Chapter 27 - Hollis
Hollis
Idon’t say this about myself often, but tonight, I feel truly beautiful.
We’re talking show-stopping, main character energy, kind of beautiful.
And it’s all thanks to Candice and Logan, my personal glam squad.
They not only helped pick out the perfect gown for the gala, but spent all afternoon transforming me from a baseball bumpkin into someone worthy of walking a red carpet.
Staring at my reflection, I hardly recognize myself. Gone is the overworked social media manager in her Honky Tonk T-shirt and shorts. In her place stands a confident woman wearing a red, floor-length satin gown.
The back is completely bare, while the front dips into a cowl neckline, held up by thin straps and finished with a high slit. It’s a bold choice for me, and not something I’d usually pick, but Candice and Logan swore this was the dress—especially if I want to drive a certain shortstop wild.
As for my hair, and after a YouTube tutorial deep dive, we landed on a side-swept ponytail with curls that perfectly fall over one shoulder. While it feels a bit strange to have my back so exposed, it also feels like the best way to show off the back of my dress... or rather, the lack thereof.
After psyching myself up, I finally make my way into the event and walk through the open doors. I’m immediately greeted by a man holding a silver tray and accept a glass of champagne.
The room is all glitz and glamor, and it’s obvious my parents have gone all out to impress the donors. This is quite the contrast from my normal day-to-day on the field with a bunch of loud, sweaty guys.
One could assume I’d be used to this sort of thing, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. My parents went out of their way to give me a typical, normal childhood, or at least as normal as it could be for a girl with a famous baseball player for a father.
“Wow!” Easten calls out. “Baby Clemmins cleans up nice.”
My cheeks redden as I wrinkle my nose and walk to join him, a few more players, and their dates.
“Wow is right,” Hudson echoes, spinning his finger in a circle, directing me to do a small twirl.
I purse my lips to the side, but ultimately give in and spin as quickly as I can.
“Damn! Baby Clemmin’s got back!” Jaxon teases as the guys nod their heads in agreement.
“Okay, Okay…” I huff, tossing my hands self consciously over my chest. “Have you all got it out of your systems yet?”
“Not even close,” Fletcher says, seemingly coming out of nowhere as my heart stutters in my chest.
When I’d come over to greet the guys, I hadn’t noticed Fletch.
I’m not even sure how that’s possible, given how incredibly handsome he looks in his black tux.
As much as I’ve grown to love seeing him in his uniform and backward cap, there’s something to be said about his hair being free and perfectly slicked back.
I’m not sure how he’s done it, but this man has somehow figured out how to make a penguin suit look absolutely sinful.
“You like what you see?” He asks, a smug grin on his face as he smooths his hand down his chest.
I force my jaw shut and attempt to play it cool. “Eh.”
He arches a brow. “Eh?”
“I’ve seen better.”
The guys howl with laughter, but Fletch’s smirk only grows.
“Well, that’s okay.” His eyes sweep over me in a way that should be illegal, especially with so many of our coworkers around. “Not sure you really gave any of us a chance when you come in here looking like that.” His eyes lock back onto mine. “You’re absolutely breathtaking, Hollis.”
My heart squeezes at his words. “Oh, well, uh, thank you,” I stammer, trying to play it cool as the guys from the team exchange knowing glances.
“We should probably take our seats,” Noah suggests, which isn’t out of character for him. He’s always the most responsible person, both on and off the field. “I’m pretty sure dinner is going to be starting soon.”
“Well, I better go and find my seat,” I say, a bittersweet feeling taking over. As much as I enjoy being around everyone, it’s probably best we say our goodbyes, at least for now.
If we plan to keep our arrangement a secret, I’m gonna need some distance. Between him being all dressed up and his sweet compliments, I’m this close to throwing myself all over him, and that just can’t happen.
“No need. You’re with me,” Fletch says proudly.
“Wait, what? Really?”
“Yeah. I spoke with the coordinator, and after explaining how you’re the brains of our operation, she even agreed you should be sitting with us.”
I blink up at him. I’m strangely touched, and okay, maybe a little thrown off.
I’d been dreading a night of small talk with a bunch of strangers. Obviously, I’d been invited to sit with my parents, but since their spots are on-stage, playing VIP, I’d agreed to just sit wherever they had a free seat and call it good.
“We’re over here,” Hudson says, nodding toward a table as the guys follow and take their assigned seats.
Fletcher’s hand lands on the small of my back. Typically, that move would already send a small jolt through me, but thanks to my dangerously low-cut back, his fingers graze bare skin… only inches above my ass.
Every nerve in my body lights up, making me way too aware of how little fabric separates his hand from total chaos. I’m not sure if I should be grateful for my choice in dress or if I should set the whole thing on fire.
His hand stays firmly planted as we head to our table. Is it possible for a back to have a heartbeat? Because I’m pretty sure it’s pulsing exactly where he’s touching me.
Finally, his hand drops and I should be thankful, especially as he pulls out my chair like the gentleman he always claims to be, but the second his touch is gone, my body feels it. Or perhaps more accurately, mourns it.
Pull yourself together, lady!
“The turnout tonight is insane,” Easten says, thankfully giving me something else to focus my attention on.
“Right? It’s amazing,” I agree, my eyes scanning the packed ballroom.
“Last year this gala brought in a huge amount of donations for The Open Field Project, but this year, with even bigger names in attendance and every single table sold, I can’t even begin to imagine the good the foundation will be able to do with the funds secured tonight. ”
With my dad being a well-known athlete, his name alone has helped to raise a good amount of money, but with the ever-growing popularity of Honky Tonk Ball, it’s clear this year will be a record-breaking for The Open Field Project.
“And so much of that is thanks to you,” Fletcher cuts in as he casually lifts his glass of champagne to his lips.
I wave him off. “No way. It’s all you guys.”
“Sure, the people love watching us, but without you helping get the word out, nobody would even know we exist,” Hudson says from beside me as he gives my elbow a gentle squeeze. “Give yourself some credit.”
“Oh come on,” I huff, glancing his way. “Anybody could do what I do, especially when you all make it so easy.”
“Not true,” Fletcher says matter-of-factly. “Don’t forget, we’ve had other people run our social media accounts and none of them even pulled in a quarter of the followers you have. You’re the reason people care, and why this event is sold out tonight.”
“Seriously,” Noah adds, despite normally being the quieter and more reserved one. “I have no idea what we’re going to do without you next season.”
“Wait, what?” Easten blurts from across the table, tearing his gaze away from his date. “Since when?”
This is not the conversation I want to be having, and I’m sure it’s written all over my face as I let out a loud sigh. “Since the very beginning. This position was never supposed to be permanent.”
“I’m sorry, but that’s bullshit, and I don’t accept your future resignation.” Easten folds his arms like a stubborn child. “You’re a huge part of this team. Hell, you’re family and we refuse to let you go.”
“Here, here,” Fletcher raises his glass. “I say we all take a vote.”
I place my hand on his and lower his arm. “Let’s not.”
“All in favor of Hollis staying on as the social media manager forever, say ‘aye,’” Fletcher declares, undeterred as he lifts his glass again.
“Aye!” the players, along with their dates, say in unison.
“You heard it here first, Baby Clemmins.” Easten proudly beams. “You’re stuck with us, whether you like it or not.”
“We’ll see…” I trail off, forcing a smile.
Why not give them a little hope, even if deep down I know it’s a complete lie? I’m already struggling as it is not to second-guess myself. The last thing I need is them coming up with more reasons why I should stay.
I definitely don’t need more of those, especially when reason number one is sitting directly next to me. He may be sexy, charming, and distractingly good-looking but he’s also a huge pain in my ass, especially as his hand lands on my knee.
I try to focus on the conversation around us, especially as Easten starts telling the story about how he met his date, Missy, but all I can focus on are Fletcher’s fingers brushing aside the satin fabric thanks to the slit in my dress as they trace soft, gentle circles on my skin.
Why has this man made it his full-time job to test my willpower?
I force my face to stay neutral, or at least I hope that’s what I’m portraying, as it gets harder by the second, especially when his hand slips under my dress as he moves it further up my thigh.
Okay, it’s official. I fucking love this dress—and apparently, so does Fletcher.
There’s no denying it. Tonight was an absolute success for The Open Field Project. The fundraiser went off without a hitch, and between the table sales and the silent auction, we raised a record-breaking amount of money.
I didn’t think it was possible to love these guys more, but Fletcher and several of the other Honky Tonk players donated a prize package that allowed the highest bidder to play a private game with them. It not only received the most bids, but also sold for the highest amount.
It’s almost hard to wrap my brain around how much my opinion on Fletch has changed since first meeting him.
I’d quickly brushed him off, assuming he was nothing more than a cocky fuckboy, but I couldn’t have been more wrong.
I love watching him interact with fans, especially the kids who were at the carnival the other day.
It made me feel things I never thought possible, and perhaps in ways I also wish I wouldn’t.
“Care to dance?” Fletcher asks, his voice distracting me from my thoughts.
After dinner and the auction, the live band started up, and the dance floor filled up fast with more than half our table already out there.
I shoot him an apprehensive stare. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“Nobody is going to think anything, Holls. We’re just two coworkers enjoying a night out,” he shrugs. “It will only look like a big deal if we turn it into one.”
I glance out at those already dancing under the large chandeliers, and the temptation only grows.
I hate this. If any of the other guys asked me to dance, I’d have said yes without a second thought.
But with Fletcher, it’s complicated, especially since he’s the only one here I actually want to dance with.
“Okay, fine. One dance,” I give in, trying to act as confident as Fletcher looks.
He stands first, and pulls out my chair while offering his hand. I take it before he once again rests his palm on the small of my back. My body is far too aware of his touch as heat blooms low in my stomach before twisting into anxious knots.
Why am I like this?
I force myself to take a page from Elsa’s book and let it go—the nerves and any possible sideways glances. After how long I’ve made us wait, we deserve this one dance.
It’s not like everyone’s oblivious to how flirty Fletcher gets around me. And yeah, maybe a couple of the guys have started connecting the dots, but I’m choosing to believe, at least for tonight, that nobody actually knows anything.
“You have no idea how long I’ve been aching to get you alone,” Fletcher says, his voice low as he wraps an arm around my waist, holding my hand with the other.
I glance around at the other dancers. “Does this really count as alone?”
“Okay, fine. Not really, but that only means when I finally get you all to myself later, it will make it even more special.”
I arch a brow. “Oh, so you think you’re going to get me alone, huh?”
“Oh, without a doubt. It’s happening. That’s just a fact.”
“You sound awfully confident for someone who never actually consulted me about this. What if I already have plans for the evening that involve me heading upstairs all by myself, putting on that fluffy hotel robe, and bingeing chick flicks until I pass out?”
He shrugs. “I’m pretty sure I could get you to change your mind. But, if for some reason I can't, I'd say you sound like a woman with excellent taste, grab the other matching robe, and suggest we watch The Wedding Planner first. I’m a bit of a sucker for a good J Lo movie.”
I fight the urge to smile, even if my amused eyes give me away.
“Well, since you agree that I have such good taste” I say as we continue to sway softly to the music. “What would you suggest we do that could somehow beat that?”
“Like you, I’d planned ahead and booked a private hotel room just for us.
..” He leans in, whispering the rest in my ear, “where I plan to slowly peel that dress off your perfect little body before tasting every single inch of your skin. And then, when I’m finally finished and you’re fully satisfied, we can slip into those comfy robes and watch The Wedding Planner. ”
A wave of arousal spreads between my thighs as I fight the need to blush.
“You really do have a thing for J Lo, huh?” I ask, my weak attempt at skipping over the rest.
“Guilty,” he smirks. "But it's nothing compared to what I feel for you.”
So much for not blushing.
“What would you say if I suggested the two of us sneak off now and get this after-party started a little early?” he asks, his thumb brushing slow, continuous strokes along my back, making it clear he knows exactly what he’s doing.
What happened to the good ol’ days when I was the one in control? Because right now, this man has turned my life completely upside down as I find myself actually considering his offer.
The only problem? Tonight’s my dad’s big night.
My eyes sweep across the room as I spot him speaking with a few of his top sponsors. Okay, so maybe it’d be fine, and he wouldn’t actually miss me. Being the man of the hour, he’s managed to stay busy all night.
Plus, it’s not like we’d be the only ones dipping out a little early. Also, I need to get this man out of this tux, stat! He’s far too good looking with it on, and he fucking knows it.
Then again, he’s just as sexy without it, perhaps more so. Either way, I'm dying to get this man naked—the sooner, the better.
“Lead the way.”