by Leslie North
1
“You might own a baseball team, but do you even know how to throw a baseball?”
Blake Harrison grinned, tossing the baseball in his left hand while his two best friends looked smugly across the baseball field. Grayson had delivered the friendly ribbing, but Daniel could have just as easily said it. Mockery was an essential element of their friendship, though it was always meant in good fun.
“Throwing a baseball is irrelevant,” Blake countered, “when you own all of what you see around us.”
Daniel snorted. “Yes, yes, Mr. Owns A Baseball Team. We know. Now throw the ball.”
Blake narrowed his eyes at his best buddies. It had been a long time since the three of them had come to one of his practice fields together. Owning their own highly successful businesses meant that it was hard to find time to meet up consistently, but it was harder than ever now to snag their coveted bro time since Grayson had gotten married and become a new father.
With Daniel’s own marriage on the horizon, Blake knew it was only a matter of time before he was the lone inhabitant in the Singles Club he and his best friends used to rule. Which meant he had to not only get comfortable being the last bachelor standing…but also, he needed to get ready. Prepare himself. Because his best friends had a weird twinkle in their eyes recently, and Blake knew they were only amping up to start convincing him to join them in so-called wedded bliss.
And if there was one thing Blake didn’t plan on doing in this lifetime, it was to marry himself off.
He hauled back and threw the ball as hard as he could muster. Grayson caught it easily in his outstretched glove.
“Damn. You think someone with all these baseball teams could afford to work with a physical trainer,” Grayson said, the shit-eating grin on his face in full view.
“I can afford a thousand personal trainers,” Blake said, watching as Grayson lobbed the ball to Daniel. “But I can’t afford the time. Besides, my lady friends don’t care about my throwing arm—they’re more interested in other parts of me.”
Grayson and Daniel laughed. Blake grinned as Daniel threw the ball his way. It landed in his mitt with a hard thhwump.
“Can’t be that impressive—it’s not like any of them stick around past one or two nights,” Grayson said.
Blake scoffed. “You know damn well that any one of them would be happy for more—it’s my choice to keep things loose. And who can blame me? I own a baseball team, a record label, and my nightclub is opening next month. Why bother starting anything with someone when I don’t have the time or attention span?”
“I think it’s more the attention span that’s lacking,” Daniel cracked. Blake smirked as he caught the baseball his friend tossed his way.
“You’re one to talk,” Blake shot back. “Or did we not just bet that you couldn’t hack a relationship the length of Grayson’s wedding?”
“Yeah, well, turns out, an attention span can grow.” Daniel sent Blake a smug smile. “If you want it to.”
Grayson looked like he was enjoying this way too much. “Daniel’s right. I think he and I are both proof of that.”
“Well, I’m glad for both of you. I truly am.” Blake swiped at the longish brown hair hanging past his brow. He’d needed a cut for weeks but still hadn’t found the time. “But when it comes to women, my attention span is incapable of expanding.”
Daniel snorted, catching the ball from Grayson. “Yeah. right.”
“I bet you it’s not,” Grayson said, a familiar tone in his voice. The one that could set Blake on edge and push them all into competitive mode in no time. But then, with the three of them, it never took much. Just those magic words… “I bet.”
Blake held up his mitt to receive the ball Blake sent his way. “Come on. Not again.” But he knew it was coming. With Grayson, the bets were always coming.
“I bet you can’t go on a date five times in a row with the same person,” Grayson said. Blake sent the baseball back his way extra hard. The thwack echoed through the field.
“Five times?” Blake asked, trying to sound bored. Because it was boring. Seeing the same woman more than twice just wasn’t something that interested him. Blake liked to keep things fresh and exciting. New places, new experiences, new gadgets, new lovers. Committed relationships were fine for people who wanted them—but he didn’t. Never had. Never would.
“Yep. You heard me,” Grayson confirmed, looking as pleased as ever.
“And what’s in it for me?” Blake asked. He wasn’t one to turn down a bet, but he couldn’t think of anything Grayson could give him that would make this one worthwhile.
Daniel grinned suddenly, and Blake swore he could see the mischief collecting in his gaze. “I know what the prize will be.”
Grayson began to look equally as mischievous. “Oh, damn, Daniel, are you about to do what I think you are?”
“It’s something you could only dream of,” Daniel said.
Now the curiosity was killing him. “What? Just spill it, Grayson.”
Daniel caught the ball from Grayson before he explained. “If you can successfully take out the same woman on five dates without her being in on the bet…then I’ll make sure DJ Fiesta is personally present at the nightclub opening.”
The offer hit Blake like a sack of bricks. His mouth parted, and he could only stare at his friend while the offer circulated through him.
So there was one thing Daniel could offer him that he wanted.
And this was it.
Not only was DJ Fiesta the hottest rising DJ of the past year…he was Blake’s personal favorite. His music crush, for sure. And somehow, this jerk also known as his best friend was using that to weasel Blake into the stupidest bet of all time.
“How do you have access to DJ Fiesta—” His words cut off when a loud crack shuddered through his head. His jaw dropped from the shock of the baseball meeting the side of his face. The first thing that registered was heat, and then there was shooting pain. All he could do was stare at Daniel, who was coming toward him with a concerned look on his face.
“Buddy, are you okay?”
“What was that for?” Blake touched the side of his cheek. Hot and probably bruised. But the pounding in his ear was starting to recede, at least.
“I thought you were still going with us! You looked at me—I thought that meant I should throw.”
Both Grayson and Daniel crowded around him, brows knit together as they inspected his head. Blake touched the hot part of his face, but Grayson grimaced, drawing his hand away.
“Wait. Your face might be busted.”
“Busted?” Blake repeated.
“Let’s get you to a trainer,” Grayson urged.
“Am I bleeding?” Blake asked.
His best friends shared a worried glance. “Not bleeding, per se,” Daniel began.
“Actually, yes, you’re bleeding. Come on. In we go.” Grayson steered Blake away by the shoulders, pushing him off the field and down into the dugout.
“Guys, come on. I feel fine,” Blake protested, not wanting to show up to the trainer’s area with an injury. It just seemed like one of the more humiliating things that the owner of a baseball team could do. “I’m not blacking out. There are no sparkles at the edges of my vision.”
“Sparkles?” Daniel asked.
“You know what I mean,” Blake said, and then paused, searching for the word. “Like…”
“Pinpricks?” Grayson offered.
“Right.” Blake frowned as they headed for the big, modern gym lining the edge of the practice field. “Maybe I do have a concussion.”
“That’s for the trainers to figure out,” Daniel said. “Which is who we will be seeing. Immediately.”
Blake grunted, allowing his friends to steer him down the gravel path leading to the gym. The heat and pain had segued into something dull and far-reaching. Like his entire body had been steamrolled. Being injured was exhausting.
“You really throw hard,” Blake said, glancing at Dani
el. “Maybe you should ditch the new consulting gig and start thinking about the major leagues.”
Daniel laughed. “Yet another way to ensure that my father actually has a heart attack from my life choices.”
“As if you quitting the family business wasn’t traumatizing enough for him,” Grayson quipped as he pulled open the metal door of the gym. A cool draft of bleach-tinged air reached Blake, clearing his senses slightly.
The gym was thankfully empty, which meant fewer witnesses to Blake’s embarrassing injury. A trainer breezed over to them, a willowy woman that Blake didn’t remember seeing before, much less hiring. Not that he had much hands-on contact with staffing the lower rungs of his businesses. But still. He’d been into the gym before. He visited the training fields. And he’d never seen her before.
“Can you check out Mr. Boss Man?” Daniel asked, jerking his head toward Blake. “He caught a fly ball to the face.”
The blue-eyed beauty had her hair pulled back into a low ponytail. She wore a simple team T-shirt and mesh shorts, the standard workout gear of the trainers, but somehow, on her, it looked far more attractive than usual. Maybe it was the way her curves filled out the uniform, or the way her lips quirked up into a smile as her gaze washed over him.
Whatever it was, Blake was into it. And he could barely remember where he’d placed his voice.
“I wouldn’t have caught a fly ball to the head if you hadn’t dropped a bomb on me right before you threw it,” Blake protested finally, sending a glare to Daniel.
“Details, details,” Daniel said, waving the accusation away.
“Well, luckily, it doesn’t look too serious,” the brunette bombshell said, propping a hand on her hip. Her eyes narrowed as she leaned toward him, checking out the side of his face. Blake felt his cheeks heating up, but he wasn’t sure if it was from the injury or her sizzling cerulean gaze.
“So he’s gonna live?” Grayson asked, clapping a hand on Blake’s shoulder.
“He should, as long as he stays away from more fly balls and whatever sort of bombs you two like to drop,” the trainer teased, her gaze lingering on Blake. “I need to go grab some stuff from the first aid closet. I’ll be right back to fix you up.”
“What’s your name?” Daniel asked.
“Michelle,” she said, smiling at Daniel before swinging her gaze back to Blake. “And I would ask for your names, except I already know.”
“Oh. Do our reputations precede us?” Grayson asked.
“Indeed.” She grinned over her shoulder as she walked off. “I’ll be right back.”
The three friends watched her walk away into the first aid closet. Once the door clanged shut behind her, Daniel turned to Blake with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
“I think we’ve determined who you should be taking out on the dates for the bet.”
Blake propped his hands on his hips, looking between both his best friends as the same smirk crossed both their faces. “Oh, come on. She works for me!”
“But she doesn’t report to you,” Grayson said. “And she’s willing to tease you, so it doesn’t look like she’s intimidated by you.”
Blake rolled his eyes. “Why her? Out of literally everyone else you could have picked?”
“Because this is what the courts have chosen,” Grayson said, crossing his arms over his chest. “A bet’s a bet. Unless you’d rather some other second-string DJ attend your nightclub opening…”
Blake exhaled forcefully. “I hate you guys.”
Daniel’s grin widened. “We know that’s code for ‘love.’”
Blake groaned. “Fine. I’ll do it. But you know what?” He jabbed a finger toward Daniel. “I need to see some proof that DJ Fiesta is coming. Immediately.”
“Consider it done. You want me to have him give you a call? Leave a personalized voicemail?”
“Oh, like one of those celebrity greetings,” Grayson said, “where Susan Sarandon calls and says happy birthday.”
Daniel snorted. “Susan Sarandon?”
“Well, whoever you consider a celebrity,” Grayson clarified.
“I don’t care what you do. I just need proof. And let it be known, this is the stupidest thing you two have ever had anyone do in the name of winning a bet,” Blake went on, looking at Grayson. “Even stupider than when you bet Daniel that he and Jackie couldn’t last as a couple to the end of your wedding events.”
“I didn’t bet that,” Grayson said. “You and I bet that.”
“But this is stupider because she could be married for all we know. And then what?”
“I didn’t see a ring,” Daniel said.
“Me neither,” Grayson confirmed.
Blake sighed, rubbing at his face just as Michelle breezed out of first aid closet. Her brilliant blue eyes snagged him again as she walked toward them.
He could at least credit his friends with picking one of the hottest women he’d seen in recent history. And this was in her work clothes.
Still, the absurdity of this impromptu bet gnawed at him. But DJ Fiesta…
“Hey, Michelle, while you’re patching up our friend, we just wondered if you come across many other bachelor business owners who get knocked in the head during a regular day?”
Blake steeled his jaw as he sent daggers to Daniel. These guys were worse than brothers sometimes with the ways they teased and mocked him. It was one thing when they were alone, but did they have to do it in front of other people? Michelle laughed, lilting and breezy. It took the edge off his irritation.
“Not too many. Most of the guys I tend to are top athletes with shin splints and stress fractures.”
“Interesting,” Grayson said, crossing his arms as Michelle began cleaning the wound on Blake’s face. Blake stared so hard at his friend that it could have created a burn mark. It was mostly to telepathically transmit the words SHUT UP to him.
“Interesting,” Blake said, “and exactly what she was hired to do.”
Michelle laughed, stepping closer as she dabbed at his wound with a cotton swab. “Sure. But I mean, taking care of injured baseball team owners falls under the same umbrella.”
“You know, it’s funny,” Grayson barreled on, looking at Blake with a glint in his eye that told him exactly what level of mischief to expect, “Blake, Daniel and I were just talking out there on the field about how Blake needs a proper tour of his own training facilities. Would you be able to provide that for him?”
Blake bit back a scowl. Instead, he offered up a smile when Michelle glanced at him.
“Seriously?” she asked.
“He’s serious,” Blake confirmed, wishing he could punch Grayson in the chest. Over Grayson’s shoulder, Daniel was smiling into a closed fist. They could both go to hell. But they’d lobbed this ball, and now he had to run with it. “I’ve been meaning to do it and haven’t had a chance to put it on my schedule.”
“Why, have you got too much else going on?” Michelle asked with a wink. There was something disarming about her smile, the casual rapport she’d established with him already. She wasn’t shy around him, but she didn’t fawn over him either. That was a rare find for him—almost like a present, wrapped in a very attractive package. He paused, his words evaporating on his tongue as he got lost in the pretty planes of her face.
“Something like that,” he finally said.
“He’s opening a new nightclub,” Daniel offered.
“Ah. Yeah, I’d imagine that would take up some time,” Michelle said, right before applying the butterfly Band-Aid over his cheek.
“You know, Blake, with how busy your schedule is going to get over the next few weeks,” Grayson said, clapping him on the shoulder, “you and Michelle should get that tour in ASAP.” To Michelle, he said, “What about tomorrow? Does that work for you?”
Blake rolled his neck in a slow circle. Goddamn these best friends of his. He reminded himself that they meant well…even when they were crazy about it and forced him into bets he didn’t want to undertake.
> But he was just the same as them. Blake couldn’t back down from a bet.
And while he watched the slow curves of a bombshell smile take over Michelle’s face, he realized this bet might not be all bad.
2
Michelle checked and rechecked her phone.
First of all, she couldn’t believe that she now had BLAKE HARRISON—SEAGULLS OWNER in her phone as a real contact. And second of all, she couldn’t believe that she was going to be meeting him in less than ten minutes.
The man was a legend—that much was obvious. The twenty-something famous for turning around the flagging and forgotten Major League Baseball team. The businessman genius who owned both a record label and a baseball team and somehow made millions in the stock market each time he sneezed.
She’d been working for the Seagulls Major League Baseball team for just over six months and still hadn’t met the man until yesterday. But staying out of his orbit that long didn’t mean that nobody had anything to say about Blake Harrison.
No, everyone loved to talk about Blake Harrison. For a lot of people at her job, he was a constant source of speculation and rumors, as if he was a movie star or something. And that her coworkers would feel that degree of awe and curiosity was saying something, being that the bulk of her colleagues consisted of Major League Baseball players. Rumors and speculation were the name of the game at this level of professional sports. Sure, the majority of the athletes stuck to their job—the game—and left, but what happened off the field did not stay there.
Sometimes, Michelle felt like the lone sane woman floating in a sea of testosterone and childish drama. And really, it had always been that way. That’s what made her great at her job. In a profession that seemed destined to be filled with macho, blustering jocks, she was a necessary balance that had proven itself time and time again. What does a room full of hotheads and egotistical jocks need? A motherly figure to tell them to shut the hell up.