chapter 26
Dallas
Chase Stern stepped off the bus, shifting his bag higher on his shoulder.
Moving forward, he ignored the shouts from fans, their line of bodies packed in on either side, hands reached out over the barricade fence, balls and notepads thrust out, an undulating wave of obligations.
A pair of tits caught his eye, and he slowed, stretching and taking a Sharpie from the perky blonde. “What’s your name?” he asked.
“Kristin,” she beamed, and when she leaned forward and adjusted the hem of her shorts, he could see everything.
He scribbled her name on the jersey she held out, glancing backward, his eyes connecting for a brief moment with Ty, her step off the bus quick and no-nonsense, her eyes moving off his, her face unchanging.
“My number.” The blonde tried to hand him a piece of hot pink paper.
“I’m good.” He waved it off, capping the marker and handing it back.
“Just take it,” she insisted, still holding it out.
He took the next pen and scribbled out another signature, ignoring the paper, which seemed to make the blonde more insistent. Giving another two autographs, he stepped back, waving a hand to the crowd and avoiding the eyes of the blonde.
He didn’t analyze his actions. Didn’t wonder why his overactive sex drive seemed to have suddenly gone on hiatus. It was probably about time he stopped screwing around—especially with the Yankees, a team that frowned on scandal of any sort.
He stepped toward the building, following the line of players who had passed, his eyes finding and resting on a figure, shorter than all the others, one blonde ponytail bobbing among the men.