Page 107 of Elevator Pitch

“Whatever that was when I entered your house.”

“Good sex?” His eyes sparkle.

“Well, there was that, too, but something else was on your mind first.” And unfortunately, I don’t think it was me. Do I feel used for sex? Used as a means of distraction? Not really, but I’m still a little unsettled by the rapidness of what happened. “But something else seems like it’s bothering you.”

Ross shuts off the water and I shiver, my body sensing what my head hasn’t caught up to yet. Is he going to break up with me? After what just happened, I don’t want to question him, but he’s clearly upset by something.

He pops open the shower door and reaches for a towel before rubbing it over my hair and swiping down my body then wrapping the thick material around me. He grabs his own towel, and strokes down his chest before wrapping it around his waist, then runs his hand over his hair.

“Let’s talk in my room.”

“That sounds ominous.” My stomach drops again, a nauseous slosh rumbling around within me.

Ross leads me to his bedroom attached to the ensuite bathroom and rifles through a drawer, presenting me with a T-shirt. The soft white material does nothing to comfort the unease tickling up my spine. Ross is suddenly pensive.

I climb up on the edge of his bed, desperate to pull the thick duvet over my legs and curl into the covers as a means to hide.

Ross tugs on the joggers he’d been wearing when I entered his house, and he faces me.

“I don’t think I’m a very good coach.”

“What?” The tension in my shoulders lessens. “Why would you say that?”

“Valdez and Adler got into after the game today. In the tunnel.”

“Why?” I sit up straighter.

“Valdez made a crack about Adler’s wife.”

“Bolan Adler? The new catcher? I didn’t know he was married.” And I don’t know why I’m speaking in questions.

“They were married before the season started. Rather spontaneously.”

“Is she pregnant?”

Ross’s brows lift. “I hadn’t even thought of that, but I don’t think so.” He pauses like he’s considering what I’ve asked. “Either way, Romero called Ruth a mouse, and Bolan reacted. Then Romero had to take it a step further suggesting he was more man than Bolan in bed.”

“What the heck? Men are so ridiculous.”

“Yeah, Adler did not appreciate either comment. Pinned Valdez to the wall like he was a swatted fly.”

I chuckle softly at the image. “How does any of that make you a bad coach?”

Ross flings his arms out to the side before slipping his hands into his jogger pockets. “Because my players are always fighting with each other.”

I watch Ross a second, taking in his sunken shoulders and lowered head. He isn’t a bad coach. In fact, the Anchors are having one of the best seasons they’ve had since he played for the team nearly ten years ago. He’s doing something right.

“Did your boys fight as kids?”

He chuckles bitterly. “All the time. They’re so different from one another.”

“It’s no different on a team. You have all these diverse temperaments and backgrounds. Think about it. Your boys came from the same house, and they are vastly different from each other, right? Which makes them unique.”

I take a deep breath. “These men are like your children. Same house, same rules. But they aren’t your children. You’re in charge of them, but not their emotions. Not their pasts. Not their personalities. You’re top dog over the team.”

“Top dog?” His head lifts as his eyes widen.

“You’re the alpha male.”