Surprise Chapter
I can do this.
I’m a professional, after all.
All I have to do is get on that field and not punch my lying ex-boyfriend in his stupidly handsome face.
Because of course life couldn’t do me a solid and make the man who shattered my heart into a million pieces hideous with age.
Nope. The fucker apparently had to go on and continue to use that panty-dropping smile as a weapon and become a household name.
You’d think that after ten years, I wouldn’t be as affected as I am. But I guess I should have known that wouldn’t be true, given that he’s the reason I’ve refused to attend any MLB games for the last decade.
And it’s kinda hard being a baseball photographer who refuses to step foot on a baseball field.
But today is my first official day on the job.
I have to come to terms with the fact that I’m going to be working with my ex and flying with his team all around the country too.
Maybe I’ll use my flash to blind him when he gets within range or accidentally bring my camera lens out of focus when it’s time to take his shots.
I shake the petty thoughts away.
I’m working for the New York Monarchs. With my brother’s team and a whole crew of his friends that seemed to have welcomed me into the fold.
This is a very big deal and the best gig I could ever dream of.
So when it comes to Ace Middlebrooks, I’ll have to stick to using my imaginary voodoo doll when times get tough, I suppose.
I giggle as I make my way toward Luke’s office.
I’m sure he wants to give me a “good luck” pep talk before I photograph my first game with the team.
This place is massive, and I’m pretty sure I’ve taken a wrong turn once or twice, but I must be close to the clubhouse because I can hear the rowdy players the farther I walk down this narrow hallway.
I turn the corner and crash into a solid wall of muscle. I’m about to apologize when my eyes meet the ones my young and na?ve heart once foolishly fell in love with.
“You,” I accuse.
“You,” he seethes right back.
I take a step to move around him. My brain cannot come up with a better comeback at the moment, and I’ll be damned if I give this man the upper hand in wittiness. That title firmly belongs to me.
But when I move, so does he. And before I know it, he’s pulling us through a side door I didn’t see.
“Get your dirty paws off me. I’m not one of your groupies you can manhandle,” I say as he closes the door to what I assume is a utility closet.
“Relax. I took you by the hand, like a true gentleman.” He takes his baseball hat off and flips it backward.
My eyes narrow at the practiced movement. “Well, we’ll have to agree to disagree on the gentleman claim, but since I have no desire to be alone in a room—closet—with you, I’ll be going now. Shoo, pest.” I wave my hands in his direction, hoping he disperses like a cloud of smoke.
His jaw ticks as he shakes his head. “It’s the middle of the season. And this year, we’re making it to the World Series. Therefore, you and I are going to have to address our past so we can move on from it and work together. Peacefully.”
I chuckle darkly, offering him my fakest smile as I take a step toward him. “Do I look like the kind of woman who brings a man peace?” I bat my eyelashes.
His eyes quickly dart down my body and back up to my eyes. And I fucking hate that I felt every inch where his gaze lingered. “No, Valentina. You look like the kind of woman who could bring a man to his knees.” He takes a step closer as I grimace.
“Really? Dropping a line on me? In a closet full of towels and cleaning detergents? I must say, I’m unimpressed with your new moves. Thought they would have been a bit better with how often you have a new girl on your arm.”
His eyebrows raise as he takes another step. “Keeping tabs on me? Aw, you shouldn’t have.”
“I wasn’t,” I say defensively. “If you haven’t noticed, you work with my brother, and it’s kinda hard to scrub your face off every TV screen I pass by. Trust me, I’ve asked around. Would cost a pretty penny.”
I swear his lip twitches before he crosses his arms over his chest. “Let’s get back to the part where we get to the bottom of what happened between the two of us so we can both move on.” He takes one more step, and this time, I take one back.
“Moving on didn’t seem to be a problem for you then, so why should it be now?” My words come out harsh, and I wish it didn’t make it seem like I still cared. Because I don’t. Obviously.
His eyes zero in on mine, and now he’s closing the distance between us. He doesn’t stop until my back hits the towel-stacked shelves, his hands coming to rest on either side of my head on the shelf above me.
“You know what, Valentina? I’ve had a long time to think about you—I mean us and your little disappearing act.
And seeing you at your brother’s birthday party, that anger…
disgust… yeah, that didn’t exactly come from nowhere, did it?
” His eyes sear into mine, searching for answers he should already know.
“I’m guessing, somewhere along the line, you and I got something very, very wrong.
And I say we should have a sit-down and put it all on the table and clear up this decade-old misunderstanding.
What do you say?” He aims his wicked smile my way, the one he must use on countless unsuspecting women.
The one he used on me before I knew better.
And even though I’m certain his cologne is working some weird spell on me, I have enough wits about myself to put him back in his place, where he belongs.
“Hmm, mansplaining my own lived experiences.” I smile.
“That’s a good one, Middlebrooks. But I have a job to do, and beyond their better judgment, you have fans waiting for a second of your attention.
So I’ll tell you how this,” I try to point back and forth within the minuscule space he’s left between us, “is going to go. I’m going to do my job and you’re going to stay out of my way. ”
“Is that so?” he challenges.
“Yep. But—” I sigh dramatically.
“What is it?” he asks far too eagerly.
“I am going to have to ask you for one pesky little favor.” I pout as I bring my hands up and start playing with the buttons of his jersey.
He goes rigid beneath my touch. “What’s that?” He clears his throat.
I smile deviously as I grab a strong hold on his jersey. “Stop. Thinking. About. Me.”
I didn’t mean to pull him closer as I spoke each word.
Didn’t mean to lift up higher on my tiptoes, bringing our lips dangerously close.
But as Ace’s chest vibrates with a low growl, his nose brushing against mine, I know he means the next two words he says with every fiber of his being.
“You. First.”
THE END
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Coming 2026