Page 56 of Playboy Pitcher
“What the hell did you just say?”
Kyle elbows Tuck in the ribcage. “Ouch, fuck!” Rubbing his side, he gives me an apologetic smile and shrugs. “The guys talked in the locker room, Ben. She may own the team, but the coaches and Hoyt letting her talk shit on the field…” He shakes his head. “That’s taking it over the line.”
“And you think running to Ned Riggins is the answer?” I yell. I can’t help it. That asshole is the whole reason we lost all our vets in the first place.
“He got Roger to listen to him. Maybe he can do the same with his daughter.”
There’s no talking them out of it. I can see it in their eyes. While I licked my wounds on the field, they manned one hell of a defense against Willow.
I have to admit, even as I said my vows in a Georgia courthouse, I still questioned why the hell I was doing this. The idea of being a billionaire is appealing, but it’s not like I didn’t grow up surrounded by wealth. Money is nice, but it’s not everything.
The clincher was Willow’s hit to my Achilles’ heel.
My injury.
My future.
Baseball is the only thing that’s ever truly been mine. When the sports world hears the name LaCroix, there’s only one man that comes to mind.
Benson.
Not Hollis.
This is my world, and I’m the king. The player. The most eligible.
But a torn elbow ligament and a second Tommy John surgery later, and it all could be taken away. I could barely be a footnote in sports history.
But Willow’s offer gave me the chance to be more than a footnote. More than a has-been. As owner, I could rebuild this team. I could take them to the World Series.
And that would be my legacy.
But if Kyle and Tuck get Ned involved, who knows what Willow might do. She’ll be devastated, which will make her volatile. I don’t think she’d walk away from our deal and sell to Drake, but then again, I’ve only known the woman a few days.
The only thing I can do now is run interference.
Letting out a resigned sigh, I scratch the back of my head. “I’ll try.” When Kyle’s face breaks out into a grin, I add, “But no guarantees.”
“No guarantees about what?”
I swear to shit, I’m going to put a cowbell around this girl’s neck.
Turning around, I find Willow standing there, arms crossed and hip cocked. “Boss,” I greet her, pasting on a smile. “I thought you’d left for the day.”
“You thought wrong. Now, what aren’t you guaranteeing?”
I try to hold my smile when all I want to do is haul her over my shoulder and smack her ass for pushing my buttons all day. But I can’t. At least not here. And she sure as hell isn’t going to back off without an answer.
I think about what Kyle said about taking her out to show her a good time. It makes me think of the first night we met in West Palm Beach. That night was the most relaxed I’ve felt in months, maybe years.
Maybe a night out is exactly what we need.
“No guarantees that you’d say yes if I asked you out.”
Her eye twitches. “No.”
The guys laugh behind me, so I take hold of her arm and move her out of earshot. “It’s a bet, all right?” I whisper. “They sent me to calm your ass down, or they’re going above your head. So just smile and agree, darling. They’ll cooperate if you do.”
She glances up, her eyebrows drawing together in suspicion. “You’re lying.”
