by Jody Holford
He loved it all. And hated that he was getting close to the end.
Actually, he was coming to terms with that piece. What he couldn’t stand the thought of was missing out on this opportunity of a lifetime, the one he’d waited for, because his body wasn’t healing quite the way it should.
“I thought you said your knee was better.”
Sawyer swung around, choking on a near gasp to see Addison staring up at him. His stomach seized at the…disappointment and concern swirling in her beautiful eyes. The woman had wicked eyes.
“What are you doing out here?”
They might work for the same organization, but they didn’t run in the same circles so to speak. He’d never seen her out on the field. She looked up and down, taking him in with her gaze, and Sawyer swore he felt his body heat just from that. Which was ridiculous. He didn’t get turned on from a look. What was it about this woman that pissed him off and intrigued him in equal measure?
“I came out to tell you I got you out of the game show thing. I heard you talking to Doc.”
This wasn’t good.
If word got out that he wasn’t 100 percent, even though he would be—he’d be ready—it could wreck everything. Liam and Isla would bench him if they got wind of anything.
“So you heard me tell him I’m absolutely fine. Thanks for getting me out of the game show thing. I need to shower.”
He started to walk away, ignoring the way his skin prickled at being so abrupt with her, but she called his name.
Turning, he stared, saying nothing.
Addison closed the space between them. “Part of my wellness initiative is not only maintaining health and balance but offering proactive solutions for athletes to be at the top of their game.”
He purposely let his eyes travel slowly over her body, up and then down. “You look good, but I’m betting you were never an athlete.”
She scowled. “Regardless, I work with athletes and have a long professional history of doing so. I’m well trained, educated, and informed for this position, and I can help you.”
Just what he needed, another woman who thought she could save him. When his mother wasn’t trying to manipulate him into helping out his screw-up brother, she was trying to hook him up with one woman after another who would “save” Sawyer from himself.
“I don’t need, or want, your help.”
Hurt flashed so quickly in her gaze, he thought he imagined it. “Fine.”
She started to walk off, and the fact that she was best friends with the owner twisted his gut. He didn’t like to play dirty, but he wasn’t missing out on everything he’d waited his whole life for.
“Addison,” he called.
This time she turned. “I told you, you can call me Addie.”
Which was sweet and suited her perfectly. All the more reason not to—he wasn’t getting close to another woman. Especially one he worked with. Technically.
“You told me your friends called you Addie. We’re not friends.”
She sucked in a breath, and he hated himself for one quick minute. But then he reminded himself baseball was his everything.
“I’m calling in my second favor.”
Her lip trembled, and Sawyer curled his hands into fists, fighting the urge to apologize.
“What is it?”
He walked closer, until there was only a few inches of space between them. She smelled better than the ball field, and that was saying something.
“You don’t mention any of this to anyone. Especially your best friend.”
Fire blazed in her eyes, and his stomach clenched for an entirely different, off-limits, reason. “I’m not a gossip.”
“Didn’t say you were. But career-altering rumors were started with less. So, not a word.”
“Whatever you say, Mr. McBain.”
He didn’t mean to grin, but he loved her attitude. “Thank you, Ms. Carlisle.”
She held out a hand to shake his, and it charmed the hell out of him. “That makes us even. Our association is finished.”
If asked, he’d have no idea why he did what he did next. Self-sabotage? Curiosity? Insanity? He looked down at her hand, gripped it, and used it to tug her gently toward him. Her eyes widened, but she had plenty of time to stop him before his mouth descended on hers. In fact, he stopped just before pressing his lips to hers and took a moment to breathe her in. If they were finished, he didn’t want to waste time wondering if she tasted as good as she smelled.
But shock increased his heart rate when she went up on her tiptoes. His breath hitched and made his voice huskier. “Even.”
Their eyes stayed locked, and his mouth went dry at the thought of closing the gap. There were mere millimeters separating them, her body was pushed up against his, and she didn’t even seem to mind that he was sweaty and dirty.
Addison reached up with one hand and tunneled it through his hair, using the leverage to pull his head down to hers.
“Also,” she whispered and his heart stopped in eager anticipation of what she’d say. “You act like a jerk but something tells me that’s all it is: an act. So if you change your mind and want actual help, you know where to find me.”
Before he could process the fact that he wouldn’t get the chance to press his lips to hers, she gave a little shove and stalked off, leaving him to watch after her like a lovesick puppy.
What the hell had just happened? This was exactly why Sawyer was steering clear of women. Baseball was his life and his love. It was the only thing he understood. Unfortunately, saying this over and over in his head while he showered and dressed for his meeting did not get Addison Carlisle out of his head.
…
Sawyer wasn’t sure why nerves gurgled in his gut when he walked into the boardroom. Isla Bennett sat at the side of the table, her head close to Liam Cruz’s. His buddy had fallen fast and hard, and the two were a knotted unit before most of the team, or the public, even knew the heavy hitter was interested. Some hearts had been broken there. Cruz was a media darling; something Sawyer, himself, would never be, for the simple fact that he hated the limelight.
“Come in, sit down,” the team lawyer, Josiah, said, pouring himself a glass of ice water from a pitcher.
Sawyer made his way to the end of the table so he could sit across from Cruz. There were a few other front of house suits, the team doctor, and a kid that looked familiar. The back of his neck went prickly when the kid eyed him up and down, a hint of a cocky sneer on his face.
When his phone buzzed, he slid it out and took a look. His agent needed to reschedule, but she had some good news for him. In her world—and his mother’s—that likely meant a commercial or some sort of endorsement deal. He shouldn’t shove his face in a gift horse’s mouth or whatever that stupid saying was, but still. Backing a product or idea that he believed in was one thing but mostly the opportunities he got were cash grabs. Again, money was good but he wanted his name, and his word, to mean something too.
“Have a seat, McBain. You look like you’re walking into the executioner’s lair,” Cruz joked, leaning back in the plush black chair.
“You’re not. Just to set the record straight,” Isla said.
He took a seat, offering her a one-sided smile. She was sweet but still a decider of his fate. Her dark hair and captivatingly dark eyes had thrown all the guys off when she’d originally taken over the team for her grandfather. There had been some serious shake-ups, but things were settling, and she was doing a damn good job. She listened to the advisors around her, including her fiancé.
“Lawyers and the suits aren’t usually a good sign,” Sawyer replied. He rubbed his palms on his jeans before he could catch himself.
“I’m harmless,” Josiah said, taking a seat.
A few of the others laughed. But Sawyer wasn’t here for idle chitchat. “Doc, you got them the paperwork on my knee?” Sawyer fixed his eyes on Oliver.
“I did. You’re in the clear,” Oliver said, glancing between him and Isla.
Cruz leaned forward and folded his arms on the long, gleaming table. They were friends. He loved his teammates like brothers—some of them more than his own brother. But realistically, when he hung up his mitt, he wouldn’t stay in touch with all of them. Cruz was one of the few who would make the cut.
Which was why his serious expression turned Sawyer’s stomach.
“Just spit it out, Cruz.” He leaned back to counter Liam’s position.
“This here is Mateo Vorrico. Twenty-two-year-old catcher from Izamal. One of our scouts was on a trip down there and happened to see him play.”
Sawyer did what he was supposed to do: he reached across the couple of chairs separating them and offered his hand. He wasn’t oblivious or stupid and he kept up on stats and rankings. The name reminded Sawyer why the guy was familiar. He watched the up-and-comers. Mateo Vorrico wasn’t just a catcher. Nope. He could also handle a sidearm pitcher like a pro. Hell of a skill.
“Sawyer McBain. Nice to meet you.”
The kid nodded, gripping his hand firmly. “I am a fan,” he said, his accent as noticeable as the blond streak in his otherwise dark hair.
Turning back to Isla and Liam, he jumped straight in. “You replacing me?” In time for the playoffs. His heart felt like a cement block in his chest.
“No,” Isla said, her face calm and compassionate. “We’re grooming him. Using you.”
So he was going to be a babysitter? For what would definitely be his replacement. He wasn’t surprised they were bringing in someone younger. George Renow, their second catcher, was a few years younger than Sawyer, but he’d be retiring one of these days as well. Logically, he couldn’t blame the organization for sniffing out new blood.
Illogically, he wanted to slam his fists on the table and tell them all he didn’t need a nudge toward any damn door. He was still in this season. He’d earned it. He’d been cleared to play and he didn’t appreciate them introducing him to their backup plan.
“This isn’t usually the way things play out,” Sawyer said.
Sometimes people got told, ‘You’re out’. Other times, they edged a player out by not letting him start. But to basically train his replacement? This wasn’t freaking Burger King.
“No. It’s not,” Isla said. She gave a subtle lift of her hand when Liam looked like he was going to say something in her defense. She held Sawyer’s gaze. “I’m either going to go down in history as the woman who made baseball more meaningful or the crazy one who owned a team for a short period of time.”
Liam laughed, and Sawyer saw the way his friend nearly covered his woman’s hand but then retracted it. Respect. It was clear in his expression and his actions. Sawyer had never felt the way Liam’s eyes showed he felt for Isla. What would that be like? Addison’s fiery gaze popped into his brain. Probably a ticking time bomb waiting to go off.
“I think you’ll make your mark in a dozen great ways,” Sawyer said genuinely.
Isla flushed at the praise. It wasn’t hard to see what Liam fell for. She was lovely. Much like her friend. Honest. Real. And off-limits.
“Thank you. I want to create and cultivate a sense of family on this team. Mateo isn’t here to take over your position. Cards on the table, we know you’re within five years of retirement. We are trying to rebuild a team that’s been mostly forgotten. To do that, we need to try new things but keep what matters. And I believe what matters at the core is heart. You have that. I want someone who has it ingrained in his soul, who loves the sport like a part of themselves, to mentor him. To make him part of our team and our family.”
It sounded all sweet and cozy, but it didn’t change his stance on feeling like a babysitter. If his knee acted up, if he tweaked it again, if they caught wind of the teeth-clenching pain that hit him sometimes without notice, Mateo would step in. Isla didn’t say that; hell, she might not even mean it. But that’s the way these things worked. Mateo was their insurance that Sawyer would do everything he could to stay in the game or get gone.
They talked a while longer, and though he didn’t doubt Isla’s belief in what she was saying, he didn’t believe in the execution. There was a reason things didn’t change and evolve over time in some areas of life. This was baseball. It was going to run as it had all these years. The Slammers might get into the series, and they wouldn’t choose family with a bum knee over a serious shot at the gold ring.
Sawyer left the meeting and the Slammers building feeling edgy and out of sorts. The fight—could he even call it that?—with Addison was eating away at him. He hated the way she’d looked at him and more, he’d hated the way he wanted to give in to her genuine offer of help.
He could smooth things over. It was a smart, strategic move on his part. Keep his enemies closer and all that.
As he climbed into his truck, shoulders tight, he picked up his phone and stared at it. Life went by really freaking fast. One day, it might seem like the whole world was a personal buffet and he was the only person at the feast. Other days, it felt like a crowded prison cell after a stale crust of bread had been dropped. Every man for himself.
He dialed without thinking it through. She picked up on the third ring, and the sound of her cheery hello stroked something inside of him. It took the irritation down several notches and loosened the tightness in his lungs.
“How was your meeting?” Addie’s voice had the distant sound like she was on speaker. She didn’t even question him for calling her. He wouldn’t have blamed her if she hadn’t picked up. He hadn’t exactly been Mr. Congeniality.
“Fine. What are you doing?” He put his truck into drive, the phone switching immediately to Bluetooth.
“Driving to an appointment.”
“What if we weren’t even quite yet?”
Silence.
He turned out of the parking lot in the direction of home. “You there?”
“I am,” she said, her voice a little breathy. His lungs stayed open, but other areas of him tightened. You’re going to be friends with her at most. Really, you’re just putting a cherry on top of a crappy day by proving to yourself that no one is as good as she seems to be.
“What does that mean?”
How the hell should he know? “I started thinking, what if you need a follow-up favor. Never hurts to have a famous ball player in your pocket, right?” What was he doing? Uh, spiraling out of control?
“Excuse me?” Her high-pitched tone made him grin.
“I’m asking another favor. That means I’ll owe you.”
He shook his head, not understanding why, when usually he craved solitude, he was seeking her out. Guilt over how he’d treated her? Or maybe it had something to do with how different she was. Unlike anyone he’d ever met. Sawyer liked puzzles, and he hadn’t figured her out yet. That’s all this was.
“What do you need?” Her tone was a caress and nearly undid him with the amount of longing it pumped through his blood.
Just like that, she was agreeing. Yeah. He was intrigued.
His own words got stuck in his throat for a half a second. “Meet me at West Way Golf Course. The driving range. How much time do you need to finish up your appointment?”
“Uh, about forty-five minutes. And I’m sorry, I just need to clarify—are you asking me to be your caddy as a favor?”
He chuckled. “No. That would require a round of golf, which I don’t feel like playing. Besides, my clubs probably weigh more than you do. I don’t need a caddy. But I’m thinking you’ll make an excellent ball girl.”
She snorted through the receiver, and her laughter filled the cab of his truck as if she were there. It didn’t escape his notice, thanks to the clutch in his chest, that he wished she was.
“I really hope you mean that literally. Otherwise I’m showing up just to knock you over the head.”
He smiled. “I mean it in the most
literal of ways. I’m in the mood to hit a couple buckets. You being there will save me having to trudge back and forth. Besides, I could use some company.”
He wasn’t sure what she read in his voice, but she smashed the nail on the head with her parting comment. “Hmm. Sounds like you could use a friend.”
Chapter Eight
Addie felt like she was trying to walk a straight line after spinning on a merry-go-round. There were plenty of reasons not to hang out with Sawyer, the biggest of which was that she wasn’t sure they even got along. But there’d been something in his voice that spoke to her on a different level. Maybe because she recognized it for what it was: loneliness. On her walk through the parking lot to the side of the golf course where the driving range was located, she made a list of the cons of slipping under Sawyer McBain’s sexy-guy spell.
Even as a friend.
He’s an athlete, which complicates things immediately. Though it didn’t apply to all of them, many had followings and groupies—women who wanted to be with them. It wasn’t that Addie didn’t think any were trustworthy but, in her opinion, long-distance relationships were hard enough without several forms of temptation being tossed at a person in every city. Their first game of the playoffs was an away game, so he’d be heading out of town tomorrow evening.
Also, Sawyer was closed off; she was outgoing. She worked with him, technically. She wasn’t looking to date—or make new friends—while she was finding her feet in her new position and trying to find her place here in Nashville. Relationships never worked out well for her; hence the reason she wasn’t in one. Even friendships took time she didn’t always have.
“And, the most important part, he wasn’t asking you to be interested,” she muttered as she turned the corner and almost ran into a six-foot wall of Sawyer yumminess.
He gripped her shoulders and looked down at her with an amused expression. “Talking to yourself?”
Her face warmed almost as much as the spot where his hands touched her skin. “I do that sometimes.”
