Page 43 of The Sweet Spot

Collaborations? Like physically? Damn, I'd like to collaborate with Whit a hell of a lot more. Preferably every waking hour, if it were possible. But would that be something Whit is into?

I turn to look down at Whit, and although our eyes catch, she leans toward the mic to answer for us. “Well, next year will be a pivotal year for us, as we’ll need to come back and defend our title.”

My brain goes a little lightheaded and my dick stirs because she wants to come back.

Fuck. Yes.

“Ah, we’d love to have you back, Whit.”

Wouldn’t we just?

“Sienna, we need to wrap it up and move to Max and Jess for the next segment,” her producer says, and she nods. “Thank you both for your time, and congratulations on the win. See you later, JB.” She scans the crowd until she finds Max. “Let’s get this over with,” she mutters to herself as she walks past.

The cameras drop as Sienna leaves, but my hand doesn’t. Frankly, the little hip dip Whit has fits my palm perfectly, and it likes having a little resting place.

Resting place. Pfft. That sounds like I want to die. That’s so far beyond the truth. I am dying to touch her again, though.

Shut up, brain.

Without my buy in, Whit steps out of my hold, places the trophy on the table at the side, and clears her throat. “Are you seeing her?”

“Seeing who?”

Whit tilts her head in Sienna’s direction, who’s already started her interview with Jess and Max.

“Sienna?” I ask with my brows raised.

Whit’s cheeks heat the tiniest fraction. “Yeah. I don’t know, she just looked a little cozy with you,” she admits, but doesn’t look at me. “It would make sense. She’s your on-field reporter, right? Knows baseball, travels the country with you, is beautiful...”

My, my. Is Whit Marlow jealous of our on-field reporter?

She closes her eyes and shakes her head. “It would be fine.”

Her tone does not suggest it would, in fact, be fine.

“I get it. You’re a guy who has needs, and she’s around. I assume you’re not serious, considering everything that happened—”

She doesn’t finish the sentence, and honestly, I probably should’ve stopped her a long time ago, but there’s something about watching Whit fight her feelings that gets my dick a little hard.

Just three days ago, I was falling over my words with her. Now, it’s her.

“I’m not interested in Sienna.”

“Y-you aren’t?”

The crowd is thinning now, the caddies are packing up, and the camera crew are migrating toward the clubhouse, so I decide to take this up a notch.

I step closer. She doesn’t step back.

“Nah.” I point toward Sienna. She’s walking away from Max and Jess, her head shaking. “In fact, I’m pretty sure there’s something going on with her and Max, though.”

“Really?” Her voice rises several octaves as she follows my gaze. “She looks at him like she hates him.”

I shrug. “It's the same way you looked at me when I caught your ball two days ago.” Then, I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her in. “And look at us now.”

She groans and tries to push me away with her hand on my chest, but instead of letting it go, I grab it and intertwine our fingers.

She looks at our hands, giving our connection a soft smile.