Where he’ll carry me over the threshold once again.
To our secret hideaway. The one that finally has an address.
On 7 Daisy Lane.
SURPRISE CHAPTER
I can do this.
I’m a professional, after all.
All I have to do is get on that field and not punch my lying ex-boyfriend in his stupidly handsome face.
Because of course life couldn’t do me a solid and make the man who shattered my heart into a million pieces hideous with age.
Nope. The fucker apparently had to go on and continue to use that panty-dropping smile as a weapon and become a household name.
You’d think that after ten years, I wouldn’t be as affected as I am. But I guess I should have known that wouldn’t be true, giventhat he’s the reason I’ve refused to attend any MLB games for the last decade.
And it’s kinda hard being a baseball photographer who refuses to step foot on a baseball field.
But today is my first official day on the job.
I have to come to terms with the fact that I’m going to be working with my ex and flying with his team all around the country too.
Maybe I’ll use my flash to blind him when he gets within range or accidentally bring my camera lens out of focus when it’s time to take his shots.
I shake the petty thoughts away.
I’m working for the New York Monarchs. With my brother’s team and a whole crew of his friends that seemed to have welcomed me into the fold.
This is a very big deal and the best gig I could ever dream of.
So when it comes to Ace Middlebrooks, I’ll have to stick to using my imaginary voodoo doll when times get tough, I suppose.
I giggle as I make my way toward Luke’s office. I’m sure he wants to give me a “good luck” pep talk before I photograph my first game with the team. This place is massive, and I’m pretty sure I’ve taken a wrong turn once or twice, but I must be close to the clubhouse because I can hear the rowdy players the farther I walk down this narrow hallway.
I turn the corner and crash into a solid wall of muscle. I’m about to apologize when my eyes meet the ones my young and naïve heart once foolishly fell in love with.
“You,” I accuse.
“You,” he seethes right back.
I take a step to move around him. My brain cannot come up with a better comeback at the moment, and I’ll be damned ifI give this man the upper hand in wittiness. That title firmly belongs to me.
But when I move, so does he. And before I know it, he’s pulling us through a side door I didn’t see.
“Get your dirty paws off me. I’m not one of your groupies you can manhandle,” I say as he closes the door to what I assume is a utility closet.
“Relax. I took you by the hand, like a true gentleman.” He takes his baseball hat off and flips it backward.
My eyes narrow at the practiced movement. “Well, we’ll have to agree to disagree on the gentleman claim, but since I have no desire to be alone in a room—closet—with you, I’ll be going now. Shoo, pest.” I wave my hands in his direction, hoping he disperses like a cloud of smoke.
His jaw ticks as he shakes his head. “It’s the middle of the season. And this year, we’re making it to the World Series. Therefore, you and I are going to have to address our past so we can move on from it and work together. Peacefully.”
I chuckle darkly, offering him my fakest smile as I take a step toward him. “Do I look like the kind of woman who brings a man peace?” I bat my eyelashes.
His eyes quickly dart down my body and back up to my eyes. And I fucking hate that I felt every inch where his gaze lingered. “No, Valentina. You look like the kind of woman who could bring a man to his knees.” He takes a step closer as I grimace.
