I shove him off with a laugh. “You guys are seeing things. Should I be scheduling some eye exams?” I ask, my eyes dartingbetween them, before I focus them on Noah. “It could explain why your pitches were all over the place.”
“Whoa!” Noah lifts his hands. “My pitches were perfect. Hell, I was on fire. Not that you’d even know, because I’m pretty sure the only one who had your attention today was a certain social media manager.”
“Okay fine, maybe you weren’t that bad,” I give in. “But that’s all I’m going to admit to.”
“I think thou doth protesteth a little too much.” Easten nudges me in the shoulder.
“Protesteth?” I scoff. “What does that even mean?”
It doesn’t matter that I know exactly what he means. And fuck, he may be right, but I’m willing to do just about anything to protect Hollis and keep any and all heat off of her. If she wants this to stay a secret, I’ll do my damndest to make it happen.
“Yes. Protesteth,” he repeats, clearly enjoying the theatrics. “And come on, bro. We’ve got eyes. You don’t think we haven’t noticed how chummy the two of you are lately? What I don’t get is why you aren’t out here bragging about how you’ve finally managed to land your dream girl.”
I roll my eyes, attempting to play it cool despite the new wave of panic working its way through. “She’s not some prize I’m trying to win. She’s a person. And who’s to say I haven’t changed my mind, or that I’m fine with us just being friends?”
Easten and Noah exchange knowing glances before exploding into a fit of loud, obnoxious laughter.
“When has Mason Fletcher ever been okay with being told no? Did you suddenly forget how well we know you?” Easten asks, doubling over as he holds his stomach.
“Yeah,” Noah cuts in with a large grin. “You might be able to pull that line with everyone else, but trying to convinceusthat you’re not head over heels for her? Good luck with that, buddy.”
I roll my neck and attempt to loosen the building tension. “Guys, come on. We’re just friends. I’m serious,” I say, and this time, it’s mostly the truth. “Would I prefer something more? Hell yeah I would, but that’s not something Hollis wants, so for now, this is what I get, and I just have to be okay with that.”
The guys look at each other again, before bobbing their heads in solemn nods. “Alright, If you say so,” Noah finally gives in before waving as he heads straight for the showers.
Easten stops us from walking. “Between us.” He wraps an arm around my shoulder, leaning in close. “I stand by what I said. I know there’s something going on between you two, but if you need to keep it quiet, which I’m guessing is what’s going on here, I’ve got your back. No worries.” He gives my shoulder a couple of pats before also heading toward the showers.
I suppose if anyone was going to catch me in a lie, it would be Easten, not that I’m surprised. It’s also no surprise that he’d have my back and keep things on the down low. Like all of the guys on this team, they’re not just my teammates or guys I play baseball with. They’re family. Hell, they’re my brothers.
I linger in the shower as the hot water works its way over my knots. Which, honestly, is probably suspicious enough, given that I’m usually the first one out, ready to stuff my face, meet up with Hollis, or depending on how hard I went at practice, possibly just crash out for the evening. Tonight is different, though.
Tonight I’ve got a date, or well, whatever you call a dinner out with the girl you’re keeping a secret, despite everyone already knowing that something is definitely going on. So yeah, maybe we haven’t exactly been as subtle as we thought. But nothing, and I mean nothing, is going to stop me from showing up at Hollis’s office the second this place clears out.
The plan for now is dinner first, but I wouldn’t be opposed if we lingered in her office for a bit. It’s not like we haven’t already fooled around in there. Who knows? Maybe I could convince her to let me bend her over that desk of hers.
Thankfully, Mateo, the last one besides me, heads out. The second the door swings shut I’m rushing after him. It’s strange being here alone this late. Usually the clubhouse feels way too small, but right now? It feels uncharacteristically big and way too quiet. Can’t say I’m a fan.
I sling my bag over my shoulder and start down the eerily empty hallway. Guess the plan worked and we really are the last ones here. The only sound seems to be the gentle tap of my shoes against the floor. That is, until my phone rings from inside my pocket, the sound slicing through the silence as I instinctively react, jumping a couple of feet into the air.
“Fuck,” I curse as I place a hand over my racing heart. I blow out a breath and pull out my still-ringing phone.
Mitchell Reed’s name flashes across the screen.
My brows furrow. Mitch is my agent, and the one who helped me land my spot on the Honky Tonks. I’ll forever be grateful for all he’s done for me, but I can’t exactly picture why he’s calling so late. He usually only reaches out when something’s up.
These days, whenever we need to chat or I’m being offered any sort of sponsorship deals he’ll email first, so this definitely feels a bit odd.
I swipe green and raise the phone to my ear.
“Mitch?”
“Fletcher. The man, the myth, the legend. What’s going on, my guy?” Mitch’s loud voice booms through the speaker as I’m hit with his usual excitable, trademark energy.
I stop and lean my back against the cool cinderblock wall. “I’m good,” I say, the words coming out like a question. “And given your tone, I’m assuming things must be going good for you, too.”
“Amazing actually, and that goes for both of us.”
“Yeah...” I drag out, still thrown and more than eager to find out what the hell is going on here. “I’d say so. Things with the Honky Tonks are really starting to take off.”
