Page 6

TAYLOR SWIFT

“S o, how’s your boyfriend fitting in?” Tiffiny clinked her beer bottle against mine to get my attention. She texted me earlier about needing to get out of the house for a change of scenery. As much as I needed the same thing, my thoughts were an overflowing jumbled mess of all sorts of things. Alcohol wasn’t exactly going to help, but having a friend nearby to distract me from said thoughts might.

“That man is the furthest thing from boyfriend material,” I grumbled as I tipped my bottle back for a hearty swig. “Be lucky you can’t meet your fantasy book men. You’ll only end up disappointed. Because Jamie is the biggest, most stubborn grump on planet Earth.”

“Jamie?” Tiffiny huffed, trying to find some common ground for my bitch fest. “What kind of fucking redneck ‘Backstreet Boys’ member dropout bullshit is that name anyway? What were his parents thinking?”

I rolled my eyes as my fingers danced over the condensation drips along the neck of my beer. This whole situation was shitty on so many levels. Especially the part where Jamie wasn’t anything like I imagined him to be in my late-night fantasies.

“I happen to like it.”

Tiffiny rolled her eyes. “Guys like him are the reason why I read to find men. No chance of running into a fictional man on the street.” A sad but dreamy sigh escaped my friend. “Unfortunately.”

“I’ll drink to that.” I sighed as our bottles clinked together before we sagged into our bar stools. Why was it so difficult to find a decent man in real life? Or at least a tolerable one. Was it too much to find a man who was lovingly obsessed with their woman? Not in a creepy sort of stalker kind of way. Someone who was selfless and passionate in bed. Someone who thought about you even when you weren’t together, then came home to show you how much they missed you.

Tiffiny was right. Those sorts of men only existed in books. Existed in books written by women. Some men wrote romance and some of those said romances focused a hell of a lot on boobs bouncing boobily. Cheers to women who wrote the kind of men we needed.

Not that I was actively looking for anyone. I was more into the whole theory that the one who was meant for you would just fall into your lap one day. I wasn’t going to go out of my way to stalk dating sites or pick up random guys in bars. Nothing about wanting a man made me that desperate. Okay, so maybe one thing. But they had vibrating silicone stand-ins for that. Of which I had an entire drawer full of at home.

For the most part, I was content being by myself. I could watch what I wanted when I wanted. My free time was spent doing things that made me happy or being in utter silence without a soul to bother me. Sure, it would maybe be fun to have someone over to do something a little different from time to time.

“We really picked the wrong career path for dating,” Tiffiny mumbled as she dove back into the loaded nachos we were sharing. It wasn’t the best choice for a dinner option, but it did carry all of the food groups. Plus, we needed to bury our stress and sorrows in some greasy food.

“Yeah, but who needs men when you’re surrounded by loud and obnoxious ones all day long? A daily reminder of just what we’re missing.”

“True. We get our fill during the season and then spend all winter recovering.” Tiffiny did a rather loud snort-laugh as she crunched down on an overloaded chip.

There was silence between the two of us as we ate. Something was bugging me about this sudden about-face in my personality with having the man of my dreams as part of my squad. I felt like all I did was yell at him.

He was trying my patience, whether it was on purpose or not. Maybe it was my protective instinct kicked into overdrive. I was uncomfortable around men I found attractive. I could only do the most awkward mating dance on the planet which included not being able to control the volume of my voice and overthought movements.

“You don’t think I’m being too hard on him, do you?”

“Pfft. No. Those majors boys are used to it.”

“It’s just that…it's fucking torture to have him staring back at me every day. I haven’t been able to lo ok the man in the face, let alone have any semblance of a conversation with him. I feel like all I do is come across as pissed off.”

Tiffiny burst out laughing with a mouthful of chips. At least she had the decency to cover her open mouth. But it did nothing to muffle her outright guffaw.

“Why? Are you constantly undressing him with your eyes?”

“You know, I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer.” The joke was on her. Jamie had undressed in front of me, by accident, only yesterday. But that was because Topper had called me into his office for another Jamie update. Due to that visual, I had no cognitive function to give said report. “But no.” Technically. “It's like I’m under hottie overload if he comes within ten feet of me. It's like I forget how to be a civilized human being.”

“So…that’s a yes then?”

“Shut up.” I took a large swig of my beer in a vain attempt to ignore the flashback of the rather up-close and personal vision of a shirtless Jamie. It was an accident I swear. But there was no fucking way I was ever going to tell Tiffiny that little secret. I’d never hear the end of it.

“Come on, admit it.” I reluctantly glanced at her, growing more afraid by the second just what she wanted me to admit to. “You still want to jump Jamie’s hard… bat .”

The chip went down awkwardly in my swallow. Working with a man you’ve admired and fantasized over from afar wasn’t something I’d wish on my worst enemy. This first week with Jamie as part of the team had been the most stressful fucking week of my entire career with the Sillys. Hell, my entire adult life.

“He’s making it easier and easier for me not to think about it.” Which was technically true.

But also, a complete and utter lie.

I had to simultaneously be professional and also not lose my fangirl shit. Which, if I was being honest, my inner fangirl was still hanging on by a damn thread any time I managed to catch him without a scowl on his handsome face. But unfortunately, those times were few and far between.

The man was freaking gorgeous. Just being in his orbit was both heaven and hell on earth. The heavenly part was being able to see him daily and at such a close range that I could almost count each eyelash hair. The hell part was a tie between his icy attitude and the fact that I couldn’t talk to the man in a civilized manner. It's as if he made my brain short-circuit to the point that major staff sergeant bitch Cadence came through.

Jamie made my heart race and bile come to my throat. A normal person should be used to having a baseball god in their presence by now. But for some reason, my body still had this immediate flight or fight response to him.

Maybe it was some sort of protective mechanism to stop myself from doing something stupid. Because if Jamie and I were ever alone, my body would definitely want to do something stupid. Especially with Tiffiny egging me on.

I wasn’t the kind of person to fling myself at a man who made my panties wet. My reaction was to give the man a wide berth because something utterly absurd was sure to come out of my mouth. Or nothing at all. It was safer to stay back and maybe, just maybe, they’d approach me. Not that they ever did.

“Oh, come on, he can’t be that bad. From what you told me before he seemed… charming . Is charming the word I’m looking for? I don’t understand baseball.” Tiffiny looked a bit confused as she raised her beer bottle to her lips. She was the furthest thing away from a sports fan. Her days were spent hiding in bed and reading. Being a mascot, all she had to do was get the crowd hyped and entertain them. Nothing about that needed her to completely understand the rules of the game.

“Considering how long you've been with the Sillys, I'm still surprised you haven’t picked up one thing about baseball.”

“I mean…there’s the catcher guy.” Her brown eyes looked off thoughtfully as she mused. “A baseball. Some gloves…and a ref?”

I was mid-sip when I snorted so hard the beer burned my nasal cavity. “Jeezus, Tiffiny. I mean…you’re off to a good start.” I desperately tried to keep my laughter under wraps, but it was a lost cause.

“Oh, it's not a ref, is it?” Tiffiny furrowed her brow as she thought about the matter. “Wait, refs wear those Hamburglar shirts.”

It took me a moment to understand what she was talking about but when I did, I lost it. I couldn’t help the deluge of laughter that spilled forth. I had to put my beer back down on the table lest I drop it in my unbridled mirth.

“I mean…you’re technically not wrong.” I choked out with tears in my eyes. All I got was a tongue out from her in response. Those vivid black an d white striped referee shirts weren’t easy to forget. Except on a referee they were vertical. “It’s an umpire for baseball. The guys in all black behind home plate. And at first and third base.”

“Oh.” She nodded, rather noncommittal. “Yeah. Those guys.” The tone of her voice led me to believe that she still had no idea what I was talking about.

“During all those games, you haven’t watched a second of baseball, have you?”

“Nope.”

“What the hell do you do when you aren’t on the field?”

“Read.”

I already expected that answer. For the most part, the mascot came out on the field during specific, previously scheduled intervals. Sometimes they had to go out to hype up the crowd during a tense part of the game. But usually, it was the same innings each game. Aside from how long each inning took, it was an easy-to-follow schedule.

“Lucky…” I muttered and nibbled on another nacho.Some days I wished I was the one sweating my ass off in a fur suit. It was a tough gig working with the team and with a man that I’d been salivating over for years.

I was essentially living every fangirl’s fantasy. I went from watching my sports crush on TV to working with the man day in and day out. Too bad he was the equivalent of a male ice queen. But maybe, just maybe, I could chip away enough at that rough foundation surrounding his usually stoic nature to have him let loose and be the perfect addition to the Sillys. And me with a front-row seat to watch his very fine ass as he did it .

Unfortunately, the man had been reluctant every damn step of the way. The few times I dared to gently nudge his body to adjust his stance mid-dance might have inspired quite a few solo sessions between the sheets for me. The man was hard . No baseball player needed to have that kind of muscle definition to stand around, or in Jamie’s instance, squat. That thought made my mind wander on just what kind of power that man had in certain body parts from straddling home plate day in and day out.

It was enough to make my mouth water.

I needed to be professional. The man was a major league player, and in injury recovery no less. All I had was a few weeks, months if I was lucky, to stare at him and boss him around before he left, and I went back to watching him on TV. I needed to enjoy every damn moment while I still could. Even if his attitude was a complete turn-off.

His piss-poor attitude did dull the perfect fantasy I had of him. The saying was true, “Don’t meet your heroes, you’ll only end up disappointed”. While Jamie hadn’t disappointed me yet, he sure had diminished the once-tasty fantasy I had outlined in my head.

Lately, my fantasies were inspired by his gruff demeanor. In my head, the man turned that attitude into full, unbridled passion towards me. It did nothing to help the in-person situation awkwardness for me.

If only it could be real life. The man all but recoiled every time I touched him to readjust his positions during a routine. He was a certifiable robot when it came to dancing. Which, in some dance styles, he would have done well with. But fuck if I’d ever explain the popping dance style accurately enough for him to actually want to try it. That would surely throw him through a loop.

I only had until the end of the month to get him ready enough to be out on the field with the rest of the guys. Topper was breathing down my neck to get him to Sillys’ entertainment level. The Sillys social media team was already having a field day hyping up the fans to get them to come out to see Jamie’s debut. Games were starting to sell out because of him. Maybe having him here would give the Sillys the morale boost they needed to get through the season with a strong finish. For once.

“Yo, earth to Cadence.” I jumped in surprise as Tiffiny waved her hand in front of my face. “They’re talking about your boyfriend on TV.” Narrowing my eyes at her, I moved them to the television she pointed to.

“Vince, can you believe Philly sent Gold Glove catcher Jamie Rheems to their Entertainment League Baseball team?”

“You know, Adam, I can. Aside from hoping that Rheems’ appearance in the league would get them some ticket sales, he was literally, maybe a game away from being benched for the season. Heck, maybe the rest of his career. His stats have been abysmal since he came back from the IL. I think it was high time for them to bring in some fresh blood from the minors…”

My jaw dropped.

I knew that Jamie hadn’t had the easiest time since he came back from his surgery recovery. But I had no idea it was that bad. Topper never explained the sudden roster change for the Sillys but with the television commentary, it all made sense .

I knew the team didn’t have the best ticket sales. They were literally in the MLB team’s shadow. I had no idea that there was something else motivating this unprecedented roster move. The Sillys were Jamie’s last stop before, maybe, being dumped by the organization that he’d given the biggest chunk of his professional career to. If he didn’t get his shit together then he’d be out on his ass for good. Either forced into retirement or traded to another team for maybe a year or two before he’d find himself, yet again, in the same position.

“I…I need to go.”

I didn’t give Tiffiny a chance to protest. Tossing more than enough money on the table for my half of the meal and drinks, I made a mad rush for the door. If Jamie was going to be a part of Philadelphia, and my favorite team, for the foreseeable future, I needed to come up with a better game plan for him to get his head out of his ass and back in the game.