The Trade Read online

  “You’re one guy, even you can’t make or break the team. That’s why it’s called a team.” Milly rolls her eyes and I can tell she’s getting upset.

  “And the guys? Are they at least cool?” Carson asks, changing the focus of our conversation.

  “Assholes,” I mutter, keeping my voice down since some of them are in attendance. The nice ones. “Maddox Paige being one of the biggest assholes out of all of them.”

  Carson agrees with a curt nod. “I could see that. He has a hell of an arm on the field and is a massive dick in the interviews.”

  Carson looks over his shoulder and says, “Next year, Jason’s going to have one hell of a time catching him.”

  “Jason’s going to be eaten alive by the fans.” I finish off my drink and hand it to a waiter that passes by with a tray. “He’s too nice. That’s why Rebels fans love Maddox so much, because he’s an ass and they thrive off the dickhead on the field.”

  “It’s true. Don’t the fans have a tally of how many bench-clearing fights the team gets into every year?”

  “Yup.” I stuff my hands in my pockets. “One of the first things they said to me when I stepped into the locker room was that I better be able to throw down.” I shake my head. “That’s not the kind of player I am. Never will be.”

  Milly steps in and says, “Even though you’re in your thirties, Mom and Dad would still kill you if you ever got into a fight on the field.”

  I chuckle softly. “Yeah, Dad would be at my car in the players’ parking lot, arms crossed over his chest, waiting to rip me a new one.” I drag my hand down my face. “I don’t know. I’m hoping next year will be better. I dropped in on the team out of nowhere. At least next season we’ll spend some time together during spring training. I’m hoping we’ll be able to bond during that time.”

  “At least you have Jason who was just traded as well,” Carson says. “You’ll be able to rely on him, since he’s pretty much infatuated with you.”

  I see him off to the side, chatting with Knox Gentry and Knox’s girlfriend. I don’t know much about Jason Orson, but what I do know, I like. He’s the reason we’re at this event right now, a fundraiser for his foundation, The Lineup, which raises money to support kids with disabilities to participate in baseball. His brother, Joseph, has cerebral palsy and has been a part of Jason’s career from the very beginning. Before the fundraiser baseball game, they showed a video of Jason and Joseph together. In high school, Joseph filled in as a pinch runner, out on the field with his walker. Jason would hit him in, giving Joseph that chance to cross home plate.

  The whole montage brought a tear to my eye and the mission of Jason’s foundation rang true to my heart. That’s what the sport should be about. Giving back. I slipped him a personal check after the game, because I couldn’t think of a better way to spend my money than put more smiles on the faces of kids just like his brother.

  “Yeah, there’s that at least,” I say, feeling like all the life has just been sucked out of me. I hate talking about my fucking team, more than anything.

  Sensing my irritation, Milly says, “You know, Emory’s friend Lindsay is single . . .”

  “Jesus Christ, Milly.” I roll my eyes.

  “What?” She chuckles. “She is and she’s really nice. She has a little boy who’s incredibly sweet. Loves baseball.”

  “I’m sure they’re great people, but you know I’m not ready to be a father figure with my schedule. And I also don’t—”

  A bout of laughter echoes through the event space, drawing our attention. I turn to see where’s it’s coming from. I look past shuffling waiters, a few Bobbies and Rebels with their accompanying guests, and spot a girl with shoulder-length, caramel-colored hair standing next to Joseph, hand in his, and a beautiful smile gracing her face.

  Wow.

  Stunning.

  Her smile doesn’t just stretch across her face, but curves up to her eyes, lighting them up so beautifully that it’s impossible to look away. And her infectious laugh, sweet but not fake, the perfect tone and length.

  Just from her smile and the sound of her laugh, my body reacts to her. Pulse speeding up, a thrill of excitement shoots down my spine, and in that moment, I realize I want to know who this girl is.

  “I’m going to grab another drink,” Carson says, pulling me back to the conversation with him and Milly. “Do you want anything?”

  I shake my head and try to be coy. “No, I think I’m going to mingle.”

  “Okay.” Carson takes Milly’s hand in his. “Come on, wife, I want to get you liquored up so you’re loose with your panties tonight.”

  “Dude,” I mutter, backing away quickly before things get out of control.

  I hear him laugh as my mortified sister follows closely behind. I love Carson like one of my brothers, and even though he says massively inappropriate things about my sister to me on the regular, it still makes me happy. I know he’s comfortable around me. Carson hasn’t had the best family life, so knowing we can be there for him, be the family he needs, it means a lot to us.

  Turning toward the group of people congregated around Joseph, I take a deep breath and start heading in their direction, practicing in my head what I should say, trying not to sound awkward and intruding.

  I’m a few feet away when Jason comes up to my side and grips my shoulder.

  “Cory Fucking Potter, I have a boner right now just thinking about how you’re here.”

  Jason is . . . an interesting guy. A total talent on the field, but an odd guy in real life. A mother hen, obnoxious, and loves gaining a reaction from people. I’ve spent a few hours with him, and I already know he’s different from anyone I know.

  “If you’re asking me to take care of that boner for you, I’m afraid that goes past my realm of friendship. Maybe Knox is interested.”

  Jason laughs and the sound feels familiar, as if I just heard it.

  “Knox wants nothing to do with my boner. Already asked.”

  “Jason,” a feminine voice chastises. I turn just in time to see the girl with the smile walk up to us. “Can you please not talk about boners at the event?”

  He shrugs and says, “I blame the booze.”

  Now that I look closely, Jason’s eyes are slightly glazed over and he has a small sway to his body. Drunk is right.

  Sighing, the girl steps up and says, “Is this because of Dottie?”

  “Pishhhhh.” Jason waves his hand in front of his face. “No.”

  Not sure who Dottie is, but I’m going to guess Jason’s current state of intoxication is maybe due to Dottie and a lack of her presence.

  Concerned, the girl reaches up and brushes Jason’s hair off his forehead. “I think you should go home.”

  He shakes his head. “No. I just need some water.” He turns to me and his face falls. “Shit, I’m being so rude.” Gesturing to me, he says, “Nat, this is Cory Fucking Potter. Cory, this is my sister, Natalie.”

  His sister?

  Holy shit.

  Jason’s sister is fine as fuck.

  Now that I look at the both of them, I see the resemblance in their eyes and the same faint dimples that indent their cheeks.

  Natalie holds out her hand and says, “Do you go by Cory Fucking Potter, or can I just call you Cory?”

  A sense of humor. Shit, she might very well be perfect.

  “Cory Fucking Potter to strangers, just Cory to friends.”

  “Where do I stand when it comes to being considered a friend?” she asks, releasing my hand and blinking up at me, eyes bright and exuding a happiness I haven’t seen in another human being in a long time. Well, apart from Milly earlier. No doubt she’ll be smiling for days.

  “Friend,” I say, on an exhaled breath. “Any family member of Jason’s is a friend.”

  “Does that mean you’re choosing to be friends with this guy?” Natalie asks, thumbing toward her brother.

  “Unfortunately, Carson and Knox paid me to take care of him. The Rebels are tough, and th
ey’re afraid he’s going to crack under pressure.”

  “They’re worried about me?” Jason asks, hands to his heart. “That’s so fucking sweet. I thought they couldn’t stand me.”

  Natalie nudges her brother toward the bar. “Water, now, before you embarrass yourself and start crying under a table.” Natalie raises a brow in my direction. “It’s happened before.”

  “At a charity event for rescue animals,” Jason defends. “You’re a monster for not getting emotional over those rescue stories. Those dogs never felt grass under their paws before, Nat. Grass.”

  She shoves Jason. “Water . . . now.”

  “Fine.” He points at me. “Cory Fucking Potter. Love you, man. Love you hard.”

  With that, he takes off and leaves me alone with his sister, who’s currently staring at me with that beautiful smile of hers shining bright.

  “Jason told me about your donation. That was very kind of you.”

  I shrug, hating when people thank me for things. I don’t do it for the recognition, but because I want to. “I really like his foundation and the idea of including everyone into the sport we love.”

  “I remember the first time I saw Joseph out on the field.” She crosses her arms over her chest. The classic polo she’s wearing with the foundation’s logo embroidered on the side, does nothing for her frame, but everything to make the blue in her irises pop. “I’ve never seen that type of joy on another human’s face before. He was so excited, he was hopping up and down at third base. And then when Jason hit him home and Joseph crossed home plate”—she shakes her head remembering—“I cried for the rest of the inning. It’s why when Jason told me he wanted to start The Lineup, I begged him to hire me.”

  Surprised, I say, “You head up the foundation?”

  She nods. “Yes, and I couldn’t think of a better job. It’s taken up a lot of my time, especially getting everything started, but it’s been worth it.”

  “Did you put this event together?” I ask, glancing around the ballroom space, impressed with how the space is laid out, offering enough room to mingle and talk, but with relevance to the event everywhere you look, so as an attendee, you don’t forget why you’re here.

  “Yup. Thankfully Jason gave me all the power when it came to the fundraiser setup, he just had a hand in the game. If it were up to Jason, I’m sure it would have been way more fancy than this, which would have sucked money away from our goal.”

  “Jason, fancy?” I ask.

  Natalie rolls her eyes. “When it comes to food, he’s very particular. I’m pretty sure when he retires from baseball, he’ll go back to college to earn a degree in culinary arts.” She glances around me, I guess feeling safe about her distance from him and says, “Ever hear him boast about his potato salad?”

  “Not directly from him, but I did see him post about it on Instagram.”

  Natalie dramatically rolls her eyes, and it’s fucking cute. She leans in and levels with me. “You did not hear this from me, do you understand?”

  Loving the fact that this girl, who’s captured my attention, is already trusting me to hold a secret, I emphatically say, “Of course.”

  Coming a little closer, offering me the sweet scent of her perfume, she says, “We had a secret vote a few months back, and between our family, including grandparents, we all voted, and my version of the best potato salad ever was the winner.”

  “Oh shit,” I say, chuckling. “He doesn’t know?”

  She straightens and shakes his head. “We agreed it would physically break him, especially since he’s already in a delicate state right now.”

  I scratch the side of my jaw and look back at Jason, who’s chugging a glass of water with Knox. “Does his delicate state have to do with this Dottie girl?”

  She nods. “Unfortunately. He fell in love, she hurt him, he’s not speaking to her even though she’s trying to apologize—basic relationship stuff. I’m sure they’ll work it out once he figures out he can’t live like this anymore, without her.”

  I glance at Jason again, feeling sorry for the guy. Never having experienced heartbreak before, I can’t relate, but I have seen friends go through it, especially Milly with Carson. I felt her pain when they split up, I fucking lived her pain, so I can understand why Jason looks lost right now, as if he can’t quite find his home.

  “I hope they work it out.”

  “Me too.” Natalie sighs and says, “I should go make the rounds. Thank some more people. It was lovely meeting you, Cory Fucking Potter.”

  “You too.” I smile despite the disappointment of her departure. I want to find out more about her life, not simply talk about the one thing we have in common: Jason. I want to know what else makes her cry tears of joy, what makes her throw her head back and laugh, and how I can bring that smile to her face. Unsure what comes over me, I say, “If you get bored of saying thank you, I’ll be over at that table, drowning myself in baseball cupcakes.”

  Once again, the corners of her mouth tilt up and she says, “It’s the strawberry jam in the middle that has you addicted, isn’t it?” I’m thinking right about now that it’s the way her dimples make an appearance on her smooth cheeks that has me growing addicted to something else.

  “Yeah, the fruit compote with the chocolate is killer.”

  She points to herself. “All me.” With a friendly pat to my shoulder she says, “Catch you around, Potter.”

  And then she takes off, leaving me wanting way more than cupcakes.

  Chapter Two

  CORY

  When it comes to fundraising events, I’d say I generally stay the average amount of time. I make the rounds, introducing myself to people I might not know and having a quick chat with the people I do. I sample the food, have two drinks, donate some money, smile for some pictures, and then I take off. Not staying too late or leaving too early.

  Tonight is different.

  Tonight, I’m lingering.

  Carson and Milly took off a half hour ago along with Knox and Emory. Jason is talking with Walker Rockwell, the catcher for the Bobbies, and there are a few other attendees snacking on Cracker Jacks and cupcakes, me being one of them.

  Sitting at a high-top table, I scan the space looking for the one reason I haven’t left, but for the life of me, I haven’t been able to find her ever since she said goodbye to Carson and Milly. Did she leave too? I can’t imagine her leaving before everyone is gone.

  Casually sipping on the beer I’ve been nursing for over an hour, I stare down at the golden liquid, trying to understand this immediate attraction I have toward Jason’s sister, because frankly, I’ve never felt this way before about a woman. Yes, I’ve found them attractive. Yes, I’ve been able to have good conversations. But they’ve never extinguished the breath right from my lungs with one look, and that’s what’s concerning me.

  “How many cupcakes have you eaten?” That voice. Immediately, my stomach flips in excitement as I turn to see Natalie step up next to me, looking exhausted but happy.

  Leaning on one arm, I turn toward her and say, “Three.”

  From behind her, she sets down a tray of the mini cupcakes that have been a hit. “Three is entirely not enough. Get to work, Potter.”

  “Only if you help me.”

  Her eyes look over the dwindling guests and I can see her shoulders relax. “I think I can spare a moment or two. But I refuse to stand any longer. Can we sit at that table?” She points to a table not far from us, and I nod.

  Taking the cupcake tray and my beer, I say, “Can I grab you a drink?”

  She shakes her head and we both take a seat. “Water is fine.” Picking up the table pitcher and an unused glass, she pours herself a drink and then sits back in her chair. “If you ever think about wearing heels to an event, you should think better of it.”

  “Really?” I ask, taking a quick glance at her black high heels. “That kind of screws up my plans for my next event.”

  Her lip twitches up. “Man, would I pay a lot of money
to see you walk around in heels. Hell, to see you or my brother walk around in heels. Talk about a true rebel.”

  I chuckle. “Think it will help my image with the fans?”

  She shakes her head and sips from her glass before handing me a cupcake and grabbing one for herself. “No, I think you’re going to have to do some real shady things to earn the respect of those fans.” She taps her chin. “A few things come to mind.”

  “Oh yeah? Let me hear them.”

  “Well”—she folds down the wrapper to the cupcake—“there’s always the obvious—getting thrown out of a game for spouting obscenities at an umpire and then kicking him in the shin.”

  “Classic.” I nod, undoing my wrapper as well.

  She takes a small bite. “And then there’s the water bottle chucking at a journalist when they ask you a preposterous question, followed by storming off.”

  “Ah yes, water bottle to the head. Love that one.”

  Icing attaches to her upper lip and I watch in fascination as her little, pink tongue sticks out and licks it off. “If you’re feeling really rabid, you could punch a paparazzi in the face outside the ballpark. But not sure if you want to be sued or not.”

  “Never been sued. I’m not opposed to the idea.”

  She finishes off her cupcake. “And the last one, although a little crazy, I’m pretty sure would make you an idol in the eyes of the Rebels’ fans.”

  “I’m listening,” I say, leaning forward.

  She drums her fingers on the table and asks, “How do you feel about steroids?” I go to answer when she holds up her hand. “I know, I know. Big leap here, but, if you take them, get caught, and then get banned for some games, boy, oh boy, will you receive one hell of a welcome back.” She can’t keep a straight face as she sips her water.

  Playing along, I say, “You know, the idea is crazy, but it just might work.”

  “Perfect. Steroids it is.”

  “Now if only I knew someone who sells them.”

  Smiling devilishly, she answers, “Ask your teammates; half of them are using them already.”