The Ace and The Assistant Read online

  You can do this.

  And, yes, it was totally normal to change your outfit six times before leaving the house.

  Ha.

  You know what else is totally normal? Talking to yourself in said friend’s driveway. Totally normal.

  Do not overthink this.

  “Casey? Everything all right?”

  I look out of my window and see The Ross Davies standing next to my car, watching me. At least, I think it’s Ross Davies. He looks very different from the last time I saw him. His hair has grown out and the beard he’s sporting is looking pretty wild but he still has those bright green eyes that always seem to look straight into my soul. It’s not a bad look on him; it’s just… different. I could work with it, no problem.

  No, you can’t, Casey. You are working for him, not with him. Get your head on straight.

  I need to start making a list of all the ways I’ll be making Charlotte pay for making me do this.

  Number one: season tickets to watch the Saints play football since I’ll never be able to watch another Revelers’ game after working for Ross.

  Grabbing my bag, I finally open the door of my car and step out to meet Ross. “Hey, Ross. I hear you need a kick in the nads to get ready for the new season and I’m supposed to be the girl to do it.”

  A strange noise seems to come from the back of his throat but he coughs to hide it. Maybe I should’ve softened my greeting but I have to admit I like being able to knock Ross down a peg or two. I think that’s what made us fast friends, I didn’t handle him with kid gloves, or celebrity gloves, and I never pull my punches.

  “You heard right,” he answers while peering down at me. “Thank you for helping me out. I really do appreciate it.”

  The sincerity in his voice catches me off guard and for the first time, I see the changes in him. Not just his looks, but beneath the surface too. Under the dark circles framing his green eyes, his usually chiseled face looks a bit thinner, there’s somberness, and struggle seeping from his pores. Even his posture seems beaten down.

  Not gonna lie, my heart breaks for him.

  “Let’s go inside and talk.” Ross stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jeans and nods toward the house as he starts walking. I take a second to get my head on straight before jogging to catch up with him on the porch.

  I can do this.

  “Brace yourself,” he warns. “It’s not pretty in here.”

  I give him a small, reassuring smile before he lets out a deep breath and opens the door, holding it to allow me to enter first. The foyer appears normal enough but when I step into the living room, I have to stifle a gasp. I’ve been to Ross’s house twice, and both times, it looked like something out of a magazine spread for Better Homes and Gardens.

  That is not the case today.

  Every surface has something on it—mail, newspapers, takeout containers, bottles, cans. Basically, it looks like he just gave up, which makes me even sadder for him but also angry he hasn’t asked for help until now.

  “Judas Priest, you weren’t kidding, were you?” I blurt out.

  Ross snickers and when I turn to face him, he’s looking down at his feet while rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell him, pressing my lips together. “I have a bad habit of being brutally honest when it’s not necessarily appropriate.”

  “You don’t have to apologize,” he says. “I know it’s a mess. I was laughing at your word choice. I forgot how you don’t say real cuss words.”

  My cheeks turn pink, but I shrug it off. “I think my version of expletives is more creative and fun.”

  When I glance over at him, our eyes meet and for a second, I’m held hostage by the moment.

  Maybe it’s his vulnerability or the way he’s letting me see a side of him no one else is privy to? Or maybe it’s the fact this is the first time we’ve ever truly been alone together? Regardless, there’s something in the air between us. It might just be me and my tiny, baby crush, but I feel it.

  “I agree. I’m glad you haven’t changed, Casey.”

  Those words and the way he’s staring at me when he says them almost have me cussing for real.

  Almost.

  Clearing my throat, I break our eye contact and walk into the kitchen, needing to put some distance between us and a chance to take a deep breath without my lungs being full of his intoxicating scent. Thankfully, it’s not completely disgusting. The sink is empty, but the counters are just as cluttered and unorganized as the living room.

  Who knew a professional baseball player would have so many papers and pieces of mail? And, if the kitchen and living room look the way they do, I can only imagine how bad his actual office looks.

  When I turn back to face him, he’s leaning against the wall, staring at a stack of papers. He looks so lost and overwhelmed, nothing like the powerful pitcher and team leader I know him to be… or what his team expects him to be.

  That thought gives me the strength I need to power through my feelings and remember what I’m here to do.

  “It’s really not that bad,” I say. “I’ve seen much worse at frat houses, so not all hope is lost.” I give him a genuine smile, hoping it reassures him. When he still doesn’t look convinced, I continue. “Ross, I can do this. Let me help you.”

  He sighs, leaning against the entry to the kitchen as I do the same on the counter beside the stove. Looking at him, I’m once again hit in the face with his current condition. He’s tired, that’s obvious. But there’s more to it. When I first met Ross, or even before we were formally introduced and I just knew him as the ace pitcher for the New Orleans Revelers, he was the most confident person I’d ever seen. It wasn’t cockiness, like a lot of professional athletes possess, it was just this air of assuredness. Mentally, I’d always placed Ross at the top of the list of people I’d call in a crisis.

  Steady.

  Strong.

  Sexy.

  All of those qualities are still there, but it’s buried under defeat and sadness.

  I hate she did that to him.

  “How does five grand a week sound?” Ross asks, pulling me out of my thoughts.

  My brows furrow in confusion, unsure of what he’s referring to. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

  I must have missed something.

  “I could probably do six…” he counters, squinting his face up as if he’s uncomfortable.

  “For what?” Maybe this has to do with the remodel Charlotte mentioned.

  He cocks his head in confusion. “To pay you… for you to work for me…” He trails off and I realize then what he’s referring to and nearly choke on air.

  “Five grand?” I ask incredulously. “Are you flipping kidding me?” Scoffing, I push off the island and walk over to the large pile of mail that’s haphazardly strewn about. Picking some up, I begin to sort the envelopes into piles. “If I had to guess, you don’t have any idea what has and hasn’t been paid. Charlotte mentioned an ongoing remodel that needs to be completed. And I’m sure you have new bills coming in due to your divorce.”

  Stopping, I slap an envelope from an attorney on top of the growing pile of people demanding Ross Davies’ money. “Does that sound about right?”

  His hand reaches back and squeezes his neck as he turns his eyes to the ceiling. I know this has to be uncomfortable for him, but if I’m going to work for him and be effective at my job, we’re going to have to get past the awkwardness of it all pretty quick.

  The team leaves for Spring Training in a week, so we don’t have much time to figure all this out so I can put his life back in order while he’s gone.

  “Sounds about right,” Ross finally says, bringing his eyes back to mine.

  Tucking loose strands of hair behind my ears, I take a deep breath. “Let’s say a thousand dollars a week,” I tell him, even though that still feels like highway robbery. I’d do it for free.

  The bottom line is—tiny, baby crush aside—I really like him.
/>   Not the ace pitcher or magazine cover model.

  Not the person other people idolize.

  I like the guy who comes over and has pizza nights and crashes our family dinners.

  I like the guy who donates his time to worthy causes and never uses it as a publicity stunt.

  I like the guy who goes above and beyond for his friends.

  I’ve seen it, been on the receiving end of it, and would like to return the favor.

  “I would say I’d do it for free,” I continue. “But I know you and I know you won’t let me do that. And if I don’t take this job you probably won’t hire anyone else, which means your life will continue to crumble around you. And as a friend, I can’t let that happen.”

  For good measure, I tack on, “Besides, we need a good season and that means having you at your best.”

  That gets a small smile from him which gives me hope.

  “What do you say?”

  Eventually, his eyes meet mine and we enter into one of those raw, real moments that make my stomach do weird things and my palms start to sweat.

  “It’s a deal.”

  Chapter 3

  Ross

  Walking downstairs, I scrub a hand over my face and through my beard. Typically, it’s not this long. I always let my hair grow during the off-season, but it’s definitely a bit out of control, even for me, which is basically my life right now.

  But hopefully not for much longer. After mine and Casey’s meeting, I could feel the black cloud that’s been hanging over me for the past six months start to dissipate. Just her presence alone brought with it a sense of peace I haven’t had in a really long time.

  I hate to admit it, but if Bo and Charlotte hadn’t staged their intervention, I’d probably still be throwing balls in my backyard while the rest of my life deteriorates.

  Giving help is second nature. I’m used to being the one in the driver’s seat, the one who’s leading and guiding others, but this current state I’m in is foreign and unwelcome, which is probably why I’m having such a hard time digging myself out.

  Most mornings, I head straight to my home gym and work out. It helps release all the pent-up energy and tension I’ve been carrying around and it’s the only way to quiet the constant stream of thoughts that bombard me.

  But this morning, Casey Carradine is coming here for her first day on the job.

  I’m still trying to wrap my brain around her working for me and figure out how I feel about it.

  Sure, she’s more than capable and she’s a close enough friend that I trust her with my personal information. She’s used to handling the affairs of someone who lives in the spotlight. Being the younger sister of Lola Carradine, she’s seen it all.

  She’s lived her entire life in the shadow of a celebrity. Some people might assume she’s jaded or jealous, but I know she’s neither of those things. Casey is the brightest ray of sunshine I’ve ever seen. She’s quirky and fun and an all-around good person.

  So, why am I so fucking nervous?

  I’ve been asking myself that question since I agreed to her terms and we shook on an agreement, but I can’t quite put my finger on what has me on edge.

  My lawyer sent over some standard paperwork yesterday for her to sign, mainly an NDA. Not that I think we need one, but Jason, my lawyer, does, and since I know Casey won’t think anything of it, I agreed.

  NDA aside, I trust her.

  Maybe I’m nervous because I’m finally doing something—taking action, moving forward? Maybe it’s because this is the first step in regaining control of my life? I don’t know. Regardless of the nerves, the thought of her being around and helping me work through my shit makes me the happiest I’ve felt in a long time. So, I’m going to embrace it.

  As I start the coffee pot, I pop open my laptop and check my emails.

  To the dismay of everyone around me, I hate text messages. Call me old school, but I prefer a good, old-fashioned phone call or an email. Being a pitcher, I have great hand-eye coordination, so I don’t think it has anything to do with that. But I hate the way text messages replace human interaction, so if I can avoid them, I do.

  After deleting all the junk, I’m left with an email from Heath, my agent, who also fills a PR/manager role when needed, reminding me about the upcoming Spring Training schedule, and another from Jason, reminding me to have Casey sign the documents before I hand over any personal information.

  I would roll my eyes at their insistent reminding, but I realize I’ve given them reason to doubt my abilities to take care of business. The old Ross wouldn’t need double reminders.

  Fighting back the annoyance, I continue through my emails until I come to one from ccarradine0607.

  It’s short and to the point.

  Ross,

  I know you hate text messages and I’m not going to lie, that’s a bit lame, but you’re the boss, so if it’s emails you want, it’s emails you’ll get.

  Just letting you know I was able to call in a favor and I have our cleaning people coming to your house tomorrow morning. I should beat them there, but just in case, I wanted to give you a heads up. Don’t worry, they’ve been thoroughly vetted. If Charlotte trusts them in her studio, you know they’re on the up and up.

  See you in the morning.

  Casey

  I smile to myself, for what might be the first time in six months. That girl doesn’t mess around.

  Girl? No, definitely a woman. She might be younger than me, but I’m not blind or an idiot. I can see her for what she is—gorgeous, confident, smart… Did I mention sexy as hell? Yeah, that.

  Maybe I pushed that thought out of my mind for the majority of the time I’ve known Casey because I was a married man and even though Felicia tried to accuse me of cheating, I’ve never laid a finger on another woman or let my eyes wander.

  I’m as loyal as they come. It’s ingrained so deeply into my DNA I don’t know how to be anything different, which is why this divorce has hit me so hard.

  You know that saying about how it’s hard to teach an old dog new tricks? I might not be old, although thirty-one isn’t a spring chicken by baseball standards, but I did spend almost a decade loving Felicia and being committed to her.

  Even when things weren’t great between us, I made it my mission in life to do whatever I could to make our marriage better. There were times I knew it would be easier to give up, but I’d made a vow to her and I was going to see it through to the end.

  Now that she’s not a part of my life, I’m struggling to retrain my brain and my heart to do something new. It’s not that I’m still in love with her. Actually, I might’ve fallen out of love a while ago. But the loyalty is harder to break.

  However, the more she shows her true colors, the easier it is, but it still doesn’t feel good.

  Neither do the feelings of betrayal or abandonment.

  The smell of coffee pulls me out of my thoughts and I grab a mug and fill it up. I need to get my head on straight before Casey shows up. I’ve spent long enough wallowing and feeling sorry for myself. Spring Training is almost here and I refuse to be the weak link in our lineup this season.

  Speaking of loyalty, my team needs me.

  “Knock, knock,” a voice from the foyer calls out.

  “In the kitchen,” I call back, pulling out another mug and filling it with coffee.

  Casey’s smile brightens up the whole room when she walks in.

  With her hair in a ponytail and her face free of makeup, she’s definitely playing up the little sister vibe, but it does nothing to distract me from noticing her.

  She’s stunning.

  And holy fuck, she’s wearing yoga pants.

  Clearing my throat, I turn my back on her and walk to the fridge. “How do you take your coffee?”

  “Milk, no sugar,” she says, cheerfully, unbeknownst to my inner turmoil or my dick that decided to wake up and make his presence known.

  It’s been a while.

  Honestly, I can’t remember t
he last time I had a visceral reaction to a woman who wasn’t my wife.

  Ex-wife.

  And even then… it’s been a while.

  “Did you get my email about the cleaning service?”

  I turn to see her pulling out a binder from her bag. After she takes out a pencil and highlighter, she perches her sweet little yoga pant-covered ass on one of the bar stools. Taking a cleansing breath, I reign in my reactions toward her and slide the mug and milk across the counter.

  “I did.” My reply is clipped but she has my head in a jumbled mess and I’m not quite sure what to make of it. It’s a bit unsettling and that’s counterproductive to what I was going for. What happened to that sense of peace and calm I felt after our meeting yesterday? Since when do I react this way to Casey?

  Fuck.

  Maybe this was a bad idea.

  “Is that okay?” Casey asks hesitantly. “Because if you’d rather me call someone else, it’s not too late to cancel. But they’ll be here in the next hour, so—”

  “It’s fine,” I say, cutting her off and feeling bad about it. When I turn to face her, I can see the questions piling up on her gorgeous face. Before she has a chance to ask, I try to cover up my mood and smooth the waters. “Sorry, I slept like shit and this is my first cup of coffee.”

  The crease between her eyebrows relaxes and she offers me a small smile. “It’s okay. I know this is probably weird for you and you’ve been dealing with a lot. But that’s why I’m here.” Her shoulders rise and fall as she inhales and exhales. “I just want to help and I realize you’re a private person, so if I overstep my boundaries, just tell me. I won’t push.”

  “I know all of that,” I assure her. “And I’m happy you’re here. But you’re right, I am a private person and I really hate asking for help, so this is difficult for me.” It’s not the only thing that’s hard right now, I think to myself, but continue. “Thank you for calling in a favor with the cleaning service. I know I’ll feel better once this place is back in order and that’s the first step.”

  Casey smiles, reaching across the counter and placing her small hand on mine. “Good, I’m glad we got all of that out of the way.” Sitting up straight, she pulls her hand back and I immediately miss the warmth. Brushing a stray piece of her blonde hair behind her ear, she opens the binder up and flips a few pages to an empty calendar. “Now, let’s start with your schedule and any dates I need to know. Then, we’ll work on the mounds of mail and any issues that entails.”