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We both oversleep the next morning, unsurprising considering we were up late “making up” after our fake fight.

At least we’re both waking with smiles on our faces, but hers doesn’t last long when she spies the clock.

“Shit!” she yells, jumping out of bed and grabbing her clothes. “I’m late for class!”

“Take the day off,” I suggest sleepily. “You’re already missing your later class anyway for the parade. Besides, I’m going to need help corralling all the new players.”

She sets her hand on her hip. “And you think I can help with that?”

I laugh. “No, but I do think seeing your sunshine face there will help make it easier on me.”

“You think it’s going to be rough?”

“Gabby, these are players coming to Vegas . Imagine playing in, I don’t know, Minnesota or Cleveland or Milwaukee and getting called into a town like Vegas. You’re leaving cold, harsh winters for fucking Sin City. Some want to be here, and others won’t, but either way, they’re stepping immediately into a party. Somehow I’ve been tapped as the guy who’s supposed to keep them from getting arrested.” I shake my head. “It’s going to be an uphill climb.”

She blows out a breath and perches on the edge of the bed in serious contemplation, and I can tell she’s the type of student who never misses class unless it’s an absolute necessity. I reach over for her and pull her into my arms, toppling her over so she comes back down on top of me.

She giggles. “You really do have your way of convincing me to see things your way, don’t you?”

I press a kiss to the back of her hand and thrust my hips toward hers. “Did it work?”

She sighs. “Yeah, it worked.”

“Good. Now get that cute ass of yours naked again so I can work you over in the shower before we have to get to the stadium.”

“Yes sir,” she says, stripping out of her clothes again, and then I make good on my promise.

After pumpkin pancakes that she makes and I pretend to like, we head toward the stadium together in our separate cars. She goes up to the marketing department to make sure everything is lined up the way Joanie wants it while I move toward the clubhouse, and I’m met with Danny Brewer shotgunning a beer.

“Dude, it’s eight-fucking-thirty in the morning!” I say, and Rush stands beside him laughing.

“It’s parade day,” he says with a shrug, and as I glance around, I find a clubhouse full of guys who are starting their avenues toward being either drunk or high. Danny appears to be some sort of ringleader, which isn’t shocking, but I thought since the two of us had become so close in the last few weeks, maybe he’d err on the side of responsibility.

Turns out I was dead wrong.

I spot cans already filling the garbage can beside him, and the glassy look in his eyes tells me a bunch of them belong to him.

Add to that the fact that the league removed marijuana from its list of banned substances a couple years ago, and now it’s treated the same way as alcohol…that means it’s fairly commonplace among players.

And weed is legal here in Vegas.

The combination of that means players in the off-season are already taking advantage of all Vegas has to offer with little to no concern as to what sort of impression they’re making with their new ball club, going so far as to actually drink beer inside of their new clubhouse.

“If Troy was here, he’d kick all your asses,” I say.

“Well he’s not,” Danny counters.

“No, but I am.” I grab the case of beer behind him and carry it with me out of the clubhouse despite the protests following in my wake.

Troy brought me in to be a leader. This is where it starts.

I hide the beer in the backseat of my truck, seething the entire way that this is somehow where I ended up. A few months ago, I was working happily with kids and living a fairly quiet, private existence.

And now I’m tapped to lead this team, in charge of babysitting a bunch of drunken idiots.

I swing by the marketing department to see Gabby. She’s the light at the end of this tunnel, and she’s all alone in Joanie’s office. She tilts her head when she sees me.

“What’s wrong?”

“Danny was shotgunning a can of beer when I walked in, and half the players down there are on something or other.”

She closes her eyes and draws in a deep breath. “What can I do?”

“I think I’ve got it handled. I need to fend them off at least until after Mike talks to them, and what they do during the parade is their business.” I think back to all the parades celebrating victories that I’ve seen or participated in over the years, and sobriety was never in sight for the majority of people on the bus.

But never once did I partake in one in Sin City, either. I have the sudden feeling that today’s parade is going to be like literally no other.

When I return, Danny is sulking. “Do you really want the front office seeing you like that?” I ask him.

He glares at me a little, but eventually he purses his lips and looks away, which tells me that even though he might be a little on the wrong side of sober, he’s not stupid and he sort of gets my point.

“Let’s head to classroom A for Mike Perry’s opening statements,” I call out to the men gathered, and they actually listen as they all start to make their way for the exit with Rush leading the pack since he knows his way around.

Mike drones on and on, which isn’t a bad thing since it kills the buzzes that started down in the clubhouse. Eventually he releases everyone for the tour, and I take the pack around the stadium, showing them all the key places they need to know. Gabby and her team did an amazing job with the welcome banners, and every time I see one, a little tingle runs along my spine as it makes me think of her and all the work she’s putting in here.

I lead the players through the front offices and introduce them to everyone on staff, including the interns.

I catch Cade Barrett, one of the minor leaguers with lots of potential to get called up, giving Gabby the eye, and I’m sure he’s not alone. I force my hackles down even though the thought of any one of these guys hitting on her seems to flip a violent sort of switch in me.

None of them are good enough for her.

Her father’s right. She deserves better than a baseball player. She deserves better than me .

But I’m what she’s got, and I hope it’ll be enough.

We end the tour down in the clubhouse, where I give the speech I’ve gone over in my mind a few times.

“Welcome to the Heat!” I begin, my goal to make eye contact with every guy in the room during my short speech. My opener is met with cheers from the guys gathered here, some sitting by their lockers, some standing. “We all came from somewhere else, and today we’re a team. Think about what that means to you. To me it means we’re working together toward a common goal, and that goal is going for Ws. But today is where we start to build the brotherhood that lies behind what we do on the field. It’s where we start to build trust in each other, where we get to know each other and create bonds that extend far beyond our time here with the Heat. I can’t wait to build this thing with each and every one of you, and I know if Troy were here, he’d speak to the brotherhood we’re building, too. We’re a team, and we have four months to get ready to fucking win! It all starts today, so get out there, have fun, and please don’t get arrested.”

The end of my speech is met with laughs even though it’s a fair warning, and then I get a standing ovation.

I hold up a modest hand until they quiet down, and then I say, “Lunch is served up on the Diamond level, so get some food and then let’s rock this parade.”

The guys filter out of the clubhouse and head up to the Diamond level, and Danny hangs back.

“Sorry about this morning,” he says. “I feel like an asshole, but I do want you to know I respect you.”

“I know you do, man,” I say, and I slap his back. “Do what you want, but I didn’t want you wasted when Perry was talking to everybody. And remember the parade is public, so people will be watching—and filming.”

“I’ll be on my best behavior.” He holds up a solemn hand, but the second I walk up to the Diamond level, I realize how fucked we are.

Whoever thought it was a good idea to serve beer at the player luncheon right before the parade should be fired.