Page 6 of Rookie Season
The line of people who want my attention at any given point would’ve blown my mind as a kid playing ball. Team commitments can pale in comparison to media, agents, publicists, and fans.
Being in the big leagues doesn’t mean I’m entitled to have women falling at my feet. But I’m heading toward rich, I’m not bad looking, and being fit is basically my job, so it happens.
Sierra looks at me as if I’m a pain in her ass, even after more than a year of knowing her.
“You genuinely don’t love Christmas?” I ask as I follow her inside and to the kitchen. Her lack of enthusiasm over the holiday only makes me more intrigued.
“It’s commercial and overblown,” she calls back.
“I’m not going to argue with you on the commercial part, but overblown? No way.” I set the box on the counter.
She rolls her eyes and sets the duffel on the counter next to the box.
In that moment, I make a decision. I’m not only going to win over the guys this weekend—I’ll win her over too.
“I hope I brought enough alcohol.” Sierra takes a quick head count, looking from the kitchen out over the open-concept main floor.
“Unless you’re banking on everyone getting their stomach pumped before the game.”
“Not happening. I’m responsible.”
“Maybe too responsible,” I tease, nudging her hip again with mine.
She arches her eyebrow.
A knock on the door has us all turning.
“Hi, friends!” A woman in a furry pink headband and matching parka is standing there with a gift basket as big as she is. “I wanted to bring you a welcome gift and make sure you have whatever you need.”
“Kodashian,” Brooke mouths to Sierra.
That’s what the girls call our female fans. I can’t remember how it started, but the name stuck.
The woman’s eyes settle on me and warm. “Ryan!” She claps. “Were you outside dressed like that? You must be frozen.” She hands the basket off to Miles, who’s come down the stairs in time to watch this exchange, and crosses to me. “You’re covered in tree.”
She giggles as she picks pieces of bark off my shirt. The sound doesn’t affect me like Sierra’s laugh, but I’m also not a complete dick.
“Uh, guys, this is Trista. She owns the cabin.”
When I reached out to book the place, she was only too happy to help. Maybe I should have emphasized how this was a team retreat and that we wanted privacy.
Brooke grabs a soda from the fridge, popping the top with relish.
I see Sierra start for the stairs with her bags. I start to call after her to say I’ll take them up for her, but our host stops me.
“You guys are going to have the best Christmas. What’s your plan?” Trista gushes.
“Decorating, games, cooking, gift exchange, some light karaoke.”
Groans go up.
Trista bites her lip. “You have to come skiing. There’s a hill down the road. Plus, the pond outside is cleared for skating. And don’t forget the hot tub.”
I definitely hadn’t. A warm soak that’s not in a too-small standard-sized tub is right up my alley.
“Normally, we’d put up a tree, but I wanted to check with you as to what you’d like,” Trista says. “We could order you one. Or you can cut one down yourselves.”
“Yeah?” The idea lights me up like a little kid.
