to me, checking out parts of their stadium and telling all the ideas that had come to her. I’d nodded as my gaze stayed on Silas, his gorgeous face stoic and serious as he talked with his players, perched right outside the dugout for most of the game.

It had made me think of his easy smile that first day, even after I’d clocked him in the stomach. It was like we’d had our own secret, like I knew a side of him that no one else in that entire crowd did. Even though I’d spotted signs from a few women requesting to know him a lot better.

When he’d told me to take off the jersey and slipped one with his name on it over me, I didn’t know if I was going to combust or melt.

He’d done that right after I’d told him about the extra softball fees, another reason I had the feeling he was behind this. I guessed he remembered the team’s name from the poster outside the entrance to the field when he’d dropped me off after our interview.

I was grateful yet embarrassed. The last thing I’d wanted was for him to pity me. Not that I truly thought he had, but even as I sat in a crowd of ecstatic girls and their relieved parents, it felt like I’d been given a handout.

I’d avoided those all my life. But that would have to stay a me issue, and I’d push my pride—and my feelings for Silas—far enough away not to make any trouble and appreciate this wonderful gift for what it was, even if it would put me in Silas’s path once again.

Hayley gave us a ride home, her daughter Kylie and Taylor giggling over who they were most excited to see at the game we’d all been invited to next week. According to all the places I now followed the Brooklyn Bats on social media, for work and…reasons, I knew they were in San Diego today for a three-game series starting tomorrow. Our tickets, also paid for by our sponsor, were for the Sunday afternoon game at Wayne Field next weekend, and all the parents and players had seats right behind the Bats’ dugout, where I’d be even closer to him.

“This is so great. I wish Coach wasn’t asking us to wear our uniforms so I could wear my Becker jersey. Could you introduce me to Silas Jones?” Taylor clasped her hands under her chin. “Did you tell him about me?”

“Yes,” I said with a chuckle. “When I asked him for his autograph, I told him it was for my sister.”

I’d also told him to touch me, right before I shoved his hand down my pants. But I wasn’t supposed to think about that.

Not when I saw him again, not when I had to interview him, and for sure not with my sister and her entire softball team around us.

For a part-time romance author, I was jaded when it came to fate. I loved the idea of love—I had to, or else I’d suck at writing it—but real life was always more practical than romantic to me. As heavy as the temptation was with every interaction, I couldn’t be with Silas. That one day we’d had, where none of the regular rules of each other’s life applied, was a wonderful memory that wouldn’t work in reality, and we’d both known that and had agreed.

Then his team became my new client, and now he was my sister’s team’s sponsor. I’d see him at another game, and maybe his team would come to one of hers.

I found nothing romantic about this torture. I thought of this as more bad luck than fate, a constant tease of what I couldn’t have.

Or what I shouldn’t.

When Taylor disappeared into her room, I pulled out my phone. If staying away from Silas was in my best interest, texting him wouldn’t help, but I had to say something.

Me: So, the Brooklyn Bats are sponsoring my sister’s softball team this year. Know anything about that?

I fell back on my couch and set my phone on the cushion next to me as three dots popped up.

Silas: I might. When Kent asked us for names of local sports teams and camps that we could sponsor, I suggested your sister’s team.

Me: The Bats really want to sponsor a teen girls’ softball team?

Silas: Are you saying that girls and women in sports don’t deserve support? I have a field-hockey-playing cousin who will kick your ass.

Me: No, that’s not it at all. I’m sounding ungrateful, and it’s not my intention. Thank you. Truly. Just another surprise.

Silas: I get that, but I hoped it would be a good one. This is the one PR thing we’re doing I can get behind. And if it helps the sister of someone special, even better.

Silas: So you’re very welcome.

Someone special.

I’d do well not to read too much into that or read it five thousand times as I’d probably do tonight.

Me: She’s upset we can’t wear our jerseys. They want the girls in uniform and the parents in red shirts to match.

Silas: If you ever come into the stadium in a jersey to watch us play, remember the rules.

I didn’t think I could wear that jersey in public, never mind the stadium. Every time I’d slip it on, I’d think of the smolder in Silas’s golden eyes and what else I would have taken off if he’d asked me to, public place with my boss around or not.

This was dangerous on too many levels now. Silas was too tangled up with work and my sister’s team to be tangled up with me.

My mind went to the disheveled sheets in his hotel room and the glorious mess we’d made.

The only mess we could make without screwing up our lives—or, at least, my life.

Me: Oh, I do. Good luck tomorrow.

Silas: Thanks. Road trips are a lot easier when you don’t have to participate in practice, only direct.

Me: I haven’t decided whether I’ll watch or look on Instagram later. They’d give me the better angle.

Silas: I am sure they would, but you already know the good angles, right, Slugger?

I did, and I remembered them every damn time I watched Silas walk back into the dugout. As sexy as he was in his uniform, he was lethally gorgeous underneath. I remembered every ridge of muscle, the smooth skin on his back as I dragged my nails down, the soft tickle of his chest hair against my breasts.

My body heated from head to toe, the yearning and frustration hitting me hard in equal measure.

Me: Good night, Silas.

Silas: Sweet dreams.

I let my head fall back on the couch.

I’d have dreams tonight, but they wouldn’t be sweet.