I blush. “Thanks, Jorge. Hey, what’re you hearing around here?”
He shrugs, but I know he’s got the undercurrent of gossip. “They’re saying you’re doing a good job. I’ve heard a few of these pendejos say something about you being a woman, but don’t listen to that bullshit. Just keep killing it, and no one can say shit.”
His insight always makes me feel better. “And you? How are you doing?”
Jorge rubs his back. “Mija, I’m old. Older than this stadium. But my old ass keeps on chugging.”
That wasn’t false; he was older than the stadium. It had been built only ten years earlier.
I gently laid a hand on his shoulder. “You need something, you tell me. All right, I’ve got to go. That work ethic calls.”
With a final wink from my friend, I’m off.
I’m due on the field for an outfielder’s training session. We’re going to be using the tires, ropes, and agility ladder out there. It’s a special routine I’ve developed for the players who can allow for a little bulk in the game of baseball. You have to train exactly the right muscle groups per position because each one on the field called for a different skill set.
My sneakers turn in that direction and no sooner do I spot the guy who was screwing my brains out no more than three nights ago.
Sinclair is standing just feet away, looking like sex on a stick. I swear, even in a dorky Pistons polo, the man sizzles. His dark hair is tousled and damp still, like he only got out of the shower a little while ago and ran those thick fingers through the locks.
His mouth lifts up in a cocky grin, one that clearly indicates he’s seen me naked. Annoyance and lust flutter down my spine in a frustrating combination.
I have to walk past him to get to the field, and yet I hesitate. I’m not a person who hesitates. I’m focused, driven, and usually, nothing stands in my way. It pisses me off that this guy could make me feel that, especially in my domain.
Putting my blinders on, I march his way and past him without sparing him a glance.
Entering one of the tunnels that leads to the field, I hear footsteps echoing behind me.
“Don’t make me chase you. I don’t chase.” I hear that smooth, deep voice.
But I don’t stop walking. If I can pretend it never happened, if I can avoid him, maybe this freaking gnat invading my workspace will go away.
“Francesca.” His voice is a warning, and that’s the thing that stops me in my tracks.
It’s the first time I’ve ever heard Sinclair sound controlling or serious. And it’s seriously hot.
I wait for him to come to me, to walk around and face me. I won’t be the one bending.
“What do you want?” I ask, an edge to my voice that I cringe at.
I wanted to appear composed, and here I am sounding like a sulky teenager, running off at the first sign of his presence.
“I just wanted to say good morning.” His smirk says anything but, and a dimple I hadn’t noticed until now pops out on his left cheek.
It makes my core blush with more attraction.
“Sure you did.” I slant an eyebrow at him.
“What? Can’t two coworkers have a friendly conversation?” Though he steps into me, way too flirty for this to be a friendly conversation.
God, he’s infuriating.
“This is my workplace, Sinclair. This is my domain, and I’m the boss. I don’t need my personal life coming here, mocking me. It was a one-time thing. If you tell anyone, if you use this to make me look—”
“Francesca.” He holds a hand up to stop me and uses my full name. “We had sex. Stop being such a girl about it. I had fun. I want to do it again, if you’d like to. I’m not asking you to date me. Hell, neither of us want that, let’s be serious. And I would never tell anyone what we did. I’m not that guy. I know how much of a boss you are, it’s what makes me so attracted to you. But the other night was great. I want to do it again. No strings. So, think about it.”
And just like that, he walks off in the direction of wherever he’s shooting today.
Dammit, if I’m not absolutely smitten with the man. Because he said exactly the right thing, the perfect proposition to keep me interested with no ties at the same time.
Sinclair is trouble, that’s for sure. Just the kind of trouble I want to try several times before I know better.
7
Sinclair
Two nights later, I just happen to wander back to Eddie’s, the bar on the beach near Frankie’s apartment.
And she just happens to stroll in.
Then we just happen to sit next to each other at the bar.
The whole thing is a charade, one we know is a formality. Before she could even order her first drink, I raised an eyebrow at her, and she was taking my hand, pulling me down the crowded Fort Myers main drag and back up to her apartment.
She rode me on her couch, my face buried in her tits, the sounds of her raspy moans filling my ears. Fuck, I could get hard just thinking about it, and I’m sitting here in front of Colleen, in her Florida office.
“Sin? Are you even listening to me?” My cousin’s face floats back into view as she snaps her fingers at the same time.
Coll is my older cousin, the general manager of the Packton Pistons, and an all-around badass. Though she’s completely humble about it.
I tear my eyes from the plate glass window of her office, the one that forms the entire back wall and looks down onto the spring training stadium. Her officer here pretty much resembles her one at home in Packton, and it’s distracting. Maybe it’s a power move my uncle Jimmy put into place because that seems like him.
Colleen’s father, my dad’s brother, went to jail a few years ago for basically bribing and blackmailing half the major league teams. He swindled, stole, and did a lot of illegal shit. He’s still in prison, and the Piston name isn’t fully cleared, but my cousin is doing a fantastic job of getting the club back on track.
“Where is Hayes? Why didn’t he come down? He’s much more fun than you,” I say, referring to her now-retired baseball player fiancé.
She rolls her eyes. “Hayes puts up with your shit about as much as I do, so don’t try to avoid the subject. How is the job going?”
I let out a sigh. “You’re not my mother, you know. She’s on my back about as much as you, so I don’t need two guilt trips. And Dad is laying it on thick as well. Can you all just chill?”
“We want you to do well. We want you to be happy, take pride in your work.” Colleen gives me a guilty smirk.
“I like it, so far. I mean, they all know I’m some trust fund brat, but I like the work.” My gaze falls to my shoes.
Coll comes around the desk to sit in the plush leather chair identical to the one I’m sitting in. “I know a little bit about what it feels like to be judged. Hell, I’m the first female general manager of this team. I’m the daughter of their heir, the bad guy. I know what it’s like for people to think you haven’t worked for anything, or that you’ll quit when it gets too hard. You’re not the only one in this family who got slapped with that stigma since the day you were born.”
“No, I’m just the one who followed through on it,” I quip, wringing my hands.