We spend the next couple of hours combing over every detail to ensure nothing is missed. With only a few days left, there’s no time for a mistake.
Satisfied everything is coming together, we part ways and I search out Grant to confirm the details on the grounds crew. I should’ve known that was on his to-do list, but since I’ve been studiously avoiding him all week, I missed that tidbit.
When I get to his office, the door is open but he’s nowhere to be found. The view of the stadium from his windows calls to me. Stepping closer, I see the grounds crew working. One guy is driving the mower back to the fence where he’ll put it away. Another is carrying rakes off the field to store. The rest are rolling out the tarp to cover the infield.
That’s when I see him. His bronze-colored hair is tucked under a backward baseball hat, but I’d know his body anywhere, even from all the way up here. I recognize the way his shoulders flex under the T-shirt when he pushes against the tarp to unrollit with the crew and the way he rolls his neck when he stands back up fully. I also recognize the want pooling deep in my belly, but I choose to ignore that for right now.
What is he doing down there?
I watch as he laughs with the guys when they’re finished. He pulls the bottom of his shirt up to wipe the sweat off his brow and my knees go weak at the flash of skin and the bright smile on his face.
He waves to them, and instead of leaving the field, he waits for them to leave before he moves to the mound. I wonder if he’s missing it, wishing he could’ve played a few more seasons or if owning this team is enough.
I don’t know what possesses me to do it, but I turn on my heel and walk out of his office. I’ve gotten my answer on the field preparations, but when he still doesn’t leave, I find myself heading to the field.
“What are you doing down here?” I ask, walking up to the dugout where Grant is standing inside, leaning on the railing overlooking the field. Wearing a short sleeve shirt, gym shorts, and sneakers, he looks every bit the pitcher I once knew. “Reliving your glory days?”
He rolls his eyes, but offers me a smirk. “What are you doing down here?”
“Saw you working with the grounds crew. Do you do that often?”
He shrugs. “Not usually.”
“I went by your office to check on the progress with the field prep when I saw you working from the window.”
He looks over at me when I step up beside him. His arm brushes mine and it feels like an electric shock. These lingering touches have given me life the past couple weeks. A hand on my back as he moves around me in the kitchen. A brush of the hand as I walk by in the hallway at work. The edge of his thigh against mine as we sit on the couch and watch a movie.
It’s part of why I’ve been keeping my distance. I tend to run from feelings, and I want Grant more than my next breath.
“You can check that off the list then.” His shoulders are tense, and his clipped responses irk me.
Trying again, I say, “I think Monday will be a massive success for the Troubadours organization and a big step in the right direction for Chase’s image rehabilitation.”
“I’m sure it will. The buzz this has created and the positive spin are good for the team.” The sun has fallen behind the office building, and it casts Grant in a shadow. An ominous feeling settles in my gut.
“I went over the final touches on the checklist with Mary earlier. We’re all set. Vendors will start setting up tomorrow and Sunday.”
“Sounds good.”
I expel a frustrated breath and throw my hands out to my sides. “What is your problem?”
He answers my question with a question. “Why did you come down here?”
Because you looked really fucking hot standing on the pitcher’s mound and I couldn’t stop myself from a close-up view.
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve been avoiding me all week.”
“No, I haven’t. I’ve been busy working to make sure everything is finalized for the event.”
“Cut the shit, Taylor.”
“Why are you in such a mood?”
“Probably because we spent all weekend together, Monday rolled around and you ghosted me. Then here comes Friday and you’re searching me out looking likethat.” He turns, looming over me. “And as much as I want to, I can’t touch. I’m pissed because that stunt in the bathtub did nothing to ease the ache I feel for you. How much I want to shove my cock inside your tight little cunt until you forget all the reasons you’re spinningup in your head about why we can’t work and you finally give in to your feelings for me.”
The fire in his eyes heats me from the inside out. My pulse quickens and I’m immediately wet by the imagery. The prospect of him fucking me right here, right now where anyone could see has me primed and ready.
