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Lucas wasn’t blind. He knew what she was doing—putting up barriers, keeping things strictly professional.

The little smirk he wore when he walked into her office said it all.

He played the game, bided his time. But she felt it every time he looked at her like he remembered exactly how she tasted, how she sounded falling apart beneath him.

The day of reckoning was coming, and Opening Day wasn’t just about the Knights taking the field.

It was about their next move.

Cole appeared in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame with that easy grin. “Miranda?”

She blinked. “Hey, Cole. Sorry—just woolgathering.”

“Big day,” he said as he stepped into the room, flipping open his tablet. “You good?”

“As I’ll ever be.” She forced a bright smile and gestured for him to continue.

As Cole ran through the timeline for the day—anthem singer, ceremonial first pitch, the mascot’s TikTok reveal—part of her mind drifted. She took in the words, nodding where appropriate, giving input where needed. But beneath it all, the question pulsed like a drumbeat.

How did she bridge the distance between her and Lucas? How did she step through the wall she’d built—stone by stone—when all she wanted was to reach across and touch?

She wasn’t sure of the answer. But she knew one thing for damn certain.

She was the one who had created the gap.

And she might be the only one who could close it.

L ucas paced the owner’s box like a caged animal, the energy of Opening Day pulsing through the stadium below. The dull roar of the crowd, the scent of roasted peanuts and fresh-cut grass drifting through the windows—it was intoxicating. But his nerves had nothing to do with the game.

Miranda was somewhere in the tunnels beneath the stadium, coordinating the Opening Day ceremonies with her usual precision. He’d chosen to stay out of the way, to let her work without distraction. Without him as a distraction.

He scrubbed a hand over his jaw and turned toward the field just as Cole poked his head through the doorway, his expression immediately pinched with frustration.

“Cole,” Lucas called. “Who are you looking for?”

Cole sighed and hesitated, clearly reluctant.

“Our mascot never showed up. I was hoping someone—anyone—up here might be able to fill in. Leavitt or one of the other department heads, maybe. Leavitt’s tall enough to fit the costume, at least. Miranda doesn’t know yet.

I was trying to fix it before she finds out. ”

Shit. The mascot wasn’t essential to the game, but it was practically sacred to the kids. And today was all about them—especially the youth group the team sponsored, who were on the field for pictures and a special ceremony. No knight on a horse? Total letdown.

“Haven’t seen him,” Lucas said, though dread was already curling low in his gut.

Cole’s gaze sharpened. “You’re what, six-two? Six-three?”

Lucas narrowed his eyes. “Yeah. About that.”

Cole’s face lit with wild hope. “Perfect. Come on.”

“Absolutely not.” Lucas backed up a step. “I’m here to advise and consult, not play mascot. There has to be someone else. Even you.”

Cole growled, stepping into the box, frustration radiating from every line of his body. “I don’t have time for your usual bullshit, Wainright. I need someone on the field now. The ceremony starts in twenty. We’ve busted our asses making the changes you demanded. You owe us.”

Lucas crossed his arms, defensive instincts flaring. “That’s crap and you know it. You made those changes to save the team, not for me.”

“And now Miranda needs you. Are you really gonna sit in your box, arms crossed, acting like some too-cool-for-this outsider, or are you going to show up for her?” Cole stalked out of the room after the parting shot, slamming the door behind him.

The words hit harder than he expected. Miranda. This day was her debut, her moment to prove herself. And she was down there, carrying the weight of expectations and public scrutiny, fighting for a team she believed in.

Cole cursed under his breath. At least no one would know it was him.

He flung open the door. It slammed into the wall with a bang, echoing down the corridor. And of course, there was Cole, casually leaning against the wall, a smug glint in his eyes like he’d known Lucas would cave.

Lucas jabbed a finger in his direction. “She can never know about this, Hammonds.”

Cole raised both hands in mock surrender. “Scout’s honor. I’ll tell her the mascot magically appeared out of nowhere.”

Lucas rolled his eyes but followed him down the hall. “I don’t give a shit what you tell her. Just give me the damn suit. Let’s get this over with.”

Inside, he was already groaning. The helmet would be sweaty. The padding unbearable. The horse—was it even mechanical or just some poor intern in a second costume? And the crowd? They’d all have their phones out, recording every second.

But none of it mattered.

He was doing this for her.

Because somehow, in the middle of trying to maintain distance, he’d gotten sucked in—dragged into this team, this town, this woman—kicking and screaming.

And he wasn’t even sure he wanted to escape.