Page 3 of Caught Looking

I wanted to go home.

“There you are!” Jeri MacNeil, my team captain and one of my very best friends, came up beside me on the railing, oblivious to the show taking place in the sky. “We have a problem, Ryan.” She preferred to call me by my last name, as did everyone I’d ever played soccer with since I was ten years old.

Jeri was not dramatic. Sarcastic, yes, foul mouthed, sure, but dramatic? Never. If she said there was a problem, then there was aproblem.“Who is puking and where?” We had at least three young rookies with us and the birds, as we called them, were more naive than I remembered being at that age.

“Not that kind of problem. Owen just showed up.” She ran a hand over her short blonde hair as she grimaced.

I froze as ice slid through my veins. “No. Why is he here?” I hissed. Owen Montgomery was my ex, a jerk face I never wanted to see again, and, unfortunately, a famous sports documentarian. Not when we dated, of course, but now?Famousfamous. Super famous. Hugely famous. And even more of a jerk face asshole, from what I’d heard. Running into him would be torture. The last time had been three years ago, right after his documentary on Kingston Reynolds went wild and everyone wanted a piece of him. He’d said the vilest things to me and insinuated he could end my career.

Just to drive the point home, the next day my agent called to let me know my one and only sponsorship deal at the time had concerns.

Concerns!

Because four years ago I made the mistake of dating a terrible person.

I had to get out of here.

But when we started to move Jeri spun back around. “Too late. Maybe go the other way?”

I slid along the railing, dodging the onlookers and only occasionally jumping when the fireworks exploded overhead. Our progress was slow but it slowed even more when we met the line for the outside bar.

We were cornered. Water on one side, the bar on the other, and Owen behind us.

“Shit. Maybe if I find some shadows I can wait until he moves to the other end of the party.” I took a look over Jeri’s shoulder and my stomach flipped. How was he this close? Was he following us? Had he seen me?

“He’s still there, isn’t he?” Jeri grumbled.

“Talking to Roman St. James.” Roman was one of many Bancroft Sports agents mingling with the guests. “Maybe he’ll keep him distracted.”

“Better idea.” Jeri reached over and grabbed someone’s arm, yanking them out of the bar line.

“Everything okay?” A familiar, masculine voice washed over me, making me shiver, before I looked up at a pair of soft brown eyes.

Jeri must have lost her damn mind.

“Pretend to be Ryan’s boyfriend.” Jeri shoved me at Seth Butler, outfielder for the St. Pete Mantas. Home run king. Notorious womanizer.

We’d only just met a few weeks ago when the Tangerines and the Mantas had a joint practice at Sunshine Stadium. It was a big publicity stunt to get great photos and funny videos of Mantas trying to play soccer and Tangerines learning baseball. Seth hadn’t been himself that day and, with the rumors of his womanizing fresh in my mind, I took the opportunity to run circles around him. To his credit, he took the beatdown like a champ. Then, not long after, we were in the same charity run. He’d blown all my preconceived notions out of the water with the care he took with the little boy he’d been assigned. Not to mention my freaking lie-detector of a dog, Roscoe, adored him.

According to the media, Seth Butler slept with whoever he wanted, whenever he wanted, and wasn’t afraid to steal a baby.

But according to my own experiences, Seth Butler was more like a lost little boy who just wanted to belong somewhere.

And I really couldn’t rectify the two. But now was not the time to try. The last thing I needed right now was a confused mind and an even more confused body.

Seth’s eyebrows hit his hairline. “Rhett will kill me.” Rhett was my cousin and Seth’s teammate.

“Iwill kill you if you don’t,” Jeri gritted out.

I shook my head. “This makes no sense. It won’t work. He’ll see right through it,” I protested, but my heart rate had spiked and a wave of anxiety slithered down my spine. Maybe thiswasn’tthe worst idea. I hated talking to Owen and if I absolutely had to, I’d rather do it with armor.

“You two are a known quantity,” Jeri waved us closer. “Everyone ate up the joint practice footage of you handing Butler his ass. And the photos of you two from that charity run are everywhere. Plus, Butler has an ego the size of Tampa Bay. What better way to face that asshole than with someone who can fire back.”

She made a somewhat valid point. Owen’s ego was massive. The man seriously thought he was God’s gift to, well,everything.And Seth, even though he had a reputation, had never been anything but nice to me.

“What the hell is going on?” Seth asked, his voice low.

He was a sexy man. Tousled light brown hair, soft brown eyes, full lips, and the body of a professional baseball player. His arms were as roped and cut as my legs were for soccer. His looks alone had women throwing panties at him, but add in the fact that he was by far the most famous player on the Mantas, and well, he didn’t exactly have a hard time earning his reputation as a playboy.

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