I don’t know what makes this man tick. But I have six or seven months to find out. And he doesn’t know it yet, but whether he wants to or not, we’re going to be friends. Because I’m not spending the next half a year with someone I don’t like. And if he ends up a better person because of it, I’d say that will be money well spent. His money.

I follow him to the front of the restaurant. “How do you want to do this?” I ask.

He holds out his hand for me to take. “Hold my hand. Stay close.”

Murphy pulls us aside before we reach the outer door. “Maybe grab onto him like you’re scared of the press. Don’t smile and pose for the cameras like the other girls do. You’re not with him for the fame. You’re with him because you love him for who he is underneath all that.”

I find it hard to keep a straight face, as do Caden and Murphy, and we all end up cracking up.

Sawyer looks at each of us, one at a time. “You think the idea of someone falling in love with me is funny? Tons of girls love me.”

“You’re right, sweetie, they do,” Murphy says in a motherly tone.

“What? You think people only like me because I’m rich and famous?”

The three of us remain silent.

“You’re all full of shit,” he says, pouting. “Come on.”

Sawyer grabs my hand and we walk out of the restaurant ahead of Caden and Murphy, only to be blinded by hundreds of flashes.

“What’s her name?” someone shouts.

“Pick me instead!” another screams, while restaurant security has to hold her back.

“Over here!” multiple people say, trying to get us to look at them.

“Are you tonight’s girl?” a photographer asks. “Where did he get you, Sluts R Us?”

Sawyer stops in his tracks and I run into his back, holding onto him for dear life as I feel claustrophobic with all the people around. Murphy told me I should act scared, but there’s no need to act – I am scared.

He puts his arm around me and pulls me against him. He singles out the photographer who shouted and yells, “Apologize to her, you prick!”

The guy puts up his hands. “Sorry, Miss,” he says. “But really, what number is she? Twenty? Thirty? And that’s just this year.”

Sawyer shakes his head. Then he leans in close and fake-whispers in my ear, after which he holds my eyes with his seductive stare as cameras flash all around us. Finally, he belts out loudly enough for some reporters and fans to hear, “Ignore them, babe.”

This puts them into a frenzy. More questions are fired from every direction as Sawyer plows our way to the cab while onlookers try to touch us. A woman bursts through the crowd, tripping and falling at my feet. She claws at my leg as she’s pulled back by security.

Sawyer puts himself between the woman and me, then he holds the cab door open for me and climbs in afterward. When we’re safely inside, he wraps his arm protectively around me and gives me a tender kiss on the forehead before the cab pulls away.

“That was perfect!” he says, looking back at all the people still taking pictures of us as we’re driving down the street. “Rick can take that and shove it up his ass.”

He has no idea that I’m shaking. That the last sixty seconds were terrifying. That I’m thinking maybe no amount of money is worth doing what he wants me to do.

Chapter Thirteen

Sawyer

I stand up and shake out the top of my pants, piles of dirt falling onto the ground next to second base. I love sliding head-first. The sound of the ball hitting a glove a microsecond after I touch the base with my fingers is the best sound in the world.

“Eighteen,” I say to nobody in particular.

Sometimes I like to taunt them by shouting out how many bases I’ve stolen this season. But I say it mostly for myself.

I take my lead off second, stretching it to the limit as the pitcher keeps me in his sights.

Do it, I think. Throw the ball back here.

I love the game between the pitcher and me. It’s a battle of wills. Will he throw the ball? Will I get a big enough lead to make it to the next base?

But he doesn’t do it. Maybe because that was my third steal today and I’ve already broken his will.

Caden’s up at bat and I’m the winning run. A deadly combination for the other team.

He doesn’t disappoint and hits a line drive to right field allowing me to score and end the game.

Caden runs over and we bump chests. “You sure earned your name today, Speed Limit. Nice job.”

“It helps when you have hits like that, Kessler.”

I smile as I look down at my dirty uniform on my way back to the clubhouse. There are a few reporters standing outside the door. One holds up a tabloid with a picture of Aspen and me on it from the other night. It looks like someone snapped it just as I was yelling at the photographer after he made that petty remark about Aspen. I was holding her protectively. It’s exactly the kind of picture I was hoping for.

“Who’s the brunette?” a photographer asks.

“Is she the same one you were shopping with?” another asks, holding out a photo of Aspen and me walking down the street carrying bags.

Even better.

“She’s just a friend,” I tell them before I duck inside the clubhouse.

“What was that all about?” Conner asks. “And, was that the girl from the bar last week?”

I shrug.

“Oh, shit. It was. You called her?”

I shrug again.

“You fucking called a girl?” he asks. Then he turns to the rest of the team. “Guys, Mills has a goddamn girlfriend.”

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” I say defensively.

“You met her at a bar. She shot you down. You took her shopping and then out to dinner?” Conner says. “I’d say you’re a piece-of-shit liar, Speed Limit. You have a girlfriend.”

“Shut up, asshole,” I say, stripping off my uniform and heading to the showers with a huge smile on my face. “You don’t know shit.”

Conner has no idea how much I love him right now, because on my way to the shower, I pass Rick. And I’m one hundred percent sure, based on the look on his face, that he heard every damn word Conner said.

After my shower, I hear the guys making plans to go out. Cleveland is not exactly my favorite place to go, it’s nothing like L.A. or Miami, but there are a couple of good places we like to hit when we’re here.

Several of us end up at a club. It’s no secret that this is one of the hangouts of visiting teams. And there are plenty of beautiful women here to greet us.

Other than the night Aspen and I ‘met’ in the bar for show, this is the first time I’ve been out with the guys since starting our arrangement. In San Diego, I blamed jet lag for why I didn’t go out. I realize this puts me in a unique situation. And I’m fully prepared to take a lot of shit for not taking home a woman.

What I’m not fully prepared for is how easy it is not to want to do just that.

I shake my head as I look around at all the gorgeous women trying to drape themselves over a professional baseball player. Ordinarily, I’m the one who has to have the prettiest one. The sluttiest one. The one who’s a sure thing.

But tonight, I find myself shooing them away. There are cameras going off everywhere. Girls taking photos and video of us. Of them with us. And I do my damnedest not to get photographed in a compromising position. After everything I’ve been able to pull off this last week, I’m not about to fuck it up now. Despite how gorgeous they are and how much cleavage they show me.

I had no idea just how dedicated I could be to saving my career. If I could pat myself on the back, I would.

“Shit, Mills,” Spencer says, with one of said girls sitting in his lap. “Are you sick or something?”

I laugh and take a drink. “Or something.”

Caden, Brady and a few of the other married players decide to call it a night and I head back to the hotel with them. The married players don’t give me as much shit as the others, but they still look at me as if I’m a stranger.

“Nice job,” Brady says, giving me a fist bump.

“Yeah. I wasn’t sure you could pull it off,” Caden adds. “But this is just the first of many. You sure you’re up for it? There’s a lot of temptation.”

“There’s a lot at stake,” I tell them.

“That there is,” he says, heading down the hall to his room. “See you two tomorrow.”

“G’night.”

Before I’m through the door, my phone rings with a call from Bass.

“What’s up, Sebastian?”

“I told you to call me Bass.”

“I know, I’m just fucking with you, Briggs. What’s up?”

“Good game today,” he says.

“Yeah, it was. But I’m pretty sure that’s not why you’re calling. Did you want to make sure I didn’t bring a girl back to my hotel?”

He laughs. “No. If you do that, Aspen still gets all her money and she gets to walk away. So, please, by all means, bring a girl to your hotel.”

I snort through my nose knowing they’ve got me by the balls on that one.

“It’s not going to happen. This is my career we’re talking about.”

“And it’s Penny’s life,” he says. “I saw the tabloids and I heard her account of that night. It was scary for her. All those photographers and the things they said about her. You might be used to it, but this is new to Aspen. I’m counting on you to protect her.”

“If you saw the picture at the restaurant, you’d know that’s exactly what I was doing - protecting her.”

“I know. But it really shook her up and I’d be remiss if I didn’t tell you I’ll kick your ass if you let anything happen to her.”

I want to laugh at the threat, but I’m pretty sure he’s serious. And he’s training to be a firefighter, so I don’t doubt he could make good on it.