The Trade

by Quinn, Meghan

  Huh . . . looks like the Rebels can be classy.

  “You know, I’m feeling a little out of place. Maybe this was a bad idea,” I say, tugging on my black knee-length dress. It’s a nice dress, but nothing like what all the other women are wearing.

  “Oh shush, you look great,” Dottie says, completely ignoring my nervousness. “Okay, are you ready for the list?”

  “Dottie, I’m not going to go up to anyone. Look at the women here.”

  Dottie glances up from her phone for a second and says, “They have nothing on you. Now stop trying to distract me.” Gripping me tightly, she whispers, “Okay, there are quite a few men who are single, but some of them aren’t worth our time.”

  “Our time?” I ask.

  “Yes, our time.”

  “And what would make them not worth our time?”

  Dottie rolls her eyes as if I’m supposed to know the secret to her question. “You need guys who have staying power within the Rebels. Guys with no-trade clauses in their contracts. I just started hanging out with you. I don’t need you finding a guy only for him to be traded shortly after.”

  “Oh . . . you’re right,” I say. “I don’t want to have to move away from Chicago. Hmm, maybe a baseball player isn’t a good idea.” And God, I love this woman. She doesn’t want me to move. She barely looked at the other women as if it’s a no-brainer that I look better than them. Jason’s not the only lucky one because of Dottie.

  “No, baseball players are a great idea. We just need to find the right one, that’s all.” She shows me her phone. “Now look. There’s Garrett Garner, right fielder. He’s pretty cute. And relief pitchers Tony Wellis and Jared Forkey.”

  I shake my head. “No one with a big beard.”

  “Okay . . . oh.” Dottie looks up at me and smiles. “Maddox Paige.”

  “No,” I say automatically. “No.” Shaking my head, I say, “No,” one more time.

  “Why not? He’s super hot. The way he commands the mound, the dark, sinister look he has when he peeks over his glove. He’s the face of the Rebels.”

  “And the dirtiest player out of all the guys. He pegs players intentionally and he’s the first one to get into a fight. He’s not who I could see myself dating at all.”

  “Yes, but did you see those pictures of him in the Body Issue? The forearms? The abs? I mean . . . if I wasn’t happily coupled with Jason, I might turn in my Bobbies jersey for one night with him.”

  “With who?” Jason asks, coming up next to us and looking at Dottie’s phone. We freeze, his eyes narrow and then he glances up at Dottie, a frown framing his mouth. “Are you talking about hooking my sister up with Maddox Paige?”

  Dottie tries to give him a charming smile but it comes off more nervous than anything. “I mean—”

  “Absolutely not.” Jason shakes his head. “Not only is the guy a douche,” he whispers, “but he’s a player.”

  “He’s also the Rebels number-one pitcher and went twenty-two and five last season.”

  Jason’s eyes shoot up to his hairline. “Why do you know his stats?”

  “Someone should, and maybe the person who’s going to catch him next season should learn them.”

  “I know them, I’m just wondering why you do.”

  Dottie absently waves her hand and turns back to me. “I think you should give him a shot. He’s over there by the bar, leering. I mean . . . he even makes leering look good.”

  “You’re not making me feel great right now,” Jason says, shrugging in his suit jacket.

  Dottie pats his chest. “You know you’re the only penis I want in my life. I’m just trying to help your sister.”

  I shake my head. “Maddox Paige is a giant no. He’s attractive, but his personality isn’t. No, thank you.”

  “You never know, he might be a softy underneath. One of those guys who’s damaged but with the right woman, he becomes totally and utterly obsessed and devotes his life to making her happy.”

  “I’m not that woman.”

  Resigning, Dottie says, “Fine. That leaves us with Timmy Hinklin and . . . oh God.” Dottie looks up from her phone, a giant smile on her face. “I can’t believe I didn’t think about him to begin with.”

  Uh oh.

  I haven’t known Dottie for very long, but what I do know about her is when she gets an idea in her head, one that she thinks is totally viable, she goes for it and doesn’t let up until it becomes something.

  She has that determined look in her eyes and it scares me.

  “You know, maybe I should just take off,” I say, starting to walk away, but Dottie snags my hand and holds me in place.

  “Oh no, you don’t. You are not going anywhere. Not when I have the perfect match for you.”

  Jason stares down at Dottie and then back at me. With an apologetic smile, he hands me my drink and says, “You might need this. I know that look in her eyes. You’re at Dottie’s mercy now.”

  “You know, I don’t want to make things weird for Jason. Dating one of his teammates doesn’t seem like a good idea.”

  Jason shrugs and says, “They would be lucky to talk to you.”

  “See?” Dottie says. “He’s fine with it.”

  The one time Jason isn’t going to freak out about something, honestly. Maybe if I set my drink down and don’t announce I’m leaving, instead bolt, maybe I could—

  “I see that look on your face. You’re looking to flee.” Dottie moves closer. “No way. You aren’t going anywhere until you talk to Cory Potter.”

  I snort, straight-up snort, expelling snot from my nose and everything. Chuckling, I bring my glass to my mouth and take a sip. After I wipe away said snot expulsion with a napkin. “Okay, Dottie.” I roll my eyes. “Yup, let me just go talk to Cory Potter and try to seduce him. Yeahhhhh, no biggie at all.”

  Mumbling to himself and staring out at the event, Jason says, “Cory Fucking Potter,” and then he smiles.

  Jesus, could his man-crush be any more obvious?

  “What’s wrong with Cory Potter?” Dottie asks, ignoring her gushing boyfriend.

  “Nothing. Nothing is wrong with him,” I answer, setting my drink down. “He’s perfection.”

  “Exactly. So go talk to him.”

  “Dottie, you can’t be serious.” Leaning in, I whisper, “He’s way out of my league.”

  “No, he’s not,” both Jason and Dottie say at the same time.

  Before they go on a tirade, I say, “You know I love you both and your support for me and wanting me to get out into the dating world again, but you’re delusional if you think Cory Potter would want to go out with me. Yes, he was super nice at the fundraiser, but that’s who he is, a nice guy. Trust me when I say, I know who’s in my wheelhouse of dating, and Cory Potter is not.”

  * * *

  “Are you really going to ignore me for the rest of the night?” I ask Dottie, who has her arms crossed and looking anywhere else but me.

  She doesn’t say anything.

  “It’s been twenty minutes.”

  Silence.

  “Fine, I’ll just leave.”

  “Leave, and I will make sure Jason is extremely annoying at your next meeting for The Lineup. You know he will do whatever I ask, especially when naked.”

  “Ugh, gross.” I lean back in my chair.

  Jason’s talking to some of the guys, Dottie and I are sitting at a high-top table in two bar-height chairs, and we’ve munched on quite a few appetizers by now that I’m starting to feel full, and yet, waiters keep walking by with brimming trays.

  “You know,” I say, looking around the room, “I don’t even think Cory is here, even if I wanted to say hi to him. Not that I would, but I think you can stop being mad because—”

  “He’s to the left of the bar talking to someone. I think a relief pitcher. I have no idea.”

  He’s here?

  A bundle of nerves releases in the pit of my stomach as I look toward the left of the bar but don’t see him.

 
; “No, he’s—” The man in a navy-blue suit turns slightly and I catch his profile. Oh Jesus, that’s Cory?

  I don’t remember him being so . . . distinguished in person.

  Tall frame that towers over most of the men in the room, broad shoulders that appear sculpted even through the layer of his suit, strong, long legs that extend to large feet. He must wear at least a size fourteen. His body commands the room, but his personality rests on the gentler side, not grabbing attention with alpha gestures and pompous outbursts.

  Thinking back to the fundraiser, I remember how hard it was to find the courage to talk to him. It took a lot of convincing and inner dialogue to get my feet moving, but once I introduced myself, I realized why everyone loves him so much—he’s incredibly sweet. One of the best baseball players in history, and he’s grounded. He doesn’t wear an air of arrogance along with his jersey, nor does he speak to you as if you’re beneath him.

  He’s real.

  “You’re staring,” Dottie points out with humor in her voice.

  I quickly look away and nibble on the inside of my cheek. “I just didn’t recognize him, that’s all.”

  “Come on.” Dottie leans across the table. “Just say hi. Jason said you met at the fundraiser, so he knows you. It would be rude if you didn’t say hi.”

  I don’t like being rude.

  No, I shake the idea out of my head. Under any other circumstance, I’d say hi because that would be the polite thing to do, especially after he donated a large check to The Lineup, but I don’t think I’d act normal under Dottie’s watchful eye.

  “I can’t. You’re making me nervous.”

  “Lame excuse.” Poking my hand, she says, “Weren’t you just saying the other day how you want to have fun? Experience your twenties?” I should really keep my mouth shut. “This is your chance. Cory is the perfect specimen to experience that with. We all know he’s not a relationship guy. Milly has said that many times. He’s not remotely interested in being serious with anyone, not until after he retires from baseball. He’s the perfect guy to have a fling with.”

  “But he’s a part of the group. It would be weird.”

  “No, it would be great. You both aren’t looking for anything serious, so it’s the perfect situation.”

  I glance at Cory again, watching how he laughs easily with the rest of the guys, how he casually lifts his beer to his lips, letting the taste of the liquid wet his tongue before he lowers the pint glass. He’s smooth in his motions, interested in the conversations he shares with others and from firsthand experience, I know he’s a good listener.

  In fact, it’s almost disappointing he doesn’t do relationships, because he is perfect boyfriend material.

  “I don’t know,” I say, feeling incredibly unsure of myself. Growing quiet, I say, “The confidence to talk to someone like him, in that capacity, isn’t really there.”

  “What are you talking about?” Dottie asks, her voice losing its edge. “You’re beautiful inside and out—”

  “And yet my husband still cheated on me,” I say, the nasty aftermath of Ansel’s infidelity surfacing once again.

  “That’s not on you,” Dottie says. “Because your husband was insecure with himself does not mean his cheating is your fault. His infidelity has nothing to do with you and everything to do with him.”

  It’s not the first time I’ve heard someone say that to me, and a part of me believes it to be true. Ansel had some issues that extended far beyond our marriage, issues I tried to help him with but he refused any sort of helping hand. There was nothing I could do to help him, I know that, but it still doesn’t negate the vows we took, the promises we made each other, the years we spent as partners in crime. I’d chosen to grow old with him, have a family with him, never have to worry about the dating world again. But that all changed. Slowly, but it changed.

  “I know, but it’s hard to bounce back from something like that.” I take her hand in mine and give it a squeeze. “I understand what you’re trying to do, and I really appreciate it, but the dating world hasn’t been kind to me. I’m not about to go flirt with Cory Potter with the kind of luck I’ve been having.”

  Finally letting up, Dottie nods. “I can understand that.” She glances over at him and then back at me. “For what it’s worth, I think you two would be really hot together.” It’s because he’s Cory Fucking Potter. He’s hot.

  I chuckle. “Thank you . . . I guess.”

  * * *

  I tap my fingers on the bar, waiting for my drink as Dottie and Jason talk up one of the backup catchers. I’ve met quite a few guys and their significant others. I’ve boasted about The Lineup and the many great things we’re doing, and they’ve all congratulated us on our success and our special brother-sister bond. Apparently, our bond is rare, which seems odd to me. Yes, Jason and I bicker, but I couldn’t imagine not leaning on him for mental support. He’s my confidant, one of my best friends, and my go-to guy when I’m feeling down. I know he’ll always cheer me up with his ridiculousness.

  I glance at the bartender who took my order. He’s talking to Maddox Paige who’s across the bar. His eyes shoot to me and narrow, darkening a shade when they fall to my breasts.

  Ugh . . . pig.

  Not only is he as discreet as Swiss cheese—is that a saying?—but he’s also commandeering my drink order by distracting the bartender.

  Screw it, I’m not that thirsty. I turn quickly and run into a thick chest, my hands flying out in front of me to lessen the impact.

  “Oh, pardon me,” I say quickly and take a step back. When I glance up, I see a kind pair of eyes staring down at me.

  Slowly, as recognition hits him, his smile tugs on the corner of his mouth. “Natalie, I didn’t know you were here.”

  Rich and sultry, his voice thrills me in all the right ways, making me wonder what it would sound like if we were both in the bedroom, naked, spread out against a fluffy comforter . . .

  Wow, Dottie really got into my head.

  Turning on a smile and swallowing my nerves, I say, “Hey Cory. Yeah, Jason and Dottie dragged me with them. I was just going to their place for some ice cream.”

  He looks me up and down. “You go to your brother’s apartment for ice cream looking like this?”

  A blush creeps up my cheek and for a second, I think Cory is flirting with me—just for a second—until the bartender whistles to grab my attention. “Miss, your drink.”

  “Oh.” I take it and thank him with a tip that he doesn’t deserve. When I turn back to Cory, I watch him signal to the bartender for another beer as he sets his empty glass down.

  Unsure what to say, I try to scoot by him but he asks, “What do you have in there? Sprite?”

  I laugh and say, “Close. Sprite and vodka.”

  “Really?”

  I nod. “Yeah, it’s one of many drinks I prefer when socializing.”

  “One of many? How many are there?”

  “A few. Depends on how I’m feeling. I wanted something simple tonight so I went with vodka and Sprite. If I was feeling a little more colorful, I would have asked for a dash of cranberry juice and a lime.”

  “So why aren’t you colorful tonight then?”

  Not wanting to get into the ins and outs of my personal life and the insufferable dating experiences of the last couple weeks, I say, “Oh you know, work stuff. My boss is a demon.”

  “Isn’t your boss Jason?” he asks, looking a little confused as he takes his drink from the bartender and tips him as well.

  “My point exactly, a demon.”

  He chuckles and gently places his hand on my back and points to a table. “Want to catch up?”

  Catch up?

  As if we’re old friends?

  As if we actually know each other but haven’t seen each other in months and therefore, we need to fill each other in on our personal lives?

  Umm . . . am I missing something?

  But from the press of his hand to my back and the way he’s lookin
g at me hopefully, I find myself making my way to the table with Cory at my side.

  I just hope Dottie doesn’t get any smart ideas.

  Chapter Six

  CORY

  I told myself I’d stay away.

  I told myself I wouldn’t talk to her unless she approached me.

  I told myself I wouldn’t even consider touching her.

  And yet, here I am, looking like a lovesick puppy, pawing at her feet, pushing her away from everyone so I can have a moment alone.

  Didn’t see her . . . what a fucking lie.

  The moment she walked into the room, I saw her. It was as if my eyes were magnets and she was the only metal in the room. I was drawn to her, and for good reason. She’s so goddamn gorgeous.

  Curvaceous body in a skin-tight black dress, heels that make her legs look longer than they are, legs I could envision wrapped around my waist, holding on tightly as I thrust harshly into her. Her shoulder-length hair has that ombré thing going on that all the girls are sporting now, but it isn’t dark and brassy like some of the hairdos I’ve seen. It’s a beautiful shade of caramel with the front pieces highlighting her face, making her blue eyes stand out even more than before.

  And then . . . that smile.

  Fuck. When she ran into me, recognized me, I caught a glimpse of it. It wasn’t extended fully like I saw at the fundraiser, but it was big enough to make my heart trip in my chest and for my pulse to jump-start.

  Before running into her, I spoke with a few guys about the upcoming season and their holidays, but the entire time I could feel where she was in the room, like our bodies were doing a blind tango, never touching, but close to it. Every time I looked over at her, to see her talking to Jason’s fiancée, I begged, pleaded for her to lift her head, for her to see me, but no such luck. She was buried in her conversation with Dottie. When I saw her go to the bar, I warned myself to stay put, I told myself not to move closer.

  She’s married.

  There’s nothing I can do.

  But as she tapped her foot, waiting for her drink, I felt myself down the rest of my beer and before I could stop, I was headed to the bar for a refill.