Stealing Home(48)

Shepherd wasn’t my favorite person to be around. Actually, he might have been one of my least favorite, but as the crowd around Archer continued to grow, Shepherd’s company became more desirable. I’d rather be talking to him than no one.

“I’m here to support the team,” I said right before I hiccupped. The champagne had gone straight to my head, which was a welcome relief since alcohol was clouding my Luke Archer Rubik’s cube of confusion.

“And support the team you do.” Shepherd followed where my gaze had moved to. That same person stationed in the center of the room, holding a room full of people in his hand. “So very, very well.”

“What does that mean?” My eyes narrowed from his tone or from what he was alluding to with his tone.

“This is Archer’s best season. And it’s not like his three prior seasons were shit, if you know what I mean.”

“I’m sure I don’t have a clue.”

“All I’m saying is that whatever you’re doing, keep it up, Allie.” Shepherd slid a little closer, his gaze dropping to where the V in my dress came together. “Archer stays this hot, I see a World Series win in our future.”

The skin on the back of my neck tingled. From what he was saying, from how he was saying it, from the way he was looking at me. I wanted to play dumb and deny his veiled accusation, but I hadn’t approached anything in life by playing dumb and I wasn’t about to start with the likes of Shepherd.

“Whatever you’re trying to say, Shepherd, spit it the hell out. My head’s swimming in too much champagne to figure out cryptic riddles.”

Shepherd didn’t stop running his eyes over me, and with him getting closer, I could make out the glassiness in his eyes. He was marinating in more champagne than I was.

“I’m saying that of all the Incentive Girls I’ve seen thrown at Archer, you’re the one who’s squeezed the best results out of our boy. Or should I say f*cked the best results out of him.” Shepherd’s head tipped, his smile eclipsing into one that made me shiver.

“You’re drunk.”

“And you must be such a slut in bed, you might actually get to hang around for a second season. Most of the girls the team brings on only last a year, but you”—he whistled, shaking his head—“you just might be this generation’s Marilyn.”

Setting my glass down, I put some space between us. “At this point in your depravity, I think it’s a good thing I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, please. Marilyn Monroe? Joe DiMaggio? Why do you think he became the legend he is today?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Because he was a great ball player?”

“Made great because he got to look forward to a fine piece of ass crawling over his cock every night.”

His words hit me like someone had just slapped me across the cheek. Whatever sexual harassment policies the team had drawn up, Shepherd was breaking just about every single one of them.

“You are an *.”

“Oh, please. That woman couldn’t act to save her soul. But servicing dick—she could have taken home the Academy Award.”

Anger coursed through me, mixing with the alcohol. It was a volatile combination. “I wasn’t calling you an * because of what you’re accusing Marilyn Monroe of. I was and still am calling you an * because of what you’re accusing me of.” Nevermind the fact that DiMaggio and Monroe hadn’t even met until after he’d retired from baseball. Clearly, Shepherd wasn’t up on his baseball trivia like I was.

Shepherd exchanged his empty glass for the one I’d left unfinished on the counter. “What? Are you not servicing Luke Archer’s dick?”

My stomach turned over. How did he know? How had he found out?

“Don’t worry, Allie. Your valiant Archer didn’t f*ck and tell or anything.” He drained my glass in a single sip. “It was just implied in your contract when you were brought on.”

“I was brought on as an athletic trainer. Athletic trainer. The same exact job as the one you have.” When I realized my hands were starting to shake, I wound them behind my back. I didn’t want him to see me rattled. I didn’t want to confirm his suspicions.

“Yes, you were brought on as an ‘athletic trainer.’” He snorted. “Just like the girl last season was brought on as a ‘physical therapist,’ and the one before her as a ‘dietitian,’ and the one Archer’s first season as a ‘guest reporter.’”

The room started to close in on me. I had no reason to believe what Shepherd was saying; just like I had no reason to disbelieve what he was saying. He might have been an *, but he was a drunk one right now and couldn’t have just pulled all of that out of his ass if it wasn’t true. Or could he?

God, my head hurt.

“Oh please, don’t be so na?ve.” Shepherd dropped his hand on my shoulder and gave me a little shake like he was trying to break me out of shock. “How do you think a team attracts a player like Archer and keeps a player like him? It sure as shit isn’t with just heaps of cash. But it’s not exactly like the Shock can put a traveling hooker on the payroll, so they’ve found legal ways around it.”

I shrugged out from beneath his hand, my eyes searching the room for Archer. He was still in the same place, but he was watching me. When he noticed the look on my face, his brows drew together. His eyes narrowed when he saw Shepherd so close.