“Please tell me that Mason Fletcher isn’t about to quit just because of some minor inconvenience?”
“A minor inconvenience?” I shoot back. “She kicked me out of her apartment and said we were done. There’s nothing even remotely subtle about that.”
“Okay, so? That didn’t stop you before.”
“Yeah, but that was only because I could tell she was just as into me as I was into her. She wanted me, but didn’t think we could make it work. It’s not the same as it was then. I’m pretty sure she’s officially done with me this time.”
He doesn’t buy it, and maybe I don’t either.
“I can promise you this. Hollis is still very much into you. And okay, maybe she’s still worried about how to make things work, but that’s your specialty. Give her that good ol’ Fletcher charm you’re famous for. We’ve all seen you in action. If you want something, you make it happen. So fucking do it and make it happen.”
He’s right. I know he is. I’ve never once considered myself a quitter, nor do I want to be the kind of guy who lets the woman of his dreams walk right out of his life without a proper fight.
“Alright, everybody. T-minus two minutes,” Coach yells as the dugout erupts into loud chants and whoops.
For now, my plans for Hollis will have to wait until after the game. But as I step onto the field with my brothers and teammates, a new resolve settles in. Tonight I’m not just playing to win the game, I’m playing to win Hollis’s heart as well—for keeps this time.
Perhaps it’s the adrenaline fueling me forward, but I’m pretty sure I’ve never played better. I’ve landed every single trick play I’ve attempted and just crushed it by hitting a double that officially pushed the Honky Tonks into the lead.
Unsurprisingly, Hollis is still avoiding me. She’s constantly just out of view, spreading herself extra thin as she seems to be nowhere, yet everywhere at the exact same time. Well, everywhere but the Honky Tonk dugout.
Still, it’s not enough to dampen my mood. Even as we swap positions with the Rowdy Rattlers for their turn at bat, a huge grin spreads across my face as we take the field. Tonight, the game is only a small part of what I’m consumed by, because what happens after is what truly matters.
We’re playing a very real game of baseball which means who wins and who loses very much depends on how well each teamplays. But everything else, from the music to the dances and special fan interactions is carefully planned and choreographed ahead of time.
Each and every player is given a special moment to shine as they work with the staff to choose a walk-out song for their turn at bat, which means I can usually plan ahead and know what musical numbers are coming up and when.
Next up to bat should be Waylon Cartwright. I crouch, getting into position, and wait for ‘Boys ‘Round Here’by Blake Shelton to play as he casually saunters to the plate with his usual swagger. Instead, Rowdy Ray’s voice, our stadium’s announcer, cuts through the speakers.
“Tonight we have a special guest!”
What the hell?
It’s normal to have special guests, especially to throw pitches or take a turn at bat, but I’ve always known ahead of time. Have I been so stuck in my own misery that I somehow missed this big of an announcement?
“So ya’ll do me all a huge Texas-size favor, and give Hollis Clemmins, daughter of the great Jared Clemmins and our very own social media manager a hand!” he booms as the main lights in the stadium dim and the crowd erupts into wild cheers.
What. The. Fuck?
My head snaps from side to side, scanning my teammates’ faces. Not a single one looks as confused as I feel. They all look calm, collected, and almost smug, like they’re all in on this huge secret I’ve purposely been left out of.
And for once, I don’t care. I already know this is going to be the best surprise ever.
35
Hollis
My heart slams wildly against my chest, practically begging me to reconsider, but I ignore it. I’m done letting fear call the shots. Taking a deep, steadying breath, I lift my chin as the spotlight encircles me from where I’m standing just a few rows above the Rowdy Rattlers’ dugout.
I squint against the brightness and resist the urge to shield my eyes. Instead, I straighten my back and raise the microphone as the reality of this moment sinks in.
While it may look like it, this isn’t some spontaneous stunt I’m pulling with little to no thought. It’s the exact opposite. Thanks to my partners in crime, Candice and Logan, and most every single member of the Honky Tonk organization I worked tirelessly to create this one-of-a-kind moment.
He may be able to plan the ultimate date, but it’s me who’s planned the ultimate love confession. Every single detail and every move from here on out has been strategically designed to make it crystal clear to Fletch that I’m all in. I’m done running.
Harry, my cameraman, stands nearby as the image of me, wearing a Mason Fletcher Honky Tonk jersey, flashes on the jumbo screen. With a nod, “I Wanna Dance with Somebody”by Whitney Houston begins to play.
Not all my fears could be conquered in one night, as I wasn’t quite brave enough to actually sing live. I’ve settled for the next best thing, though, as I put my lip-syncing skills to work, mouthing the words as I shimmy my shoulders to the beat.
