“Definitely.” Fishing a tee from my pocket, I hand it to him. “I work with multiple basketball and soccer clients too. As someone who values quality, I’ll always make sure every client gets their own unique partnership with me.”
He sticks the tee into the ground and places a yellow ball on top. “Do you practice these answers in the mirror?”
“Sometimes, yes. But today you’re getting answers straight from my brain.”
Garrett hums his approval but keeps his eyes on the ball. It gets lost in a forest of trees, and he laughs. I love that he doesn’t let it get him down. “Well, that brain of yours is definitely helping my decision. Now hit the ball. I need to figure out a way to beat you by the end of the ninth hole.”
Shayzilla roars from deep inside me. “We’ll see about that.”
Chapter Nineteen
The Pilots are onfire, and it’s not their special gold uniforms.
Still, the Pilots and Jackals are neck-in-neck. The last game of a series is my favorite because with two phenomenal teams like this, it’s a fight to the finish.
“These are some nice seats,” Brett says, stuffing a handful of popcorn into his mouth.
“I’ve already thanked you like ten times.” I nudge his arm off my arm rest. “I get it. You’re popular.”
Thanks to my basketball client’s star status, we got the best seats in the house. Well, to me. Most people would give their left lung to sit behind home plate, but my happy place is between home plate and the first-base dugout. The harmonious sound of cracking bats and snapping gloves is best from here.
Brett leaps to his feet when Dawson strikes out another Jackal, hollering for the man on the pitcher’s mound. He’s got the lungs of a toddler who had sugar for lunch.
A smug smile pulls at my lips. “I’m starting to question your lifelong hatred for baseball.”
Affronted eyes cut in my direction. “I never said I hated it. I said I didn’t get the hype.”
Maybe not, but he does now. After two seasons with the NC Grizzlies, it’s about time Brett dipped his toe into other professional sports in Charlotte. Halfway through the third inning, he promised to attend a Carolina Rage soccer match. Holly and Victoria will be thrilled.
“So, how’d it go with the future Mrs. Blane?” he asks, never taking his eyes off the field.
Layla was even sweeter than she looked, with adorable dimples and ringlet curls that shone like molten gold under the stadium lights. I expected her to be like Adri, but the moment she sat down, she was like Jo in that quiet way I love.
I shrug. “It went well.”
“Do you think she’ll give you a glowing endorsement?”
Again, I shrug. Making a good impression on family members and partners is important because they can sway recommendations, but I want Garrett to work with me because he thinks I’m the best agent for his career. Still, I hope she liked me.
Brett stuffs another handful of popcorn into his mouth. “How much longer until you get an answer from him? You’ve been courting him forever. He can’t keep stringing you along.”
“He isn’t, Brett,” I explain. “Garrett is exploring his options and figuring out who best fits his needs, which is normal. I probably won’t know for another few months.”
Courtships often require a slow-burn strategy. I must prove my value to him over time, not with one flashy pitch. It’s part power play, part chess game.
Lucky for me, I love a good slow burn.
“Well, I picked you after one phone call—what the hell? That was a strike!” Brett leaps to his feet and waves down the plate umpire.Thankfully, the man ignores my passionate client. When he finally sits down, he grins. “Why didn’t I know baseball was cool like this?”
The crowd cheers as the Pilots make the third out, bringing us into the bottom of the ninth inning. As Cade jogs to the dugout, stopping to pat Dawson’s butt, I notice his gait is smooth with no limp. I’m still upset with myself for not bringing it up earlier.
Brett shivers, rubbing his arms. “That was weird.”
“What was?” I ask.
“You know that feeling of being watched?” I nod, and his eyes shift to the home-team dugout. “I’ve been feeling that way all night and couldn’t put my finger on why. Then your newest client ran by, and I felt like I was stabbed by a million daggers.”
It wasn’t until I sat down in our seats that I realized the colossal issue. I’ve got front-row seats to Cade and all the things that make him my favorite baseball player. The way he rocks forward on his toes between pitches, ready and twitching with energy. The crease in his jersey from bending forward to catch his breath. The double pat to his thigh when deep in thought. The beads of sweat running down his cheek that he never wipes away, refusing to be distracted for even a second during a play.
