Chapter 4
“Damn, that was kinda hot,” Ivory mutters beside me.
“He’s young, but I bet he knows what he’s doing with that tongue,” Taylor adds from my other side. Heat crawls up my neck as I blush.
Yes, he does know what he’s doing.
His words from earlier come back to me. “When I score tonight, I’ll do something special so you know I’m thinking of you.”
Remembering the flutter of his tongue on me has me wanting more. Knowing everyone in the stadium and watching on television saw his celebration and that it was pointed in my direction has me on edge.
When he takes his helmet off, Taylor looks at me then back at the field.
“Wait, is that—” I elbow her in the stomach.
My eyes cut in her direction to stop her before she reveals my one-night stand to Ivory and anyone else in our vicinity that is paying attention.
It feels like all eyes are on me. Like I’m wearing a neon sign alerting everyone that I slept with the team rookie.
Me, the team’s lawyer.
If this got out, it could ruin everything I’ve worked towards for years.
“Yes,” I hiss.
“WOW,” she mouths to me silently.
I communicate my surprise as well with widened eyes and silent telepathic communication. I know she won’t let it go, and we’ll talk about it later, but for now I can escape the conversation.
She’s been spending more time in Nashville lately, staying with me or Ivory, and sometimes at a hotel when she “needs a break from people.” I wish she’d just move here instead of constantly traveling.
Until then, we’ll take what we can get. This is the most the three of us have been together since we graduated college.
Our friendship is tighter than ever despite the distance over the years.
Having my girls close by warms my heart.
I was lonely before Ivory moved here. I’d never tell her, but her decision to move two doors down was a lifeline I didn’t realize I needed. I don’t have many friends in the city and work makes it difficult to get out and make new ones.
Coworkers as friends is out of the question when the majority of the men in the office are part of the elusive boy’s club and overall pricks. It’s also frowned upon for front office staff to get too close with the players.
The fact that I’ve become best friends with Miller, our catcher and resident most eligible bachelor, hasn’t gone unnoticed in the office.
I regularly dodge comments about shagging a player and getting too close.
Lately, it’s made going to work a lot harder than it ever was before.
Now with Chase here, I can only imagine what will happen if anyone finds out we fucked each other’s brains out last November.
I’m walking a minefield without markers, praying they won’t go off in my face.
The game passes quickly with both pitchers locking down the game after the Troubadours took an early lead.
We score once more, rounding out the score at 4-0.
Chase didn’t score again, but he did get another hit.
His fielding was strong, which will serve him well.
Our former shortstop was good, but nothing compared to Chase Bennett, who is the total package.
For baseball.
Total baseball package.
No other type of package.
We head down to the field like we always do after a home game to meet the guys before they shower. Ivory walks ahead of us, greeting Preston in a familiar embrace. Even married and after more than three years together, they’re both still infatuated with each other.
“Gabs,” Preston says when I make it down to field level. He reaches an arm out to give me a side hug.
Only Preston calls me Gabs. He and I became close when he moved in with Ivory, and now he and I have a special relationship. He’s protective but not overbearing. The big brother to Miller’s little brother.
Speaking of, my terror of a best friend runs up behind me and lifts me while shouting, “Gabby Gab, did you see how I rounded those bases?”
I roll my eyes. Every game he asks if I saw something he did while also managing to over-exaggerate what it was.
“I’m surprised you still know how to run at all,” I snark back. His batting average is low this year, and when he does get on base, he either gets out or is left on base when the inning ends.
“Low blow, Gab.” He puts his hand on his hips and glares at me.
“I was impressed, Mills. At least you’re rounding some bases.” Taylor never misses an opportunity to take a jab at Miller.
“Now, Tay Tay. You know I don’t kiss and tell.” He shoots her a wink and sends an air kiss at the same time.
“Who are you kissing and not telling?” Preston asks, joining our huddle.
“Only you big guy.” The bromance is still strong with these two.
I’m distracted by our friends as the sports reporter pulls Chase aside to interview him after his big debut.
Getting closer, I try to listen in on what he’s saying to her, telling myself it’s to make sure he doesn’t say anything he shouldn’t.
I’m not in charge of the communications or the public relations teams, but I still make it a point to know what the players should and should not be saying on camera.
“Chase, how do you feel after making your big league debut?” the reporter asks. What an original first question. I barely stop myself from rolling my eyes.
“Great. These guys were so welcoming. I felt right at home. I’m glad I was able to make a big play in my first at bat to get us on the board.”
“Let’s talk about that. Your nickname is ‘The Chaser’ because of your stolen base percentage in the minors. What is it about stealing bases for you?”
He makes eye contact with me and answers, “It’s all about the thrill for me. The chase, psyching out the pitcher, catching them off guard—It’s fun.” He shrugs at the end, appearing nonchalant about it.
“You’re also known for your celebrations when you score. Want to explain today’s celebration when you slid into home?”
“I wanted to taste the dirt.” He stares me down when he answers and the innuendo in his tone has my panties melting at the memory.
“G, you ready to go?” Ivory calls from the gate. The boys are already walking down the tunnel to get their showers before meeting us at home.
“Yep, coming.” I quickly walk to catch up with the girls and shake off the feeling of Chase’s stare. It can’t happen again. It was one time between strangers. Him being here means nothing.
It. Changes. Nothing.
The knock on my closed office door pulls me away from the contracts I’ve been reviewing this morning.
I asked Coach Crenshaw to have Chase stop by my office to fill out some missing paperwork.
Just knowing he’s on the other side of the door has my heart beating faster and butterflies swarming in my stomach.
As much as I tried to not think about him last night, it didn’t work.
I’ve been thinking about the man from the island for months, and coming face-to-face with him again at work yesterday did nothing to soothe the ache.
Then watching him play had me running for my vibrator the minute I was finally alone.
“Come in,” I call out and stand from behind my desk, smoothing down my black pencil skirt in the process.
He saunters into my office like he owns the place while he eyes me up and down, making my heart race at the familiarity I see in his appreciative gaze.
Focusing on maintaining professionalism and the mask of indifference, I speak first. “Mr. Bennett, thank you for coming by. Please have a seat.” I motion to the chair in front of my desk.
“Mr. Bennett now, is it?” A smirk tips Chase’s lips, drawing my attention briefly.
“Well, Matt isn’t your name.” I say, referring to the name he gave me when we met in St. John.
Stupid response Gabrielle. You knew his name wasn’t Matt long before today.
You can’t hold it against him now. “It’s best if we keep it professional.
I’m a member of the front office staff and you’re a player. ”
“Okay, Ms. Pierson. If that’s how you want to play it.” He lowers into the chair and spreads his legs. “Why am I here?” My eyes linger a fraction too long before I respond.
“Some documents for you to sign.” I slide the papers across my desk.
The sooner we get this over with, the sooner he is out of my office.
Candidly, he could’ve gone to HR to fill these out, or I could’ve had my assistant handle it.
I also could’ve sent them electronically, but the excuse to see him—to see if this thing between us was still present or just a blip—had me summoning him to my office instead.
“What are these?” He doesn’t pick up the papers or the pen sitting beside them. He simply stares me down, smirking like he can read my thoughts and is purposely dragging this out.
“Terms of your employment now that you’ve been called up.
Code of Conduct. No fraternization policy.
” I don’t know why I call that one out specifically.
A reminder for myself that I can look but can’t touch.
I shouldn’t be looking either, but I’m only human.
He’s wearing Troubadour blue gym shorts and a black sweat wicking T-shirt that should be illegal on his broad chest. The muscles and toned lines are barely hidden behind the lightweight fabric. Again, he catches me checking him out.
“Well, it’s a little late for that one, isn’t it? We’ve already f—” I purse my lips unamused, “fraternized.” He finishes with a cocky wink.
“There was no fraternizing,” I hiss.
Fuck, I was hoping it was a blip, but the way my body is reacting to him right now, I know it’s not, especially when he says, “Oh yeah, what do you call me being balls deep in your pussy then, Princess?” My face flames. I clench at the memory of him inside me, causing me to squirm in my chair.
“Keep your voice down.” My eyes dart to the open doorway. Thankfully, it’s rare someone wanders to this end of the building.
“Why? Worried someone may come in and hear?”
“This is neither the time nor the place. We are not speaking about that night. Not now. Not ever.”
“What would your boyfriend think seeing you all worked up right now?” The question isn’t venomous, but more curious after overhearing my conversation about a date yesterday when he was eavesdropping from the doorway.
“I don’t have a boyfriend.” Of all the things to say, that was the wrong one. He was fishing and I played directly into his hand. The spark of interest in his eyes is undeniable. He plans to hang onto that little nugget.
“You’re wet and ready to fraternize right now, aren’t you?” he taunts.
What did I do in a past life to deserve this torture? The only man to ever make me feel desired—to give me more than one orgasm—has to be a player on our team. A player who is ten years younger and the hottest rookie in the league.
“Stop it.” I clear my throat and cross my legs to keep the pulse in my core at bay. Because yes, seeing him again ignited all the feelings from our night together. The man is a walking temptation.
And he has tattoos.
“It looked like you were thinking about it last night.” His tongue flicks out, wetting his lips before capturing his bottom lip with his teeth. He’s too pleased with himself at my obvious discomfort.
“I was not. I was merely making sure your first post-game interview went off without issue. It’s part of my job.” I deserve a gold medal for keeping my voice neutral and not panting like a dog at his filthy words and innuendos.
“Sure thing, Princess. Thought your job was the lawyer part, not the PR part.” He motions to the papers in front of him and the nameplate that sits on my desk.
“It is, but I keep a close ear to the ground on all the players when I’m around. It’s called being dedicated to my work and this team.”
“Is that what they call it?”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Affronted, I slam the pen down on top of the paperwork in front of him.
I’m sick of people assuming the worst of women in this industry.
As if the only way we can succeed is to sleep our way to the top or have some inside connection.
I’ve worked my ass off. Proven my worth and put up with a metric ton of shit from the men in the industry who are supposed to be my bosses and peers.
“I didn—” He sits up in his chair, reaching towards me. A hint of guilt flashes across his face, but I interrupt whatever he was going to say.
“I am a goddamn professional. This is, and will be, nothing more than a professional relationship. Any delusions you have about that changing or what may have happened between us before I realized who you were are just that—delusions.”
“So, Bree is a fantasy and Gabrielle is untouchable?” He picks up the pen and I hold my breath as he starts signing.
“Yes,” I breathe out, relieved when he finishes.
“I can respect that.” He places the pen back on the desk and pushes out of the chair. I don’t trust myself to speak, so I just watch as he walks to the door. Unfortunately for me, he takes a parting shot with a look over his shoulder.
“For now. But Bree, you know where to find me when that changes.” He shoots me a wink and a sinful grin as he checks me out one final time before he strolls out the door and down the hall.
Frazzled, I cross the room and close the door, locking it behind him and leaning my back against the cool wood to regain my composure.
I’m surprised I don’t suffocate from the tension he left in my office.
This is why I’ve never had a one-night stand before.
Karma hates me and delivered him straight to my office door wrapped in a warning label.
I collect the papers in a stack and move back behind my desk to sign them for the team, witnessing beside his signature as I go. When I get to the last page, it’s blank.
He signed all but one of the papers—the fraternization policy.
Fucking hell.