“Definitely not.”
He groans and steps back, adjusting himself obviously. “You in that dress is going to make it very tempting, though.”
I smooth down the skirt, pleased.
By the time I get to the field, he’s deeply immersed in practice. I record him giving feedback to a player, going through the hitting motions himself to show the slight tweak he wants to see on the angle of the bat. It’s not hard to see how that was once him, his body is still that of a big slugger.
I record a few different clips before he notices me and gives a wave.
Waving back, I slide my phone into my pocket.
One of the assistant coaches, a woman maybe a few years older than me, comes over. “Coach says you’re upping his social media game.”
“Yep. I’m Molly.”
“Christine. Nice to meet you.” She winks. “Feel free to include me in any of the b-roll, I could use the boost in profile.”
I laugh. “Understood.”
“Do you have any questions about what they’re doing?”
I ask her what the team will do next, because the morning routine is still a little confusing to me, and she’s generous with her answers.
“I find it all so interesting,” I say apologetically when Jeff comes over ten minutes later. “Sorry for stealing your…” I glance at Christine. “Infield coach?”
“That’s right! You’ve got it now.” She pats me on the arm. “But I do have to get back out there now.”
“Go.”
We both watch her jog over to the infielders who have gathered for their morning drills.
Then Jeff leans in casually, just enough so his voice is for my ears only.
“Saw you from the second you arrived,” he murmurs. “I like knowing you’re here, even if I can’t touch you. But Ireallywant to touch you.”
“Oh?” I’m blushing. I have to be. Oh myGod.
“I want to drag that skirt up those lush thighs of yours and spread you out on the grass so I can eat your perfect pussy in this chapelI call home.” He says casually, conversationally, and my heart pounds against my ribs, trying to get to him.
From the field, someone calls his name.
“Go,” I whisper. “I’ll get out of your hair.”
But I’ll be thinking about the way that he said that for the rest of the day.
As we get closer to game time, I try to focus on work, but I’m hyperaware of Jeff’s presence somewhere in the stadium, like he’s my magnetic north.
It’s just the rush of a new relationship, I tell myself.
I even google it,symptoms of a crushandhow long does the crazy feeling of falling in love last.
The internet does not have a consensus on how long I’ll have this wild feeling of tumbling headlong into joy.
And since a decent part of my job is making content about my secret husband, it’s not like I can throw myself into work to ignore it.
Not that I’m complaining.
He’s a beautiful hunk of a man. I’m stitching together clips from batting practice for a little video of its own when Sinclaire and Trick arrive in my office.
