Chapter 7
JEFF
After a month of getting used to this year’s roster, shifting people around a bit and trying out a lot of guys we’ve pulled up from the minors, I’m feeling cautiously optimistic going into our season opener.
Not that I’m letting anyone know that. Not just yet.
Everyone is getting a lot of good-natured mileage out of the whole Coach is a newlywed joke, which is good fun until I growl, and it’s important that I growl semi often so they remember who’s boss. So they all live in fear of being sent back down if they don’t perform to the major league standard.
But secretly, I think that we might have ourselves a ball team this year.
And I find myself wanting to share that news with Molly.
When I get to the stadium, the air conditioning in the team’s office is a blessing after the extra-warm spring day outside. Helen is waiting for me with an iced coffee and the bobblehead the team is giving away to the first ten thousand fans today.
Or more specifically, the bobbleheads, plural, because the figurine is me dipping my brand-new spouse, Captain Citrus.
“Oh Jeez,” I mutter, my cheeks turning hot.
“I think it’s sweet,” Helen says matter-of-factly. “And some people have already arrived early to get them.”
“That’ll be good for hotdog sales.”
“And beer sales, more to the point.”
“Touché.” I swig back half the coffee. “Fans are already here?”
“A few.”
“Molly must be thrilled.” I take the bobblehead couple from her and jiggle it in the air. “Can you tell her to come find me on the field?”
“Of course,” Helen says smoothly.
But an hour later, after warm-ups are completed, I still haven’t seen the pretty public relations staffer. The bobblehead that accompanied me outside is still sitting on the dugout railing. I jiggle it again, making the Captain Citrus grapefruit head bounce.
I can hear her giggle from inside the costume clear as day.
I’ve thought of little else in my down time over the last month. I’ll never touch her. She’s pure and sweet and innocent. But my private fantasies are my own. And it can’t be wrong to indulge when she’ll never know.
It’s probably a giant red flag that I asked Helen to find her for me, to use this promotional item as a pretense to talk to a team staff member who I must remember is off-limits.
So it’s probably for the best if Helen either ignored me or wasn’t able to find her. Either is fine.
I shouldn’t be irritated with my assistant.
But when she catches up with me, my annoyance spills out anyway. “What happened to Molly?”
Helen gets a funny look on her face.
Alarm grips me by the throat. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“Helen.”
“I don’t want to speak out of turn or give you the wrong impression. Opening day jitters, probably.”
“What are you talking about?”
“She’s busy.”
“Pardon?”
“That’s what she said when I told her to come to find you. She said, and I quote, ‘Oh gosh, I’m too busy.’”
My eyebrows shoot up. “Is she, now?”
I’m about to stalk off in the general direction of wherever it is that she works—and I’m not exactly sure where that is—when Helen taps her clipboard. “You have a team meeting in fifteen minutes. And Hector is waiting in your office.”
Fuck. Right.
“I can try again. More of a direct, command appearance?”
“No, don’t.” I scrub my hand over my face. I shouldn’t have involved Helen in this in the first place. “I was just gruff with her about the promo stuff before we went out to Dunedin. Now that we’re back, I wanted to start the season on a different footing. But it’s not important.”
That part is a lie.
As, I suspect, is the part about Molly being too busy.
Why would she tell Helen that? That’s a question that will be best answered in private. Later.