Page 18 of Fair Trade (New York Monarchs #2)

sixteen

I’ve been a good boy.

Or so I tell myself as I wait for the special delivery to arrive at the Monarchs clubhouse.

We’ve been on a winning streak lately, and tonight is looking to be no different.

Our starting pitcher, Mateo Martinez, has been striking out almost every batter that’s stepped up to the plate.

Guess he was worth the seven-hundred-million-dollar contract after all.

I’ve only stepped into the clubhouse once. It was on opening day, and only to give a “go get ’em team” speech. Because I’ve never really been inclined to make any other visits to spaces that hold air thick with body odor and sweaty athletes.

But today I’m making an exception.

It’s been almost a month since I’ve laid eyes on Luisa, and that comes to an end now.

During her travels with the team and my attempts to keep physical distance from her here at the office, I’ve learned a few more aspects of the baseball culture.

There was one in particular that caught my attention. It seemed juvenile and silly at the time, but then again, I live for shit like this.

I can feel the stadium vibrate above me. The crowd is going absolutely mental over an out caught by our new shortstop, Samuel Juan, signaling the end of the ninth inning and making the Monarchs win official.

I watch on the screens around the room as the players topple over one another in celebration. The camera pans to the dugout, and I spot Luisa, smiling as she pats Coach Weston’s back in congratulations.

I haven’t spent much time with Luke, and the little I’ve heard alludes to the fact that he’s a bit of a recluse.

But now I’m wondering if maybe that was a mistake on my part.

Luisa and Luke travel with the team and have most definitely spent a considerable amount of time together so far this season.

I wonder if he’s Luisa’s ty—

Enough.

I didn’t come here to act like a jealous fool.

I’m not sure exactly what you would call the relationship Luisa and I have, given that we only communicate via email.

But those messages have become more and more consistent. I find myself emailing her multiple times a day, never having to wait more than half an hour for a response.

We’ve both ditched the signatures and work-related pretenses and have somehow fallen into becoming pen pals.

It usually starts with me asking her a barrage of questions, none of which have to do with her actual job. And she responds with the quick wit and snark that I’ve begun to crave.

So much so that I have taken things a step further in my teasing and have arranged for a special surprise in hopes that Luisa will engage in that new baseball tradition I have recently grown quite fond of.

The team slowly filters in, along with the coaching staff. They don’t seem to notice me standing in the middle of the room, as they’re all filled to the brim with excitement, high on their win.

The players head to where their belongings are stored and start pulling out various bottles of champagne.

Luisa walks in last, alongside my sister.

My heart softens for a moment when I see them together. My sister would never admit to it, but I know she struggles to make long-lasting connections. The friends in her life are shallow, social connections at best, and her relationship with her brainless fiancé is a whole other mess.

The fact that Luisa is a close confidant to someone as tender-hearted as my sister further proves that there is more to that woman than I know. Which is maddening for reasons I won’t allow myself to dig into.

But tonight, we are all here for some fun.

And, hopefully, at Luisa’s expense.

Daisy spots me first, as cafeteria staff start wheeling in tables full of red refreshments.

“Nick! What are you doing here?” my sister asks excitedly.

Luisa’s head snaps in my direction, and I take in her white suit with blood red heels. Her eyes narrow in suspicion as I openly stare at her beauty.

Oh, just you wait, sweetheart.

I wrap my sister in a hug and lift her off her feet, like I did when we were kids.

She pinches my side as she squeals. “Put me down right now. We are at work, Nick,” she scolds between a fit of laughter.

It’s nice to hear her this way. Even though she plasters on those fake as fuck smiles day in and day out, I know my sister better than I know myself. And I know that something is up with her. I have a feeling my father is involved in this somehow.

“If I have to.” I place her down next to me, then look up to greet Luisa.

She’s giving me a quizzical look. As if she cannot reconcile the person she spent the night with and the man standing before her.

“Hello there, Luisa. Congrats on the win tonight.” The cheering around us hasn’t subsided, but I swear I can hear her thoughts from where I stand.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, straight to the point.

I make a show of looking around the clubhouse. “You know, oddly enough, last I checked, I owned this place. Can you believe it?” I scratch my chin as I feign astonishment.

Her eyes scan up and down my body, and I don’t miss the momentary appreciation in them before she shuts that shit down. “What are you up to, Stonehaven?”

I don’t attempt to hide my predatory smile as I wave at the coaching staff to get their attention.

Quickly, they garner the attention of the rowdy players.

I’m tall enough that I don’t need to hop on a chair to get their eyes on me, so I begin right where I stand.

“Congratulations on the win, guys. You were amazing out there.” The cheering continues for a few seconds before they settle again.

“You have been performing at a level that has far exceeded anyone’s expectations, given that it is your first year playing as a team, but I know this is only the beginning. ”

Cheers erupt again as the team catcher, Anthony Torres, yells, “?Así es! We’re riding this straight into the World Series, baby!”

I wave my hand to settle them once more. I need to wrap this up before they go completely off leash on me. “I know there is a tradition for big games like these, where you seat a player or manager in one of the carts and wheel them into the shower while they’re doused in champagne.”

The players start shaking bottles in preparation and shoving the new shortstop into a cart.

I raise my hand. “I was wondering if you’d be open to a suggestion. You guys dominate the field, but there’s a certain someone who has been dominating behind the scenes and went above and beyond to get our newest teammate here traded in what I’ve been told to be quite an impressive deal.”

“álvarez!” Chants start to break out as another cart is brought out. She glares in my direction as the players start to circle around her.

“No way. This outfit is new.”

“I’ll buy you a new one.” The words spill from my lips before I even register what I’m saying.

The dare hangs between us. Someone rolls a cart my way, and I aim it in Luisa’s direction, raising a challenging brow.

She slowly removes her white blazer, and the noise level reaches an alarming high.

She keeps her eyes locked on mine and removes her heels.

In this moment I’m glad there’s a cart blocking the view of the bulge in my pants.

She walks toward me and smacks the heels against my chest. “Hold these for me, would you?”

I grunt a response, since she’s activated the caveman mode in my brain. She seats herself in the cart as delicately as possible, but eventually slumps in until her cute little feet are pointing up and out of the cart and she uses her arms to stay somewhat upright.

“Okay, let’s get this over with, you overgrown children.” She huffs as the team claps with excitement.

“Oh, I forgot to mention one thing. Since this is Luisa’s first go at this rite of passage, I thought we’d do something more original than bottles of champagne.”

Everyone looks on in anticipation as Luisa mutters under her breath, “What are you up to, Lucifer?”

“Everyone, please help yourself to those small buckets of sangria I had brought in. They have extra fruit in them. Luisa’s favorite .”

Luisa turns in an impressive exorcist-style manner as I toss her shoes to a laughing Daisy and start to wheel her into the showers myself.

This wasn’t part of my plan. I was supposed to look on from a safe and dry distance. But over my dead body will anyone else be in charge of leading this experience for her.

“Nicholas León Stonehaven, you absolutely did not plan all of this in that tiny peanut brain of yours,” Luisa rants.

I tuck a piece of hair that’s slipped from her ponytail behind her ear. “Angel, you know my middle name? I’m touched.” Her cheeks pinken slightly, and for a moment I want to force everyone out of the clubhouse so I can explore this further.

But before I know it, everything I’ve put into motion starts coming at us fast. Mateo Martinez hands me a bucket as he smiles. “Something tells me you want to be the one who does the honors.”

“Martinez, you’re officially on my shit list,” Luisa barks as she rushes to put her arms around her head, as if that will help the onslaught that’s about to come her way.

He winces and moves back to a safer distance.

I stop momentarily, thinking maybe I’ve taken our bantering too far. I duck down to ask if she’s really okay with this. What I find is a massive grin on her face and her body trembling with what I hope is excitement. I speak directly into her ear, “You ready, Angel?”

She looks up at me, and the sight of pure joy reflected in her gaze has me staggering back a step. I’m used to her bark and bite. But the vulnerable split-second look of unbridled happiness aimed my way?

Well, that might be the thing that makes a man like me feel good and holy.

Might even make me vow to make her smile again.

“Do your worst, Lucifer.”

I shake my head as I lift the bucket high above her head. “Ready boys?” I shout, and the team crowds around the two carts. Samuel and Luisa let out war cries as I yell, “Let’s get ’em!”