Betting On The Rookie. Stephanie Doyle
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table in front of him and stretched out on the couch. He had another hour before he needed to be at the ballpark, and he planned on relaxing until then.
As the old man on the team at twenty-nine, he figured he needed to give his body every chance to rest he could. Spending some time listening to agents give him their pitch wasn’t physically taxing, but it was starting to become mentally challenging.
He simply hadn’t connected with Don the way he wanted to. There was something too slick about the guy that didn’t rub right. At least on the phone. The truth was, he hadn’t liked any of the men he’d met either in person or over the phone. All of them had talked to him like he was a sucker at a used car lot buying a car for the first time.
Telling him how much he didn’t know about the business side of baseball. Throwing numbers around like they meant nothing. None of them really cared what he wanted for his future career.
As Evan had made his way through small ball and minor ball, he’d come to understand that his particular athletic talent to hit a baseball was unique. Ultimately he’d started thinking about his future and what making it to the majors might mean. He’d always thought when that time came, Samantha Baker would be his agent.
He knew her reputation. He’d liked the idea of being with a boutique agency where he wouldn’t be one in a crowd. Plus, he knew her personally. It was crazy, but despite the brief time they’d spent together nearly two years ago, he’d felt a connection to her. A sense that if she took him on as a client, she would always have his back.
That was, until he’d watched her stand up in front of crowd of journalists and call Richard Stanson a victim.
A victim!
Yes, Evan had wanted someone who would have his back. But he wanted that person to also have a modicum of integrity. Sam Baker, despite what he thought he knew about her, apparently didn’t.
His phone rang again, and Evan considered letting it go to voice mail. Then he heard his father’s dire warning in his ear about needing to get this done, so he picked it up again assuming it would be Donald wanting to schedule a sit-down.
“Are you an idiot?”
It took him a second to register the female voice on the other end of the phone.
“Scout.” Evan smiled. “How the hell are you doing?”
Scout was the woman he owed everything to, and he’d made it a point to stay in touch. Out of both gratitude and having a serious baseball person in his life to guide him through the ropes of small ball. No doubt she was calling to talk about the irony of him being traded to the Rebels.
“I’m great, but you’re an idiot.”
“You know I didn’t have a choice to come here. It’s not like I could ask for a no-trade clause as part of a minor league contract. I have to go with the team who wants me, but I agree it’s a little crazy that I’m back here with the Rebels.”
“I’m not talking about that! I’m talking about the fact you had a chance to sign with Samantha, and you didn’t. Are you a fool? Don’t you want to make money as a professional athlete, or are you one of those purists who only plays for the love of the game?”
Evan was no purist, but what the hell was he supposed to tell Scout? That he didn’t want to sign with her sister because she lacked character? That she was the kind of woman who would look the other way when confronted with domestic abuse, something that was intolerable to him?
“She didn’t know,” Scout said, reading his mind. “That’s what you’re thinking, and that’s why you walked away. But you know me, and you know I would never lie about something like this. Samantha would never have supported a creep like that if she knew he’d been abusive to women. You have to trust me on this.”
“Scout, you know I want to believe you, but that video...”
“She didn’t know about the video. Saw it the first time when the rest of America did. Richard paid a large sum of money to make it disappear, and no one, not even the police or the NFL, had seen it. Certainly not Sam. Look, you know what kind of people I am. Surely you’ve heard stories about Duff Baker and the type of man he was. Do you honestly think Sam could be so different from us?”
No. He hadn’t thought it possible. Until the evidence was there in front of his face. Only now Scout was telling him a different story. Maybe he shouldn’t have been so quick to judge. Maybe he at least owed it to Sam to hear her side of the story.
“Okay, I’ll talk to her.”
“Good. Oh, and do me a favor. Do not mention that we had this conversation. Got it?”
Not really, but he wasn’t going to argue with Scout. He owed her too much. “Got it.”
* * *
EVAN KNOCKED ON the door of the Baker home and thought about the last time he’d been here. He’d come knowing he’d cost Scout her job, but instead it had been Sam who’d opened the door. Sam, who’d been sporting a considerable black eye at the time. He remembered the way his gut had tightened at the thought of someone hitting her. Hurting her. He’d had an almost crazy urge to find who did it and hurt him back.
Then she’d told him it had happened as a result of squabbling sisters, and suddenly the idea of cool and pretty Samantha getting into a brawl with her sister made her a little more human.
Unexpectedly Evan wondered if she would even bother to open the door to him. If she was innocent, then he’d been kind of a jerk. He was about to turn and leave when he heard the steady drum of sneakers hitting the sidewalk coming to a stop, and he knew he didn’t have to worry about her shutting him out.
Sam Baker looked like a hot, sweaty mess. A damp T-shirt over a sports bra, skintight running shorts and legs that were tan and toned, covered in a sheen of sweat. Her hair was pulled back into a short stubby ponytail.
Nothing icy about her now.
Like every time he laid eyes on her, regardless of how she looked, he felt it deep in his gut.
Evan shifted his feet and wondered again if coming here was a bad idea for an entirely different reason. He wasn’t sure it was a good thing to be thinking about licking the sweat off his potential agent’s neck.
One thing he knew, he’d caught her off guard. He could see that in the way she had brought herself to a sudden stop with her hands crossed over her chest even as she tried to regulate her breathing. Why he liked that, he wasn’t sure. Maybe catching her off guard was the only way to get the upper hand with Samantha Baker.
“Hi,” he said. The lamest opening ever, but he had to start somewhere.
“What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to talk.”
“I wanted to talk the other day, and you told me to get lost.”
That pretty much summed it up. “I think maybe I was wrong. I was judging you based on something I saw on television, and I realized that’s not fair. I would like an opportunity to hear your side and decide for myself what kind of person you are.”
Arms still crossed over her chest, she looked away and shrugged. “Why bother? Surely there are any number of agents who are aware of the trade that just happened and have been in contact with you.”
“I don’t like them,” Even said as honestly as he could. “They’re all trying to sell me something. That’s not what I want.”
“What do you want?”
“I want someone who I trust will fight for me. Someone who will have my back. Someone who will listen to what I want, rather than tell me what they think I should do. I’m looking for a partner.”
She looked at him and nodded. “Okay. Then, let’s talk.”
* * *
SAM WALKED UP the front steps of her porch silently