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SIXTEEN

SCOUT

Parker: Get ready for the hella sexy game day fit I’m rocking.

Scout: I’ll be the judge of that.

Parker: I’m counting on it…

I bit down the smile and focused back on the task at hand. Namely repeating myself to Joey and Cyrus about what we were doing right now, but given it was eleven p.m. and probably way past their bedtime, it wasn’t sinking in quite as quickly as I hoped.

“The guys come out of those doors.” I pointed to the entranceway leading into the loading bay under Lions Stadium, where three large buses were waiting to take the guys off to the airport. Tonight they were flying out of New York and down to Dallas for an away series against the Texas Rangers. “They have to come down the ramp, then they walk around the front of the bus.”

“Where’d you want the cameras set up?”

“One straight on, and one at forty-five degrees coming down the ramp.” I turned to Cyrus who was still looking kind of confused. I was putting it down to the fact it was way past his bedtime. “Fans like the action shots. Plus, some of the guys jog down the ramp, and the girls go wild for those, especially when we put it in slo-mo.”

“How ’bout we each man one. Set them up on a tripod?”

I nodded to Cyrus, holding in a yawn of my own. “Yeah, and I’ll stay up at the front to make sure the guys come down with a little separation between them.”

“Why are we doing this again? When they’re all going to be wearing the same thing,” asked Joey for the dozenth time.

“Because it’s funny. It’s a ‘who wore it best,’” I explained, again. It was definitely more than a dozen.

“Oh.”

“Guys, you can sleep on the plane, so let’s keep it together for a little longer. Then you get on the bus with the comms team, and I’ll edit this in the morning.”

“Okay, sure.” Joey nodded, turning to Cyrus. “C’mon, let’s get these done. I’ll go by the ramp.”

The whole time we’d been talking, the doors had slammed back and forth, as everyone readied themselves for the trip. It might be eleven p.m. but it was possibly the busiest time of the day so far.

A little under an hour ago the boys finished playing their home series against the White Sox, which hadn’t gone as well as everyone wished it had.

The Lions narrowly lost the final game, and everyone was a little bit quieter because of it, and likely a whole lot pissed. But leaving for another series meant there was no time to dwell on it. At least until they got on the plane and Coach laid into them.

While the boys had come straight off the field and headed to the showers, everyone else jumped into gear. Front office staff, assistant coaches, and PTs were running around making sure everything and everyone was where they were supposed to be.

The travel staff, who had meticulously planned arrangements down to the second, had already left for the plane waiting at Teterboro, overseeing the transportation of equipment, staff and players’ luggage, and transport manifest.

That was to say, nothing of the advance teams who prepped the hotels the boys would be staying in, including the swapping out of custom mattresses for each of the starting nine to be set up in the hotels for when the guys arrived. Penn Shepherd went to every length and more to make sure his team was well rested before each game, and if that meant they slept on what was as close to their own bed as possible, instead of lumpy hotel bedding, then he would happily foot the bill.

It was all part of his strategy for the Lions to be crowned World Series champions as soon as possible.

“Scout?”

My head flicked back to the doors to find Dave, one of the locker room attendants, standing there.

“You wanted a five-minute warning. This is it.”

“Cool, thanks.” I waved back at him, then turned to the guys. “Okay, I’m going up there. You all good?”

“We got this,” Joey replied, lining up the camera so it was in the exact spot he wanted it, and opened his mouth with another wide yawn.

A couple of the rookies walked out just as I got to the doors, giving me a nod of acknowledgment. Thankfully we hadn’t planned anything more elaborate after the loss, because it was always so much harder to get any content. At least tonight all they needed to do was walk onto the buses, which was what they’d be doing anyway.

I smiled back, the mood too somber to attempt any form of conversation. Plus, there was only one guy I really wanted to talk to. I kind of wish he’d hurry up, too, or at least not arrive at the same time as any of the coaches, including Coach Chase. I wasn’t certain, but I swear the last few times I’d seen him he’d scowled at me.

Boomer Jones, Stone Fields, Saint Velasquez all passed by, unsmiling, followed by a couple of the base coaches.

“Hey, Scout. Fancy seeing you here. How’re you doing?”

I was glad to be leaning against the wall for how suddenly my core clenched at the sound of Parker’s deep voice, only for it to double down as the heady, earthy scent of him floated under my nostrils.

“Hey, Parker. I’m good, how are you?” I grinned, while doing my best to ignore the fluttering in my belly.

No, not belly. Lower. Right between my thighs.

“Great now I’ve laid eyes on you. Did you watch the game?”

“Of course. Sorry you guys lost tonight.”

He jerked a shoulder up. “Yeah, sucks because we played well. But what I really want to know is why my home run isn’t on social yet.”

“You know,” I started, crossing my arms over my chest and adding a little foot tap. I had the feeling Parker kind of liked it when I sassed him, and after tonight, I wanted to make him smile. “Other people get home runs as well. It’s not all about you.”

“Yeah, but when you feature mine, it means I know you’ve seen it. Makes me feel important.”

“Hmm. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Hey, that’s all I’m asking.” He rubbed his hands together. “So what have you got us doing tonight?”

“Told you, just game day fit.”

He frowned, glancing to a couple of the rookies walking past. “You know we’re all wearing the same thing, right?”

“Yeah, it’s a ‘who wore it best.’”

“Oh really?” He grinned wide. “Then pray tell, how good am I wearing it? C’mon, be honest. I’m the best, right?”

Holding my mouth in a straight line, I leaned back slightly. My eyes dropped and coasted slowly up from his sneakers.

Game day fits were some of our most popular posts.

Last year there’d been roughly a hundred, and we’d done a dozen or so already this year. They always attracted a slew of comments from Lions fans, as well as a barrage from Lions haters, but that’s what made it fun.

Some guys, like Lux Weston, clearly spent a lot of time deciding what to wear for each game. They hired stylists, they had their outfits selected weeks ahead of time, they liaised with designers. Others, like Jupiter Reeves, wore the first thing they found in the closet and gave zero fucks what anyone thought, but still looked better than everyone else.

Parker was usually someone who fluctuated on the scale between Lux’s enthusiasm and Jupiter’s apathy, but he always looked good. Always.

Didn’t matter if he was arriving for practice, heading to the gym, or on the field, Parker King was a certified snack, and any of the girls on the fifth floor would agree in a heartbeat.

But this week we’d decided to do something different, inspired by a copy of U s Weekly I’d spotted open on a feature with a bunch of celebrities all wearing the same thing. I knew the guys would be flying out late after tonight’s game, and they always wore the Lions sweats to fly.

All of them dressed the same.

Not that I could recall every game day fit of Parker’s because he mostly liked to wear a suit—a really well-fitted suit—but right now, standing in front of me in the black sweatpants and soft black hoodie, his hair still damp from the shower, cheeks a little pink under the thick stubble, I knew for a fact I’d never seen him looking quite as good as this.

Not even fresh in the mornings.

How was it fair that at nearly midnight, after playing baseball for the last few hours, he looked like this?

“I like it,” I replied finally, trying to force myself to swallow before my mouth completely dried up. “Maybe you’ll win the award.”

Even under the harsh strip lights of the loading bay, his eyes brightened. “There’s an award?”

“Yeah.”

Parker leaned in slightly, his lips curling with a slow smile, and I was once more intoxicated with the scent of him. “I’m okay with that, if you’re picking the winner.”

I’d almost gotten used to the way my heart kicked up whenever he was near me, or the way my mouth dried a little as I stared at his lips and I tried not to think of what they would feel like to kiss, like I was doing right now. But it was hard.

Sometimes, when we weren’t surrounded by a hundred people all hurrying around us, I drifted off into a fantasy of what else Parker could do with his mouth.

What his tongue was capable of, what he was capable of.

My dreams were still being haunted by visions of his rock-hard body, powering on the treadmill as he dripped in sweat, until I bolted awake drenched through with a weird electricity buzzing across the surface of my skin.

It was a wonder I was getting any sleep at all.

The good-night messages didn’t help, either, though I had a feeling he knew exactly what he was doing. Sending me a message every night ensured he was the last person I thought of before I closed my eyes.

He might be the reason I’d been getting no sleep this week, but he was also the reason I’d ended each day with a smile on my face, the reason I jumped out of bed to meet him for our morning coffee, and the reason I carefully selected each item of clothing I wore.

It was nearly the middle of May, the regular season was barely six weeks old, yet all plans I’d had to concentrate on my career and stay single were hanging on by a thread. I couldn’t even tell you how he’d done it, but Parker King had successfully become the best part of my day.

The downside of all this time I’d been spending with Parker was that I’d become so engrossed with him, I forgot where I was.

“Get a room,” jeered someone passing, who sounded a lot like Ace, especially when Parker jerked forward from a slap on the shoulder, though it was hard to tell when I only caught the back of the perpetrator’s head, hoodie pulled up and looking exactly like everyone else.

My cheeks burned red, something Parker noticed. He immediately stepped back.

“I’ll leave you to work.” Hitching his bag up, he held my gaze for a second. “See you on the plane.”

I shook my head, and my eyes fell away. I couldn’t look at him. “I’m not coming.”

“What?” he barked out, frowning deeply at me. “Seriously? You didn’t come last time.”

“I have a lot of work to do, the job application needs to be submitted next week and I haven’t started it yet.”

“Oh.” He tried to hide his disappointment, but his face dropped before he could stop it. I fared no better. Worse, even. Because from the way my belly was swirling, there was no denying it anymore. I liked Parker King. Like, a lot. “In that case, staying behind is a good idea. You’re going to nail that job, Davison. I can feel it.”

“You’ll be back before you know it,” I replied quietly.

“I guess I’ll have to miss you instead.” He leaned in. “And you know what they say?”

I shook my head, my breath catching in my throat. “No, what?”

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder.” He winked.

It wasn’t until he boarded the bus that I could finally breathe again.