Chapter 4
“How do you feel about traveling with the team?” my best friend, Denise, asks. She’s sitting on my unmade bed, watching me pack.
“I shouldn’t really have much interaction with them,” I answer as I pack my favorite pomegranate body wash, then visibly shake my head to remove the image of Max smiling at me while calling me Peaches.
Damn that beautiful man. “I’ll be behind the scenes, getting their meals ready and ensuring all the food is up to team standards. ”
“It seems so odd that you have to travel with them just to pack their lunch boxes,” she says with a snort. “God, can you imagine? They all roll off the team bus, carrying their Iron Man or Star Wars lunch boxes.”
“With a matching thermos, of course,” I add, giggling.
“That’s only a piece of it. I’m in charge of all the supplements they take and getting the hydration ready before the games.
Depending on what the guys need, I might make game-time changes to their diet or snack selection, or I might add some kind of supplement after the game.
Honestly, I’ll probably chat with each guy a total of ten or fifteen minutes per day. ”
Humming noncommittally, Denise nods. “And how do you think the small time slot will go with Mr. Grumpypants McJumpHisBones?”
I stop folding a tank top to stare at her. “Let’s not call him that.”
“Why not?” she whines. “I think it’s perfect. I’d certainly jump his bones if given the opportunity. Have you seen that man’s abs? They look painted on!”
“Maybe they are,” I mutter, stuffing the tank top into my luggage.
I doubt they’re painted on. Max Callahan was gifted with wonderful genetics to look like he does, even when he eats like a teenage boy.
“I’m honestly surprised he didn’t completely blow his lid when I told him I wouldn’t work with him.
Coach is backing me up, thankfully. Every time I interact with Max, he seems to piss me off even more. ”
“Do me a favor,” Denise says.
“Okay?”
“When you fuck him, I expect a vivid description of his abs. No, wait. I want a description of his whole body. Leave nothing out.”
“Dee, there’s a literal rule against fraternization with players. I’d get fired.”
“Only if they find out,” she teases. Standing from the bed, she skips her way into my tiny walk-in closet. “Better take some sexy clothes just in case.”
“No,” I protest. “Seriously. I like this job. I want to keep it for longer than a few months.”
She scoffs as she walks out with a black dress. “At least make him drool. Where is the series? That’ll determine what shoe I tell you to throw in there.”
“It’s in Chicago, and then we go to Dallas.
A strapless dress isn’t a good idea for one, and the other location could have tornadoes in late March, Dee.
I doubt I’ll voluntarily wear a dress in either place.
” I shove a couple of sports bras, along with some workout clothes, into the suitcase.
I hope to use the hotel gym in Chicago, but I might try to get outside in Dallas if the weather is nice enough.
The best part about moving to Colorado has been all the mountain hiking I’ve been able to do, but I’d love to see how I feel exercising at sea level again.
“Oh!” she gasps, her eyes lighting up as she shoves the dress into my hands. Swiveling, she charges back into the closet. “Where’s that cute light blue sweater you have? It makes your eyes appear more blue than gray.”
I sigh as I look down at the dress. I’ve only worn it a couple of times, but every time, it’s made me feel confident and on top of the world.
Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad thing to keep in my suitcase.
In case there’s a little black dress emergency.
While it might make Max drool — not that I care one way or another if he does — I’m not completely opposed to having some fun while on road trips.
For the most part, I’ll be incredibly busy on the road, but there are a few trips where we have a rest day.
Downloading a dating app just for a quick hookup might be a grand way to pass the time.
“Do the Raptors ever have a home game on Opening Day?” Denise asks, her voice muffled as she rifles through my clothes.
“The schedule varies, and sometimes they don’t even play until after Opening Day. There’s only one team in baseball that is guaranteed to have a home game on Opening Day.”
“Oh? Who?”
“Cincinnati.”
“Why?”
“Cincinnati had the first professional team, and their Opening Day has a huge celebration. It’s almost considered a holiday in the city.”
“That’s kinda cool. I could get behind boozing it up on a random Thursday afternoon.”
I chuckle. “I’m surprised you know it’s on a Thursday.”
Denise steps out from the closet, holding my blue sweater up victoriously. “I can pay attention when you talk, you know.”
“It’s just not an everyday thing.”
“Exactly. Now I’d love to suggest you wear those knee-high boots I convinced you to buy last year, but I think we both know you’re somehow going to end up in sneakers.” Denise doesn’t blink as she regards me with clear disdain in her eyes.
“I wouldn’t wear sneakers with a dress,” I snap. “At least I don’t think I would. Plus, the boots will take up too much room in my suitcase.”
“So use the bigger suitcase,” she replies, shaking her head in confusion. “But I’m betting you’ve already decided you’ll only take the carry-on luggage so you don’t take up too much space. Lay, the team has its own plane. You can take a bigger suitcase.”
Sitting on the edge of my bed, I look down at the floral sheets.
I fell in love with the feminine pattern, choosing to match it with an oversized pink duvet cover and incredibly fluffy duvet.
It’s unlike the me people see out in the world.
While I’m extroverted and someone who finds joy in most things, in my personal space, I get to relax.
Looking around, I see how much of me fills the room.
White furniture with pops of pink and a muted mint green.
Loads of pillows dropped haphazardly around, and a beautiful coral rose wallpaper covers one wall. I love my room, where I get to be me.
“How many pairs of panties are you bringing?” Denise asks, tossing the blue sweater onto the heap next to my suitcase. “At least I know you’re covered there. Never met someone who always matches her bra and underwear as much as you. I bet men go wild for that shit.”
“They do,” I say with a giggle. From the moment I had a job and adult money to spend, I’ve been obsessed with matching bra and panties sets.
No matter how bland and professional I have to dress for my job, I love knowing I’m wrapped in bows and lace underneath.
But I hate wondering if Max would like to see my sets, and if he’d enjoy unwrapping me like a gift.
“Listen. I’m forcing you into a bigger bag.
You have to take the boots. There are no other cold-weather shoes that’ll work with that dress, and I think it’ll kill me if you wear it with sneakers or Crocs.
Promise me, Layla,” she says, her gaze pleading.
“If you get an opportunity to wear this dress, you must wear the boots.”
“Alright,” I say with a long sigh. “I highly doubt I’ll get a chance to wear it. Only time it’ll happen is if we have an off night and I go on a date or something.”
Denise’s eyes light up. “Oh, yes! Please do. And broadcast it to everyone. I can’t wait to hear how Mr. Grumpypants McJumpMyBones feels about that.”
“I thought it was McJumpHisBones.”
She quirks an eyebrow at me. “I mean, is there really a difference? Someone is jumping, but you’ll reap the benefits in either case.”
I guess that’s true.
The following day, I’m dragging my heavy carry-on toward the team plane.
It still feels surreal to pull up to a private terminal within Denver International Airport, instead of standing in line for TSA like every other normal minion out there.
Nevertheless, it continues to feel … odd.
Dropping my main luggage off without having to weigh it — or pay for it — still tickles me.
“Shit,” I whisper, looking at the steps up to the airplane. This carry-on is packed to the brim with every last item Denise claimed I just had to have at arm’s reach. “I didn’t think this through.”
Silently cursing Denise and her plea for sexy boots, I place one foot on the first step, then grab onto the suitcase.
“Are you moving to Chicago, Peaches? Or are you planning outfit changes for every inning?” The deep and growly voice behind me sends a shiver down my spine, and as I whirl to face Max, I can only hope he didn’t see my visible reaction.
“Excuse me?” I ask haughtily, tilting my chin up to regard him with disdain. One corner of his mouth turns up in a smirk, and it only makes him appear sexier.
“You heard me,” he murmurs. “You gonna manhandle that behemoth up the stairs by yourself, or do you think you can manage to ask for help? I’d hate to offer and mess with your feminist energy.”
“Please,” I scoff. “You would never offer to help me. You’ve made that clear.”
Another man jogs up to us, giving me a grin. Jake Holloway. “I can grab it for you, Layla. By the way, my mom loved that bean salad recipe you sent to me. She made me promise I’d tell you. I haven’t made it yet, but I’m going to soon.”
I beam as I look at Jake. He’s cute in an earnest way, and I imagine we could be friends.
I’m not attracted to his all-American charm, though.
Evidently, I’m much more into a brooding grump who is currently scowling at me.
“I’m so glad she enjoyed it, Jake. It’s such a lovely way to add protein and flavor to your diet. ”
“Have you tried her bean salad yet, Max?” Jake asks, smiling innocently at Max.
“No,” Max grumbles.
“Of course not, Jake,” I say cheerfully. “There aren’t enough chemicals and preservatives in there for Sunshine.”
“Give me your damn suitcase, and get on the plane,” he mutters.