Betting On The Rookie. Stephanie Doyle
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Because he wasn’t out there on the internet talking about himself every day.
“It was probably just a coincidence. Don’t worry about it, Dad.”
“I’m not worried. You’ve got too good a head on your shoulders to get distracted by Kelly, of all people. You know, I never liked her.”
“Yes, Dad. I remember.”
“Okay, son...well... I’ll see you soon. You’ll call me the minute you get called up, and no matter where you’re playing I’ll be there.”
His dad, now retired, had spent the last year following Evan around the country to various different minor league ball clubs. Including all the way to Puerto Rico when Evan had played fall ball last year.
Evan had always encouraged his dad, a widower for over ten years now, to find a hobby other than his son. His father had never listened.
Now there was a very real chance before the season was over that his father would be watching Evan at his major league debut game. Evan felt goose bumps at the mere idea of it.
Stay cool. You’re not quite there yet.
“Love you, Dad.”
“Love you, too, son.”
The call ended, and Evan sat in the truck for a moment to appreciate this time and this moment. The stadium where he had tried out loomed in front of him. The bull situated over the entrance seemed like a fierce thing under the new summer sun. He’d made it to Triple A, one step away from The Show. The irony that he was back here where it all started wasn’t lost on him, either. Karma, it seemed, had a sense of humor.
Scout Baker, a New England Rebel scout at the time, had seen something in the swing of a high school baseball coach. Her belief in him had cost her her job. But her belief in him was what had told him he should continue trying. So he had.
Now he was one step away from fulfilling a dream of being a professional athlete. Something he thought he’d left behind after college.
Evan got out of the truck and grabbed his equipment bag from the cab in back. It was an off day, so the lot was barely filled. Probably mostly with just the support staff who ran the park and the general manager.
Maybe that’s why the ice-blue Mercedes caught his attention. Or more likely the woman leaning against it.
Sleek body, long heels, blond hair that just hit her chin. And even though he couldn’t see them from this distance, the prettiest blue eyes he’d ever seen.
He would have known her anywhere. He wondered if she might look at him and guess that she had starred in several of his fantasies over these past months. If it would somehow be written on his face that he had dreamt about taking her every way a man could have a woman.
“Samantha Baker,” he called.
He could see that startled her a little. They’d only shared a few casual conversations not quite two years ago. Maybe he should have forgotten her.
He hadn’t. Not even a little bit.
She straightened and came walking toward him. He could hear the distinctive click of her no-doubt very expensive heels hitting the pavement. A woman on a mission.
“Evan Tanner,” she said, holding her hand out. “It’s good to see you again.”
He nodded and then slowly took her hand. It was small in his, and he held it for a second too long.
“What brings you here?” he asked, even though he had a pretty good idea.
“You,” she said succinctly. “I took a chance you might want to come down to the stadium before your start tomorrow, so I’ve been camping out here.”
“That’s some serious dedication.”
She flashed a smile. “A long time ago I told you that if you moved through the ranks, I could offer my services. Here you are on the cusp of stardom with a contract that’s expiring. So here I am.”
“You said you could or could not offer your services. You claimed you were very exclusive,” Evan reminded her.
“I am,” she said, raising her chin. “I’ve done a pretty thorough background check on you. You’re the kind of client I’m looking for.”
It was a shame, Evan thought. A real shame that someone who looked like her could be so completely disgusting on the inside.
What made it worse was that even though he knew what she was, standing here in the hot summer sun of a baseball parking lot, she still looked so cool and sophisticated he wanted to take her on the hood of her fancy car. Pull her blouse out of her pants and push his hands through her hair. Kiss her, until her lips were red and swollen.
“Sorry, Samantha. I’m not sure what kind of client you’re looking for. But I know what I’m not. That’s someone who would ever hit a woman or cover up for someone who did. So, no, I don’t think I’m your type.”
He watched her body jerk at the verbal assault. Then he watched as she quickly hid behind a mask of indifference. As crazy as it was, it made him think that this was how she might react if he had physically hit her. Which made him feel less sanctimonious and more like an ass.
“Hey, listen, I’m sorry. It’s just...”
“No, I understand,” she said quickly. “You don’t believe I didn’t know about the cover-up. Most people don’t. The clients I take on will have to believe me. Just like I will have to believe in them. Sorry to have wasted your time.”
She turned and quickly walked away, and with each step Evan felt a twinge of regret. Maybe he should have at least asked to hear her side of things. Hell, he owed that much to her sister, Scout, if nothing else.
He was about to open his mouth and call out to her, when she turned around in an elegant move and started walking backward. A feat he admired in such high heels.
“Oh, and Mr. Tanner...good luck dealing with the Rebels. I understand Reuben is a remarkably fair man to work with and will assuredly want to compensate you accordingly.”
She smiled, and it was the smile of a wolf.
“Your loss.”
She gave him a jaunty salute and then did the pirouette thing again and was once more walking away.
His loss.
His loss, indeed.
“I’LL HAVE THE contracts drawn up, and you won’t regret it. We’re going to do amazing things together, Evan.”
Evan listened to the pitch of the agent on the phone and inwardly groaned. They were all the same. Speaking to him as if Evan had agreed to anything. It seemed to be a thing with agents. As if they could talk over until you simply cowed to their wishes.
Cowing wasn’t Evan’s style.
“I told you before, Donald, I’m not doing this over the phone. You want to sign me, you’re going to have to come out here and meet me. I’m not trying to play prima donna here. I just want to sit down across from you and get to know you a little. I would come to you, but I’m in the middle of the season, as you know.”
There was a soft sigh on the other end of the line. Clearly the man wasn’t happy, but Evan wasn’t budging. Signing with an agent was a big step in his career, and he wanted to make sure he made the right call. The only way to do that was to get a sense of the man face-to-face.
Or person. If he decided to go with a woman. So far, only one had made an offer, and he’d flat-out turned her down. What bothered him was that he’d been regretting that decision ever since. On many different levels.
“Let me see what I can do with my schedule. I’ll be in touch.”