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I wasn’t aware, but when I bought the place, three of the four units were rented out to teammates. Leland Locke rents the far end unit. Blaze Bennett Sr. had already arranged to have the lease changed over to his son, but Jr. has yet to move in. The old owner let me know they were rarely there, but their rent checks always were. I only lost one tenant—the owner’s daughter—and I left the townhouse next to me open in hopes that Mom and Jillian would make it their home away from home. But my townhouse has four bedrooms, and yesterday, when Jillian rolled in, she wasn’t about staying next door. Mom said the same thing when she called. I shot AJ a message last night to let him know they could move in if they still wanted to. He was stoked to move closer to Revolutionary Field.
But fuck all that. I’m riding a victory wave into O’Donnell’s after we squeaked out a one-run win. I’m also pretty damn impressed with having two RBIs in the last inning. But that’s not the only reason my whole body feels like it’s buzzing. I’m here to confirm the redhead in the stands with Pope’s wife is my redhead—shit, I mean, my neighbor. Reality? One and the same.
I glance at my phone to see if Hudson replied to my text, letting him know where I am so the fam can meet up with me if they want.
Hudson
OTW to ya, champ.
I scan the bar and see Pope. “Perfect.”
Time to get that confirmation, I think as I make my way through the bar slowly. Every step I seem to make, I get stopped by Jags fans congratulating me on the win with handshakes, fist bumps, and a few selfie requests from women who are dressed to impress.
Thankfully, Turner is standing amongst the group, too. Not that Pope is unapproachable, but we’re not as tight off the field as Turner and I are, which makes it easier to approach them without making it completely obvious that I’m here for one reason.
Her.
As I get closer, he sees me and immediately throws his head back in laughter. I watch a hand shove him, which makes him laugh harder, and I wonder if he’s talking with Cecilia. The closer I get, the clearer I see it’s her friend, Francesca—Hudson told me their names.
I glance around and see the other women. Fawna is behind the bar with an older man, whose arm is around her. I won’t even try to unpack that.
None of my business, anyway. Moving on.
Pope steps to the side, and so does the guy standing beside him. That’s when I see red curls hanging out of the back of a Jags hat with Pope’s name and number embroidered on the back. And, yeah, a jersey, too. It’s got me feeling some sort of way.
Turner leans on the bar and calls to Fawna, “Can I get the rookie a drink?”
CeCe’s back straightens, telling me she now knows I’m here.
“What will you have?” Fawna asks.
I tear my eyes away from Cecilia and look up at the specials board. “Any light ale will work. Next round’s on me. Thanks, Fawna.”
Pope’s lips twist up. “First regular-season game was tight, Hart.”
“When I’m playing between two pros, there’s no room for anything else.”
Locke lifts his chin, a confirmation he heard my compliment.
I shake my head. “By the end of the week, I’m going to have a bruised palm if you keep throwing like you do.”
His lips twitch up just a bit, and I hope he heeds my advice. I know the man pitched at the beginning of his career with the Sox then moved to centerfield when he signed with San Fran. The man is used to throwing hard and long, so when I say my palm may be bruised, it’s no joke.
I grab my drink and round the table since Cecilia is yet to acknowledge me. When I belly up to the table directly across from her, she turns in her seat and starts talking to the blonde, who looks too much like her to be anyone other than her sister, who’s visiting.
When the blonde glances at me, I smile and reach out my hand. “You must be Cecilia’s sister. I’m Roman, the next-door neighbor.”
Her smile broadens as she stretches out her hand. “I’m Chloe. It is a pleasure to meet you. CeCe didn’t tell me her neighbor played for the Jags.”
“Not sure she actually knew,” I respond with the truth.
Cecilia shakes her head. “Nope. Didn’t know. Just met him when his pup was trying to poop in my yard.”
“Actually, we met at a concert the night before,” I clarify.
“Is that so?” Chloe asks, slowly turning to face Cecilia, whose face is now turning a shade of red that might require an extinguisher.
Not gonna lie, I kind of feel like shit about that. Kind of because if she told her sister about me at the concert, that kiss affected her as much as it did me.
