Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 68697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
I give her a hug, then turn to Charlie. “I’ll hit you a homer, kid.”
He laughs. “Yeah, right.”
“You doubt me?”
“Um, yeah. Just a little bit,” he says, the way little brothers do. I jump up, ruffle his hair, and head to the steps to get ready for the game. “Just watch me.”
In the seventh inning, I make good on my promise to Charlie, going deep and sending two runners home. When I hit home plate, I turn toward the first-base line and blow a kiss to my family.
After the game, when a local sports reporter pulls me aside by the dugout and asks who the kiss was for, I answer, “Mom and my little bro. Love them to the ends of the earth and back.”
We finish her questions, and I leave the field. But I do a double take when I spot Finn Michaels. The sharp-dressed sports journalist rarely hits the field. He’s not a beat reporter. He’s basically . . . the most powerful reporter in sports. He knows about every trade, deal, and contract before it happens. He’s uncovered cheating scandals, steroid use, gambling rings, and probably who killed JFK. He’s revered and feared.
Decked out in tailored slacks and a crisp salmon shirt, the good-looking man makes his way to the Comets dugout, then disappears in it.
Interesting. I tuck the oddity away in my brain. I’ll have to ask Tanner what that’s about.
In the morning, I take my family out for breakfast, then we go full tourist and visit Central Park and The Met.
The latter was Mom’s idea. “I always wanted to study art,” she says as we wander past the Impressionists.
“Then you should take a class.”
She laughs. “Or maybe I’ll just get a book.”
I buy her one in the gift shop, then we take Charlie to Grand Central Terminal and put him on a train back to school.
That night, Mom comes to my game, and once more, we win.
“Sweep, sweep, sweep!” I chant in the locker room to Shane, Zane, and the rest of the team. The guys get in on the chant too.
Mom and I grab a late dinner, and in the morning, I take her to the airport. It was a good weekend. I spent time with my family, I spent time with my sport, and I racked up some of my best stats so far this season.
Thoughts of Rafe didn’t distract me a bit, and I think that maybe, just maybe, I can have it all—the man for thirty days and the life I want.
Mom boards her flight and I head to the team plane, still buoyed by the wins.
I drop into a seat next to Zane and slap his thigh. “We are the champions. I can fucking smell the postseason. Can you?”
He lifts his nose and inhales deep. “Oh, yeah! And it smells like recirculated air and victory.”
I crack up.
During the flight home, I chat with the guys, catch up with them on their families and friends, and then Zane and I watch a British comedy we love. Shane joins us for a critique of the accents. In my head, though, I hear my favorite British voice.
The flight home is a stark contrast to my flight there. I didn’t do it intentionally, but I proved I can balance the intensity of Rafe with my devotion to baseball and my family.
Somewhere over Utah, most of the guys have fallen asleep and the plane is quiet. But Zane’s up, so I turn to him and say quietly, “I think I’m going to see Rafe again.”
And wow. A weight lifts from my shoulders at having made a decision and voicing it to my trusted friend.
Zane smiles slyly. “Nice! I knew you couldn’t resist him.”
I lean back in the seat, feeling confident and more like myself.
“I’m not going to fall in love, just so you know,” I declare. “I’m going to win the bet, and I’m going to get laid. That. Is. All.”
Zane pats me on the shoulder, like whatever you say. “Sure, sure. I’m just glad you’re going to get some.”
Me fucking too.
When the plane lands, I send a text to Rafe.
One word.
Gunnar: Yes.
Then I follow it up with a request.
Gunnar: Can I see you tonight?
His reply comes in two minutes. It includes only his address and a time.
I head to my car, walking on air, and my phone rings. I figure it’ll be Rafe, all sexy and dirty, maybe giving me orders in advance. I’m about to answer with a hey babe when I see my agent’s calling.
I pick up. “Hey, Josh. What’s up?”
“You. Me. Drinks. I have deals to discuss with you. Deals that will make you very, very happy.”
Could this day get any better? Thank you, universe, for rewarding me. I am No Distractions Gunnar.
That evening, I meet Josh for drinks at The Spotted Zebra, a bar near my home. I spot him outside the watering hole, and he’s all smiles and swagger as I stride up to join him. “You definitely look like you have all the sweet deals for me,” I say.