Girl Three

by Tracy March

  “Fitting,” Frank muttered.

  Cole had hesitated to order his favorite breakfast, knowing Frank would have something to say about it, but the sirloin steak, egg, and cheese burrito seemed like the best way to fortify himself against what was coming. He handed the waitress the oversized old-newspaper-style menu.

  “Coming right up,” she said and headed toward the open-air kitchen at the back of the dining area. Cole would swear she’d put a little extra in the sway of her hips.

  Frank’s salty remark still hung between them. Cole understood that his agent was still pissed about his brush with the law last weekend—hell, he was still pissed at himself. This was their first time face-to-face since then. Frank had been remarkably quiet about the situation at the time, then the Nats had gone on a road trip the next day. Since Frank wasn’t one to hash out sensitive issues on the phone, Cole expected to hear what-was-what from him this morning. Frank had always had his back, so Cole felt like he owed the guy the respect to sit and take the ass-chewing he deserved.

  It helped that Frank was a seasoned agent—not slick and fake like some of the younger ones—but smart and experienced and wise. The guy could also wrangle some pretty impressive deals. Cole had needed plenty of wrangling to keep himself employed over the years—and possibly over the last week. No doubt Frank’s negotiating skills had gone a long way toward keeping him from in front of the mug-shot camera that past Sunday.

  “Last night was our lucky night, son,” Frank said, his intense gaze now on Cole.

  Cole couldn’t imagine what had been lucky about it. The Nats had lost to the Giants after eleven innings, starting the weekend series with a loss, and with the playoffs right around the corner, this was no time to be losing. But if that’s what Frank wanted to discuss, Cole was willing. Talking about last night was a heck of a lot better than talking about last week.

  “Lucky how?” Cole asked.

  “You see the tweet about the Sutherland girl?”

  The guy never missed anything. Sometimes Cole wondered if Frank kept up with him better than he kept up with himself.

  Sutherland girl? Cole shook his head.

  Frank pulled his iPhone from his pocket and put his beefy fingers to work. He handed the phone to Cole just as the waitress arrived with their breakfast.

  BADD Athletes Foundation @BADDAthletes

  @LizaSutherland wins silent auction date with Nationals’ All-Star first baseman @ColeCollins. #nowthatsaprize

  That’s strange…

  “You look confused,” Frank said, wasting no time digging into his heaping plateful of food.

  Cole stared at the tweet, and let his breakfast sit. “I forgot all about this.”

  “Well, the timing couldn’t be better, considering the stunt you pulled last week.” Frank swiped his napkin across his mouth and scowled. “Who would’ve thought you’d be needing some positive publicity from an anti-drug program? I hope BADD took out a front-page ad in the Post.”

  Cole set the phone on the table and rubbed his forehead. This was the conversation he’d been expecting. “The drugs were Nikki’s, Frank. Sure, I might’ve had one too many drinks. That was obvious.” He shook his head. “But no drugs. You know that. My test came back clean.”

  “I know it.” Frank stabbed his fork toward Cole. “You know it. And the Nationals know it. But it’s the optics, son. And the Nats don’t need your kind of trouble. The girls, the booze, the drugs—whether they’re yours or not. You’re in too deep with all of it.”

  Cole took a slug of his coffee to keep himself from saying anything else.

  “We’ve got contract negotiations coming up,” Frank said. “On the field, you’ve set yourself up fine—two seasons running. But I was getting questions even before last week about your shenanigans off the field. The Nats’ big-wigs think you might be wearing yourself out with all that carousing.” He piled his fork full of eggs and hash browns, and held it just above his plate. “Then you went and pulled that stunt with Nikki what’s-her-name, and almost got yourself arrested. You’re giving ’em plenty of reason to worry that you won’t be a good investment long-term.”

  “They’re seeing things as worse than they are,” Cole said defensively, knowing he was wrong. The Nats were big on high-character players, and most of them were settled with wives and kids. The owners worked hard to keep everything classy from the front office on down. They were all like one big family, but Cole was the black sheep right now.

  “I think they’re seeing things 20/20,” Frank said firmly. “And they’re the ones with the ball club. They can contract whomever they want. They’ve come across guys like you before, and they’ve been burned once or twice.”

  “We can go to a different team,” Cole said without conviction.

  Frank lowered his thick eyebrows. “The Nats might be heading to the World Series this year—I’m seeing a pennant at worst. You want to leave a team on that kind of high?”

  Cole shook his head. He and Frank both knew he didn’t want to leave the Nationals. They’d all busted their asses to get as far as they had, and he was lucky to be there with them. Plus, he’d practically grown up with the Nats. He’d been totally alone after he’d been drafted, but he’d found a home with his team, and the closest thing to a family he’d ever had. He’d struggled for five frustrating years, but they’d kept him around anyway, and now he was finally performing. He’d figured that’s all it would take for them to keep him, but clearly he’d figured wrong.

  The reality he’d ignored hit him like a wild pitch: he needed the Nationals. He’d never admit it to anyone, but he didn’t want to be alone again.

  Frank picked up his phone, tapped the screen, and glanced at the tweet. “That’s why this date with the Sutherland girl sets up perfect for us.”

  Cole finally took a bite of his burrito. He couldn’t argue that this was a good time for him to be associated with the BADD Athletes Foundation, but he wondered why Liza Sutherland had surfaced all of a sudden.

  He hadn’t seen her since they were teenagers—and he was curious how she’d grown up. “Let me see that tweet again.” Frank handed him the phone. He tapped the link to Liza’s profile, and her picture came up. One glance at her and his pulse fired like a home-run headed for the upper deck.

  Holy…

  The woman he saw looked nothing like the girl he remembered. She had long, dark red hair, sparkling green eyes, and a pretty, genuine smile. Cole figured her for a city girl, but she had a kind of small-town innocent look that was hard to find anymore. He couldn’t believe she was the same girl who’d hung around her father’s baseball camp for weeks, just for him.

  He read her profile: Manager of Camp Operations for the BADD Athletes Foundation.

  So she worked organizing the same kind of camps where they’d met. Cole totally respected that, especially considering all the more glamorous opportunities her parents could’ve hooked her up with. Cole winced at the thought of John and Sylvia Sutherland, but he knew better than to dwell on them. His rocky past with Liza’s folks had nothing to do with her.

  “You don’t look too thrilled,” Frank said. “The way I see it, we coulda done much worse.”

  “For sure.” Cole stole another glance at Liza’s picture. “I’m okay with it.” And why wouldn’t he be? Liza Sutherland was smokin’ hot.

  Frank nodded. “The girl’s a looker—good job, solid family. We can forgive ’em this once for being in the tank for the Orioles.” He smiled. Anyone who liked baseball was all right with him—they kept business going and money streaming in.

  “No need to worry about her job or her family,” Cole said. “It’s just one date.” He took a bite of his burrito, enjoying the tender steak and creamy cheese, until Frank’s raised-eyebrow look made him stop chewing. “What?” he murmured through a mouthful.

  “This Sutherland girl works for drug-free BADD.” Frank took a swallow of his Bloody Mary and licked his lips. “Going out with her will make it look like you’re cleani
ng up your act. Besides, she’s our chance to prove you’re settling down, at least until we get your contract negotiated.”

  “Whoa. I’m not sure what you mean by that, but I’m sure I don’t like the idea.” He gave Frank a serious stare. “Listen, we’ve already gotten the positive publicity from the BADD donation, and the timing couldn’t have been better. One date—we’re good. I promise I’ll behave after that.” He winked.

  Frank looked at him as if he was sixteen kinds of crazy. “We’re talking about your future, son. Seven years you’ve spent toiling your way to the top. You’re twenty-nine, and not getting any younger.” Frank shrugged his broad shoulders. “But with two All-Star seasons under your belt, a Gold Glove, and a Silver Slugger, we can name your price—as long as you make it look like your partying-and-playboy days are done.”

  Cole flinched. “I hear you.” And I know you’re right. He let out a long, labored sigh. “It needs to look like I’m settling down.” At least for a couple of months.

  “Bingo.” Frank stared him in the eye. “No other women except Liza Sutherland. And it wouldn’t hurt your cause if you went and did something traditional like fall in love…propose…get married. ”

  Cole groaned as nerves knotted his stomach. He’d sat down at this breakfast free and single. Before he could even eat a burrito, Frank had him set up on a date, faithful to one woman, in love, engaged, and married. “You’re getting way ahead of yourself, man.”

  Frank splayed his hands on either side of his plate, straightened his back, and leaned forward. “How bad do you want a new contract with the Nats, son?”

  Cole raked his hand through his hair and grabbed a fistful of it in the back. After a moment he said, “There’s nothing I want more.”

  Frank tossed his napkin on the table and relaxed in his seat. “Well, there you go.”

  The waitress stopped by and asked, “Anything else for you gentlemen?”

  Looking pleased with himself, Frank nodded and smiled. “I’ll have a homemade peanut-butter-and-bacon pop tart to go.”

  The thought of eating peanut butter and bacon in the same mouthful made Cole’s stomach a little queasy. So did the idea of settling down. But after the waitress left, he pushed his plate aside and propped his elbows on the table. “You’ve never steered me wrong before, Frank. So I’m willing to play along with your plan.” He cleared his throat. “But we’ve got to find a different girl.” Because things are a little complicated between me and Liza Sutherland’s folks. “Liza would never go for this.”

  “No can do,” Frank said without hesitation. “I coulda personally recruited a bunch of ladies and not come up with a more wholesome gal—she’s perfect for what we need.”

  About the Author

  Award-winning author Tracy March writes romantic thrillers influenced by her career in the pharmaceutical field and her interest in science and politics. She also writes lighthearted romances inspired by her real-life happily ever after.

  Always up for travel and adventure, Tracy has flown in a stunt plane, snowmobiled on the Continental Divide, zip lined in the Swiss Alps, and been chased by a bull in the mountains of St. Lucia. She loves Nationals baseball, Saturday date nights, and Dairy Queen Blizzards—and rarely goes a day without Diet Coke and Cheez-Its.

  Tracy lives in Yorktown, Virginia with her superhero husband, who works for NASA. They recently spent two years living in Washington, D.C., and enjoy visiting often—especially when the Nats are in town.

  Visit Tracy online at www.TracyMarch.com.