Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
COLBY
I’ll give Adriel this: for a guy who is supposedly teetering on his best seasons being behind him, he sure does act like the shit when he steps to the plate.
He had three at-bats tonight, swinging nine times right through the air as if expecting to make easy contact and launch the ball into the river that winds behind the center field wall.
Instead, he struck out three times. A pair of drunk dudes behind home plate heckled him to the point he capped off the night by flashing them a middle finger.
And my job is to fix him. In a week or two.
Sure.
“I know it’s a big ask, Colby, but I somehow need you to keep Jayden moving up while keeping his brother from going off the rails.” Coach dips a giant fried pickle into what looks like thousand island dressing, and my stomach rolls from watching him push the entire thing into his mouth.
“Why do I feel like you’re talking about more than their at-bats?”
I poke my fork into what’s left of my salad and force down the last bite of my dinner.
I have felt sick to my stomach since news broke about Adriel showing up.
More than the chaos that comes along with the elder Vargas boy, it’s the added pressure of my relationship to Jayden and Adriel being outed.
“Welp, it’s a little more than the at-bats.
Yep,” Coach says as he chews through his words.
He runs a napkin over his lips, then tosses it on his plate before pushing back a bit from the table.
I think Coach purposely asked to have this one-on-one dinner with me at the hotel restaurant after tonight’s game so we could get into the Adriel situation.
But the rest of the staff is only a table or two away.
And they keep looking at us as if they’re waiting for me to get voted off the island.
“I don’t know that I can do much about Adriel, even in the batter’s box,” I say in a hushed tone.
Coach Shuster chuckles and rubs his full belly as he glances across the crowded restaurant to where most of the team is piled around a dozen tables eating wings and watching highlights from the day’s sporting events on the small flatscreen attached to the wall by the bar.
“Look, Colby. I’m not an idiot,” he says, his gaze shifting to meet mine. I swallow slowly disguise my sudden discomfort under his scrutiny. That sentence packs a lot of punch. Why would I think he’s an idiot? And what does he know?
“Okay,” I croak.
“I know who my coaching staff is, I mean. When we landed you, I did my homework. I know your dad coached those boys. It’s half the reason I pushed you with Jayden.
I thought maybe you could bring out something he’s been missing the last two seasons.
And lo and behold . . .” He claps his hands together, then flares his fingers as if he just did a magic trick.
“Voila.”
I nod, my smile still guarded.
“I don’t know that I did much other than encourage him to lean into his strengths.”
“Sure, but that’s the thing. You know his strengths. Just like, I’m assuming, you know his brother’s weaknesses.” He folds his hands on his belly again and leans back.
There’s a silent agreement in his gaze, and I nod.
“I do.”
My gaze dips to the table, and I push my plate away. If Coach did his homework, I’m sure he knows the rest of my story, including the bit about Jayden and Adriel’s dad killing my mom. I get a sense from his silent stare that he does.
“I’ll do the best I can. I want to help the team.”
“Good,” Coach says, leaning forward as he smacks his palms on his knees. He stands and I do the same, taking his hand in a firm shake. I’m not entirely sure what I’m agreeing to.
“Adriel is worth a lot to this club. Whatever you can do to get the most out of our investment, do it. But you and I both know Jayden is the future. So just . . . don’t let big brother sink him. You follow?”
He quirks a brow, and my stomach turns.
I nod.
“I got it,” I say, just as a bellow of group laughter erupts at the other end of the restaurant.
My gaze flashes right to Jayden. He’s sitting still at the head of one of the tables while Adriel stands behind him, his hands on Jayden’s shoulders while he regales the rest of the team with what I’m sure are embarrassing stories about his brother.
I can’t help but correlate this to how Jayden must feel—like his brother is constantly climbing on his shoulders and pushing him down.
Jayden’s eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I hold my breath and try to read his thoughts.
Help.
I need you.
Us.
“We can get in for hitting practice at six tomorrow morning. I’ll let the guys know to show up at seven, though, if you wanna . . .” Coach gestures toward the Vargas boys, and I nod.
“Yes, Coach.”
I take in a deep breath as Coach waggles his hand in a haphazard farewell before heading toward the elevators and likely up to his room for the night.
I shift my attention back to Jayden, and his head is down, the familiar fake smile he wears when someone is complimenting him plastered on his lips. I doubt Adriel is praising his baby brother, though. I’m sure he’s embarrassing him.
I step out of the restaurant, stopping by the small cluster of chairs in the lobby, and pull out my phone. We probably shouldn’t be texting, but if I can somehow keep this strictly business . . .
ME: Coach asked me to talk to you about tomorrow’s BP.
I stare at my phone, waiting for the three bouncing dots to indicate that Jayden sees my text and is responding. Nearly a minute passes, and at least two rounds of laughter boom from the restaurant before I get a return text.
JAYDEN: Can you call me from the desk?
I scratch at my head, then scan the lobby.
It’s late. Our game wrapped up after nine, and it’s closing in on eleven.
I step to the concierge stand and lean over to scan the area behind the check-in desk.
I hear an employee stocking one of the vending machines down the side hallway, so I wait in case someone walks out to help me.
After several seconds pass, I take matters into my own hands and lift the phone receiver from the concierge desk.
I dial Jayden’s number and he picks up on the second ring.
“Hello?” He knows it’s me, I’m sure.
“I’m at the desk. You need to get out of that room. Coach doesn’t want you picking up any of Adriel’s habits.”
Jayden draws in a deep breath, and I wonder if he’s thinking of an excuse to leave.
“I’m in room seven-twelve. Tell the guys you have an issue in your room,” I say. My face heats, and I scan the lobby around me. I feel like everyone can see the signs on my face—I just invited a player to my room.
Nobody is here.
“Okay, so you need me to come up now, then? It’s the shower? I mean, I can just change rooms. Excuse me, guys.” There’s a shuffling sound on the other line. “Yes, I understand. I’ll be right there.”
Jayden ends the call so I rush to the elevator, pressing the button and willing it to open before he gets to me.
My conscience can’t handle being in a closed elevator with him right now.
Thankfully, I slip in alone, and when it opens on the seventh floor, speed-walk my way to my room at the end of the hall.
I get inside and prop my door so it’s not quite shut before moving to the foot of my bed.
I toss my wallet and phone on the bed behind me, then cup my knees with my sweaty palms. I wish I could be lying in this bed, all sexy and waiting for Jayden, but I’m too high-strung to think about anything other than not getting caught.
I hear the ding of the elevator after a few minutes, and count the passing seconds in anticipation of Jayden stepping through my door. When his body fills the door frame, I finally exhale. And when he closes and locks the door behind him, I stand up and rush to him.
His hands fly to my face, his palms resting on my cheeks as his mouth crashes over mine. He walks me backward until my legs hit the side of the mattress, and his hands slide around my back as he gently lowers me onto the bed.
“Thank you for saving me,” he whispers, his lips grazing mine with his words.
“Just obeying Coach’s orders. I mean, to a point.” I giggle. “He didn’t ask me to bring you to my room.”
“Or your bed,” he says, his lips inching up on one side with a devilish smirk.
I shake my head as he sits up on his knees and pulls his long-sleeved Mavericks shirt over his head.
I scoot back until my head rests on a pillow, and Jayden follows, his legs straddling me and pinning me to the bed.
My hands immediately land on his abs, my nails raking down the ridges until my fingers find the tie at the waistband of his joggers.
I pull the strings and push his pants down his hips.
The tip of his hard cock peeks out from beneath the black fabric.
“Someone is in a hurry,” he teases.
I lick my lips and smile up at him before running my thumb over the wet tip.
“I think someone else is, too,” I hum.
Lifting up on my elbows, I paint my tongue over the slit of his dick.
“Fuck me,” he groans, pushing his pants lower until his cock is fully exposed.
I wrap my hand around his length, stroking him a few times before angling my mouth to take him in.
I swirl my tongue around his warm length as he leans forward, bracing his weight against the headboard as his hips rock forward.
His cock drives into the back of my throat, and I suck hard to show him how ready I am for him to use me this way.
“Christ, Colby. What are you doing?” He rolls his hips, his cock sliding through my lips then diving back down my throat.
I moan against him, then grab his base to guide him in a third time, more gently.
His cock slips out of my mouth, and I run my plump bottom lip along his shaft as I flit my eyes up and peer at him through my lashes.
Whatever stress I felt about being alone with him while we’re on the road is long gone. Right now, all I want his him.