Page 73 of Caught Looking

Annalise tried to drop my hand, but I squeezed tighter. “Where you go, I go, babe.”

She sighed but didn’t argue.

Neither did the woman leading us to the elevators. “How are you feeling?”

Annalise pasted on a smile. “Better. You?”

The woman shrugged. “I’ll get over it.”

I recognized her now. She was the other woman in the video. I stuck out my hand. “Seth Butler.”

She took it. “Melody Sanchez.”

“Melody is our head of marketing,” Annalise explained.

“Thank you for having Annalise’s back yesterday.”

She blushed. “I just hope we never see Owen Montgomery again.”

Annalise’s lips thinned but she didn’t say anything as we stepped onto an elevator that took us up to the level above the box seats. There were views of the field from here as well, but this floor was reserved for offices. It had that clean, efficient design to it that I recognized from Sunshine Stadium.

Melody led us down the hallway while the rest of the team stayed back by the elevators. Even though I had no idea where we were going or what waited for us, I felt lighter than I could remember feeling in years.

And it had everything to do with the woman beside me and the hand inside mine. I had never really held hands with a woman before. I held all my girlfriends’ hands in high school and college, but those relationships were so shallow, so long ago, and now they felt like they belonged to a boy and girl, not a man and a woman.

This was an entirely different experience. I didn’t hold Annalise’s hand because it was fun or because it got me one step closer to touching other parts of her. I held her hand because we belonged together. We were two halves of a whole. I craved the connection, the electric spark that flowed between us even when we were apart, but was so much calmer when we touched. Plus, Annalise was mine. And I was hers. Our linked hands told the whole world that we were a couple.

And damn did I like that.

“In here,” Melody pushed open a door, giving us a tight smile. “I have Annalise Ryan and Seth Butler for you.”

Kristin Holt stood up from a low couch and crossed the room in three strides. The pop star turned music superstar looked tinier in person than she did on the television screen. I always thought it was a trick of the eye since Travis Brantley was such a large guy.

But no, Kristin Holt was tiny.

“I am so, so sorry for everything that’s happened,” Kristin gushed as she took Annalise’s hand in both of hers. “Travis and I were finishing up our tour and left all of this in the hands of our team. And, well, we shouldn’t have. They fucked up.”

“Yes they did,” Annalise said simply.

“Why did they ignore Coach Summer?” I didn’t feel the need to beat around the bush.

Kristin turned to me, not letting Annalise go. “I’m still sorting that out, but what I’ve ascertained so far is that a member of my team is good friends with Owen Montgomery. He hired Owen and didn’t want Owen fired. So he brushed off the complaints just like he ignored the rumors and negative feedback during the selection process.”

Another fucking friend. Owen had a network like no other. It was that hand-in-glove system that kept bottom-feeders like Montgomery in business year after year, no matter how shitty they behaved.

Kristin gave Annalise a tight smile. “Sit? I’ll explain everything.”

We settled onto the couch while Kristin pulled over a chair. I kept Annalise’s hand locked with mine. And I was glad for it because a moment later she squeezed it tighter and took a ragged breath. She was putting on her game face but the stress was getting to her.

Kristin gave us both a tight smile. “First off, Owen is still in jail but he will be released later today. His bail was set rather high, but it’s being posted by one of his many good friends.” She said that with a boat load of sarcasm.

I liked Kristin Holt.

“The man who hired Owen has been fired. Owen Montgomery never should have been hired in the first place. I wanted the best and gave that instruction to the team, but the part where I insisted that our documentarian be a woman was somehow forgotten.”

Annalise let out a slow breath. “A female filmmaker would be a more logical fit for this.”

“Exactly,” Kristin agreed with a nod. “What we’re doing here is important. Women’s sports have gained a lot of popularity over the last twenty years and we’re at an inflection point. I don’t want to document this just because it’s good publicity for the team. Telling our story is a way of reaching an audience we might otherwise take years to reach. Maybe even decades. This is all about growing our sport. Whoever tells that story for us needs to understand the nuances. The struggles. I’m not saying a man can’t do it. I want the best. Whoever that might be. I just happen to think it will be a woman. Besides, I prefer to hire women.”

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