The Dugout(10)

“No.” He shakes his head. “It’s brilliant.”

“Yeah?” I perk up. “You really think so?”

“Really, really smart, Mills.”

“You think I should talk to Rian and Sean about it?”

“I think you need to talk to them sooner than later so they can develop the space properly.”

“And even though they don’t want to focus on an individual sport, they’d go for it?”

Cory sits up and grows serious. “If anything, Mills, they’re businessmen, smart businessmen at that, and they know good ideas when presented. This is better than a good idea. This is sheer brilliance and will fill a hole in Chicago. They have the talent in coaches and the name for the facility already, so they’d be idiots not to take it on.”

I can’t contain my smile. “Okay, so, I should write up a proposal then? Should I include a PowerPoint presentation?”

“You know Rian needs visuals, so at least include something like that.”

I laugh out loud and nod. “He does. Okay. Awesome. Thank you, Cory. I really appreciate it.”

“Anything for my little sis.” He yawns and flops back on his bed. “Shit, I’m whipped. Is there anything else I need to know? Any love interests you’ve left out?”

I shake my head. “Please, if a guy were interested in me, you’d hear about it. No one is knocking at my door.” I push up my glasses and avoid looking at myself in the tiny little FaceTime box. “I’m not really looking for a relationship anyway, so it’s whatever.”

“Maybe if you plucked that unibrow every once in a while, a guy would turn his head,” Cory jokes.

“I don’t have a unibrow.” I rub my forehead with my hand, trying to remember the last time I did pluck my eyebrows. I forget about the everyday girly things to do because growing up, I really never focused on them.

I’m the tomboy, the girl every guy wants to be friends with but no one wants to kiss. And it’s fine, I’m cool with that . . .

Although, it would be nice to be asked out on a date just once.

I’ll pluck after I get off the phone, just for the hell of it.

“Have you tried on any of those clothes I had Cheryl send to you?”

“You know I love your assistant, but her choice in clothing comes from the corners of horny and whorebag. I would never wear anything in that box.”

Chuckling, he says, “Just because the shorts aren’t made of mesh, doesn’t mean they’re made for whores.”

“I have other shorts that aren’t mesh.”

“Khaki Bermuda shorts.”

“Hey, they’re a nice length and I’ll have you know I started wearing skinny jeans.”

“And let me guess, you wear a baggy shirt on top.”

“God gave me a bosom, so I like to cover it up.”

He rolls his eyes and sighs. “Whatever you say, Mills. But you will tell me if there’s a guy you like?”

My mind immediately floats to Carson and the way he looked at me in the panini line, his eyes boring into me. I swallow hard, and hold back the absolute disgust of the idea that someone like Carson Stone would even consider taking a second look at me. I can one hundred percent guarantee I’m not that guy’s type, not even close.

“Yes, I would tell you. Now get some sleep. You have some ass to kick tomorrow.”

“The Lions will have no idea what hit them when I step up to plate. Thanks for the tips by the way, Mills, you really helped me out.”

“What are sisters for?”





Chapter Four





CARSON





“Thanks for waking up with me and coming to the cages,” I say to Jason, who’s holding a to-go cup of coffee in one hand and a ball in the other.

“Yeah, sure. I always wondered what campus looked like in the dark. It’s . . . black.”

“Sorry about the time. I told you, you could sleep in the locker room while I did tee work, but I need you to pitch balls to me.”

“Nah, I’m good. You need someone here to tell you what you’re doing wrong.”

I stare at the tee, lift my leg, and swing through the ball, sailing it against the back net, dead center. It’s the perfect hit, smooth and clean, which is how I always hit off the tee. A lot of the guys hate working off the tee, but it’s the most fundamental thing you can do when training your swing. If you can’t do it, don’t even bother going up to plate.

“But after seeing that swing, I’m not sure there’s anything I could tell you to change.” He lets out a deep breath. “Do you think it’s all in your head, man?”

“I don’t know.” He places another ball down. I angle my body for an outside pitch and take the ball to the opposite side of the cage.

Perfect.

“Sometimes I think it’s in my head, but when I’m in the batter’s box, I don’t think of anything but the pitcher and the delivery, trying to pick up the ball as quickly as possible. I drown out the crowd and the other team and Disik’s loud and obnoxious voice. I’m not distracted easily up to bat, so that’s why I feel like I’m at a loss here.”

Jason puts another ball on the tee. “Well, keep swinging and let me see if I notice anything.”