Fix Her Up (Hot & Hammered #1)(19)

“The New York Bombers are looking for a new voice. Fresh, young, easy on the eyes. They’ve got a short list of candidates and you’re on it.” He could hear his agent punching computer keys in the background. “It pays in the two-comma neighborhood and you only have to work home games. National television. Who knows where it could lead? Look, man. It’s the next best thing to being on the field. You’ll be at the field, talking about the game you love. What do you say?”

Travis found himself thinking about the old Colonial with sagging shutters. The echoes of voices from the past in the kitchen, the feel of the coarse wooden porch underneath him. The man who’d told him he’d come crawling back as a disappointment eventually. Travis might have failed to achieve the kind of career he’d dreamed about, but this? This could be a way to salvage it. Commentating had never even occurred to him. Now it was this bright, shiny thing that made the chance to prove himself attainable again.

“You said I’m on a list. How do I get to the top?”

Donny sighed. “You know how it goes. There’s always a rub, my man.” His agent stopped typing, probably adopting his all too familiar let me level with you pose. “This is network television. They want wholesome. They want someone who isn’t going to show up hungover with panties hanging out of his pocket.”

“That happened once.”

“At a children’s hospital charity event.”

A jab of regret made Travis close his eyes. Just one of the many times he’d lived up to the Two Bats hype. “I’m not that guy anymore.”

“Right now you’re not—you’re in a rut. But a leopard doesn’t change its spots.” A calculated beat passed. “We just need to make them think you did.”

Travis shook his head. “How am I supposed to do that?”

“I’m working on getting you an invitation to dinner with the head of the network. Might be a couple weeks. Lie low until then. Or better yet, settle down and pop out a kid or two.”

“Not even if the Bombers offered me a ten-year contract, Donny.”

His agent snorted a laugh. “Worth a shot. Seriously, though. Find a way to prove some stability and we’re a shoo-in. You’re great on camera. Recognizable.” Another phone went off in the background. “I have to take this. I’ll keep you posted on that dinner invite.”

“Yeah. Bye.”

Feeling a little like a sleepwalker, Travis returned to the bar. It was too early in the game to tell Stephen and Dominic about the potential commentator job. He didn’t want to jinx himself, so he slid back onto his stool and picked up his beer, glad to see their unwanted guest had returned to his side of the bar. Travis’s mind should have been filled with the possibilities of getting a job involving baseball—something he’d stopped thinking of as an option over a month ago. Instead, something else was niggling at his subconscious. Like he’d shown up for a game without his favorite glove.

“Hey, what day is it?”

“Tuesday,” Dominic replied.

Fuck.

The few sips of beer in Travis’s stomach went sour.

He’d forgotten the fireplace appointment.

Poised to ask Stephen for Georgie’s number so he could call and reschedule, Travis took the phone back out of his pocket . . . and stopped. Let’s recap. You’re getting ready to ask your best friend for his little sister’s phone number. Are you fucking insane?

Yeah. He was. They never should have been spending time together in the first place. This was exactly what he needed—a wake-up call. If Stephen knew they’d been hanging out, he’d deck him. Travis would deserve it, too. He’d apologize for missing the appointment next time she showed up to pester him. Then he’d send Georgie on her way. For good this time. Still, when he put his phone back in his pocket, the guilt and unease refused to fade.





Chapter Six


Georgie tightened her hoodie strings as she walked into the torture palace, also known as Fun ’n’ Flirty Fitness. She’d been inside this place once before for an introductory yoga class—and that time had also been her sister-in-law’s fault. Kristin couldn’t seem to stop getting certified in things. Yoga. Zumba. Life coaching. Seriously. Pick a lane. In Stephen’s ongoing quest to keep Kristin as happy as a frolicking bunny, he’d issued the demand for his sisters to make an appearance at Kristin’s first official night as a Zumba instructor. The timing could not be better.

She signed in at the front desk and moped down the hallway, wishing she’d gotten lucky and contracted malaria. An infectious disease was the only way Stephen would let her off the hook, although he’d probably still be pissed about her canceling. The Castle family operated by a strict set of unspoken rules that must never be tested. One, their mother was a saint and must be treated thusly and obeyed in all things, lest the sky come crashing down. Two, when their mother wasn’t around, Stephen was next in line to the throne. It had been that way since Georgie was a child, and even though she thought it was bullshit, following his directives was as deeply ingrained as the Bob’s Burgers theme music.

Georgie stopped in front of the dark, empty aerobics room, wondering if she’d gotten the day mixed up. No, no. It was definitely Tuesday. The day Travis was supposed to come over and help her realize her dreams of fireplace glory.