Page 12 of The Strike Zone

Anyone caught failing to uphold this agreement will face disciplinary action. If you are already in a relationship with an employee, respond to this email.

Please note: signature from both parties is required.

Any questions should be directed to the New York Lions HR dept.

Sincerely,

HR

Fuck my life.

THREE

PARKER

“Did you know about this?” I hissed to Ace as I slipped into the chair next to him.

He didn’t answer. He was too focused on what was happening at the front of the auditorium, where Coach Chase was gathered with a couple of the other coaches, as well as Riley Rivers, one of the alternate pitchers.

At least his debrief hadn’t started yet.

“What’s going on?”

Ace shook his head. “Don’t know, and I can’t lip read from this angle.”

“Cool, anyway, did you know about this?” I shoved my phone in front of him.

He glanced down briefly, before looking back at me. “What?”

I swiped my screen open, again. “This. This email.”

Taking my phone, he scanned the words. From the way his eyebrows shot up I could tell this was the first time he was seeing it too. I didn’t appreciate the smirk growing on his face, however.

“Shit, bud.” He shook his head. “That’s rough. Is that because of Boomer?”

My mouth dropped. Fuck. It hadn’t even occurred to me that there was a definitive cause behind this beyond HR being a giant fucking pain in my ass.

Boomer Jones, goddammit.

“Do you know if anyone else has seen it?”

Ace shrugged, his attention back on whatever conversation Coach was having. “Dunno. No one reads their emails, do they? Probably why they sent it.”

I jerked to the right as Tanner dropped onto the bench next to me. Next to me was incorrect,landed onme was more accurate.

“Tan, Jesus. I’m literally sitting right here.”

“I know, sorry, got too excited.” He turned to me, his eyes wide in excitement. “Well?”

“Well what?” I grumped.

“Er…Scout. When’s the first date?”

“Never.” I groaned through the solid clench of my jaw and opened my phone again, handing it to Tanner. “Did you know about this?”

As Ace’s had done, Tanner’s brows shot up as he read over the email. “Whoa. This is fucked up.”

“Yeah.” I glanced down, scanning the words for the dozenth time searching for a loophole, for anything which meant I could ask Scout on a date without having to sign a declaration about it first.

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