The Ace and The Assistant Read online

  Which is why a list is needed.

  Number one: Ross is your boss.

  This job may only be temporary but it’s important for me to remind myself that it is a job and Ross is my boss. I’ve always prided myself on being a hard worker and keeping things professional. Well, at least until last week.

  Number two: Ross is your friend.

  It was blatantly obvious our night together was something we both wanted—needed, even—but I also know neither of us wants to hurt our friendship.

  Which brings me to number three: If we are such good friends, why haven’t I been able to respond to the email he sent before he left for Spring Training?

  Because, even though he said he was leaving the ball in my court, I know I can’t admit to having any kind of feelings for him. That’s too risky. I can’t take the chance of him brushing it off as a one-night stand, which I’ve never had before, or a rebound fling. All of the logical explanations for what happened would crush me and I can’t have my heart broken by Ross.

  That would ruin everything—our professional relationship, our friendship, my long-lived crush, my love affair with the New Orleans Revelers… everything.

  Some grownup, you are, Casey Marie Carradine.

  I know I should write him back but what do I say? “Hey, Ross, things are going smoothly at your house. I’m able to get work done even though I can’t stop thinking about that time you put your man business inside my lady bits. Have a great day at Spring Training” just doesn’t seem right.

  And now, I’m afraid I’ve wasted too much time and made things weird and he’s probably given up on a response from me.

  But, maybe that’s what needs to happen. He obviously enjoyed sleeping with me but it doesn’t mean he wants a repeat or anything more than that. The guy has been single for less than a year; I’m sure he’s ready to play the field once the season starts, both literally and figuratively. So I need to pull up my big-girl panties—without thinking about Ross ripping them off—and move on.

  Coffee. Coffee first then, email.

  I close my laptop and walk downstairs to Charlotte’s kitchen. It’s been raining off and on all day, so the construction at Ross’s house was postponed until tomorrow. I decided to stay here for the day so I wouldn’t be tempted to put on one of Ross’s t-shirts and sleep in his bed, engulfing myself in his manly scent. I let myself do it once, the day after he left, but vowed to never let that happen again.

  Okay, maybe once a week, tops.

  As my coffee starts to brew, I take out my favorite mug and glance out the kitchen window. I love overcast weather like we have today but it makes me want to shuck all my responsibilities and everything on my to-do list and snuggle up on the couch with a thick book.

  Or a thick man.

  Like, Ross.

  Stop it, Casey!

  I swear, I’ve never had thoughts like this after sleeping with someone. Typically, once I’m done, I’m done. Maybe I’m reacting this way because it had been quite a while since I was with a man and I’d forgotten how good it could be. That can’t be true, though, because I didn’t know sex could even be that good until I was with Ross. How sad that I didn’t even know how unsatisfying my previous partners had been.

  The sound of Charlotte’s laughter coming from the living room pulls me out of my pity party so I quickly fix my coffee and head her way. Spending time with my big sister is exactly what I need to get me out of my funk.

  “Oh, my god, Bo. You better be wearing sunscreen every day. A sunburned head is no laughing matter,” Charlotte says in between giggles.

  “Excuse me, your sister is in the room. Please stop all dirty talk immediately,” I warn.

  Charlotte only laughs harder and waves me over. “Come say hi to Bo.”

  I hesitantly walk over to the couch and stand behind my sister so I can look at her laptop screen over her shoulder. It takes a moment for my brain to catch up with what my wide eyes are seeing. “Bo Bennet, what the fudge happened to your hair? You’re completely bald!”

  “Hey, Casey,” Bo greets me. “It’s a Reveler’s Spring Training tradition for every team member to shave their head. Don’t worry, it’s usually grown back in by the time the first game rolls around.”

  “That’s... crazy,” I say, still in shock over his nonexistent hair. “But it actually doesn’t look bad. I just wasn’t expecting it. Be glad you have a nice, smooth head,” I add, before realizing how that sounds and wanting to take the words back.

  Then I hear a ruckus of laughter coming from the other end.

  “Wait,” I say, my cheeks flushing pink. “Where are you?”

  Bo tries to hide his amusement but fails. “Clubhouse.”

  At this, Charlotte falls over on the couch, dying. “This is FaceTime gold.”

  “Shut up,” I tell her, picking up a pillow and whacking her upside the head. “You know what I meant. You all knew what I meant… get your heads out of the gutter.” My voice gets louder when I get flustered, and I’m totally flustered, especially when I see the person I’ve been avoiding for the past week walk into view.

  “You should really stop talking about heads,” Charlotte mutters, still laughing.

  Dear, Lord, take me now.

  Ross seems to be frozen behind Bo and I wish I could zoom in on his face, because I can’t tell if the look he’s giving me is angry or hot or both. To be honest, I’d be okay with either. Anything other than indifference. That would hurt too much.

  What I do know is, with or without hair, he’s still the best looking man I’ve ever seen.

  Trying not to be too obvious, I wait until Bo and Charlotte start talking about some television show they’ve been binging before I lift my hand and give Ross a quick wave. His eyes seem to soften minutely but it’s enough of a change for me to notice.

  And it’s enough that it makes me wish I hadn’t put off writing that email for so long.

  Is it weird to miss someone who’s supposed to be just a friend… and your boss?

  Leaning over, I give Charlotte a big, sloppy kiss on her cheek. “I have some work to do but I’ll be back down later,” I say, smiling at the camera. Deciding to lean into my embarrassment, I wave at the camera. “Bye, Bo! Take care of your head. Don’t want to get a nasty burn.”

  Taking one last glance at Ross, who’s still hovering in the background of Bo’s FaceTime call, I give him a small smile before jogging back upstairs.

  Chapter 7

  Ross

  When Casey walks away, so do I, heading immediately for my locker. Since we’re finished for today, I grab my bag and go straight to my rental car. Once I’m inside and the A/C is blowing, I turn my phone on and open my email.

  There’s still no response from Casey.

  I’ve given her an entire week to reply, but nothing.

  Complete radio silence.

  Now that I’ve seen her, the pull I’ve been feeling is even stronger. Unable to stop myself, I open up a new email.

  Subject: Talk to me

  Just making sure you’re okay… we’re okay… everything’s okay.

  Ross

  It’s short and sweet, but I need to know I didn’t fuck everything up.

  When my notifications immediately go off, my heart speeds up like I’m still doing drills. Her ears must’ve been burning, or whatever is supposed to happen when someone is thinking about you, because sure enough, there’s a response to my original email waiting to be read.

  Subject: re: Hello

  Ross,

  First, I’m sorry for taking so long to reply to your email. That’s really unlike me. I’m typically a take-care-of-business kind of person. But our night together kind of threw me for a loop and it took me a few days to wrap my mind around it. Actually, I’m still working on that.

  I also feel like I should apologize even though I don’t regret it either. The reason for my early morning walk of shame was just that…a walk of shame. I felt like that kiss I initiated started everything and that m
aybe I took advantage of you and your situation. I know you said in your email that you enjoyed it…or at least that’s what I’m taking from your “best sex” line…but my head still says we shouldn’t have done what we did.

  I’d never want to do anything to jeopardize our friendship.

  You’re also technically my boss…

  Speaking of that, everything is going smoothly. The remodel has been delayed a little due to the rain, but the contractors have promised me we’re still on schedule and the remodel should be complete by the time you’re back from Spring Training.

  How’s ST going? Dominating the mound?

  Wait, did that sound dirty? Seems as though I’m good at that today.

  To answer your second email…I’m okay, we’re okay, everything is okay.

  Casey

  The relief I feel due to a simple email is ridiculous, but damn it, I can’t help it. The not knowing has been killing me. I realize she could totally be bullshitting me right now and lying about everything being okay, but Casey isn’t typically a bullshitter. She’s honest as the day is long.

  It’s one of the many things I like about her. Admire about her. For someone so young, she has integrity and a great work ethic, aside from banging her boss.

  That makes me smirk and think about all the things I’d love to do to her right now.

  Shit.

  I should’ve known one night with Casey wouldn’t get her out of my head. If anything, it only made me think of her and want her more.

  Quickly, I type out a reply.

  Subject: re: re: Talk to me

  Just to clear things up…

  You didn’t take advantage of me. If anything, I’m the employer and you’re my employee, so I was the one taking advantage of you. But I have to warn you, the HR department is shit.

  I enjoyed it. Immensely.

  Now that we’ve deduced that we were two consenting adults, let’s forget about the regrets. My only regret is that we won’t get a chance to do it again for the next five weeks.

  I’m glad to hear everything is going well on the homefront. The contractor emailed me to tell me they’ll be working a Saturday or two to make up for the rain delays. Don’t feel like you have to be there on the weekends. They have the code to the gate and keys to the guest house.

  How’s everything else going? Other than taking care of my shit, what’s a day in the life of Casey Carradine like?

  Ross

  P.S. I’ve heard I’m pretty good on the mound. ;)

  Just as I hit send there’s a loud bang on the hood of my rental car. Glancing up, I see Bo and Mack standing there with their arms crossed over their chests. Once they have my attention, they walk around to the driver’s side and motion for me to roll the window down.

  “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Mack asks, bracing his arm on the door as he leans in and checks the backseat like he’s going to find something or someone. “You hauled ass like your pants were on fire. Gotta hot date we don’t know about?”

  Squinting into the hot Florida sun, I look up at them. “Just ready for some A/C and a steak.”

  “Oh, no,” Bo says, reaching for the door handle. “You’re not going back to the hotel room before dark again tonight.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  Locking the doors, I reach for the button to roll up the windows, but Bo beats me to the punch and reaches his arm through to pop the locks, and then the door is open. “Out.”

  With a loud huff, I reluctantly step out of the car. “Didn’t your mama teach you to respect your elders?”

  “That’s what we’re doing,” Mack says, slapping my back. “Showing our respect by not letting you forget how to have a little fun.”

  “You’ve been there for us and now we’re here for you,” Bo says, his face going a little more serious than I’ve seen it in a while. Well, since the day he and Charlotte showed up at my house for their intervention.

  He’s a good friend, so is Mack, which is why I let them win. I abandon my original plan of dinner to-go and another night alone in my hotel room, and I follow them to Mack’s SUV.

  Ten minutes later, we’re all sitting around a table, with a few of our other teammates, in the back of Shortie’s, a pub we frequent often when we’re at Spring Training. I’m usually the one enforcing these evenings on rookies and now, it’s me being forced into having a little fun.

  Crazy how things change.

  That blindsided feeling creeps back up on me as I sip my beer.

  “I’m going to give you back a little of your own advice,” Bo says, tossing a peanut in the air and catching it in his mouth. “You need to get laid.”

  Smirking, I shake my head and take another drink of beer to keep from saying something I’d regret. Not that I’m ashamed of what Casey and I did. I was being honest with her when I said we don’t have anything to be ashamed of. But Bo is basically her brother-in-law and I don’t know how he’d respond to knowing I had sex with his girlfriend’s little sister. Besides, I’ve never been one to talk about what happens behind closed doors… or on staircases... or in hallways.

  God, just thinking about it, Casey’s name conjures up images that make my body respond.

  Thank goodness for this table hiding my dick.

  I’d hate to have to explain why I’m now sporting a stiffy.

  “Maybe he already has,” Mack says with a cocked eyebrow. “I mean, have you seen the heat he’s been throwing?” He pops a peanut into his mouth, shaking his head. “Not gonna lie, after the end of last season, I was worried, but man… you’re back.”

  I’m back.

  He’s right, I have been throwing some good shit, better than I expected, if I’m being honest. I’m not sure what to attribute it to. Maybe it’s the solitude I allowed myself in the off-season? Maybe it was working relentlessly on my pitches?

  Therapy, Bo and Charlotte’s intervention, getting my affairs in order, letting shit go…all of those things definitely attributed to my mental clarity and my ability to be the ace pitcher I’ve worked so hard to be.

  But somewhere in the back of my mind, one word echoes: Casey.

  Casey.

  Casey.

  Casey.

  She wasn’t planned or prescribed and maybe that’s what makes her so perfect. I’ve always been a sucker for spontaneity and serendipity. Some of the best things in my life have simply dropped in my lap. Take baseball for instance, I’m not a kid of a coach or ex-pro ballplayer.

  My parents let me play every sport under the sun. They never pushed me to excel at something, but merely let me explore until I found something that stuck. Crazy enough, baseball was the last sport I tried and I didn’t even pick up a bat and ball until I was in junior high. Most of the boys on my first team had played together since little league. But not me, I stepped on the field and gravitated toward the mound. The rest was history.

  I graduated from a small high school who’d never had a player go to a D-1 school until me. A scout was in my area on his way to another high school when he stopped into a convenience store in my town and overheard people talking about my last home game and how they can’t believe I hadn’t been picked up by a college yet.

  Again, the rest was history.

  Casey feels like another one of those moments, like she just dropped into my lap, literally and figuratively.

  Even if she’s just here for a season—someone to remind me of what it feels like to want someone and be wanted in return—I’m glad she’s here… or there, rather. And I’m hoping we’ll be able to pick things up where we left off when I get back.

  Chapter 8

  Casey

  Standing on Ross’s front porch, I wave to Phil as he drives out of the gate. He’s the guy who’s doing most of the remodel on the guest house and he’s super nice. He’s also probably the same age as my dad and as round as he is tall. We’ve become fast friends over the past two weeks.

  I bring him coffee every morning.

  He shares his h
omemade cookies his wife sends with him for lunch.

  It’s a pretty sweet deal.

  When my phone rings from my back pocket, I pull it out to see Ross’s name flash on the screen.

  “Hello?” I answer, trying not to sound as breathy as he makes me feel.

  “Hello,” he replies in his deep, smooth voice that shoots straight to my core.

  Clearing my throat, I turn to walk back inside and pretend like I’m unaffected. “Hey, Ross. So, uh, how’s Spring Training going?”

  Stupid question, Casey.

  Slapping my forehead, I lean against the counter. I already know the answer to this. Thanks to the dozens of emails we’ve exchanged over the past two weeks, I know a lot about Ross Davies, including how Spring Training is going. He just gave me a full rundown last night.

  “Good,” he says, drawing out his response with a chuckle. He’s onto me, I know it, but thankfully, he lets my awkwardness slide. “Just wanted to call and see if you’d do me a favor.”

  His tone shifts when he mentions me doing him a favor, like he hates asking. I want to tell him I’d do anything for him, but that might sound desperate.

  And if he’s thinking sexual favors, I’m more than happy to oblige.

  “Sure.” The pitch of my voice rises and I clear my throat and try again. “I mean, of course, I am your employee, so whatever you need…”

  He sighs and I can almost see him running a hand over his now-bald head.

  I’d love to do that for him.

  “I hate even asking, but I kind of haven’t hired a publicist. My agent handles most of those duties out of the kindness of his heart, but he’s tied up and I need someone to coordinate a few interviews for when I’m back in town, mostly local stuff…”

  He’s rambling and it’s adorable. “No problem,” I tell him, unable to hide my smile when he sighs again, this time in relief. “I’m well versed in being a stand-in publicist. Forward any emails my way and I’ll field them and get everything scheduled.”

  “I owe you,” he says. “More than what I pay you.”