Page 43 of Elevator Pitch

The saying in Chicago is, if you don’t like the weather, stick around for a few minutes. Inevitably, it will change. Sometimes we can experience all four seasons in a day. It’s ridiculous, and I often wonder why I remain in such a temperamental climate. But I’m born and raised in the Midwest, and while I love Arizona, I don’t see moving here in my immediate future. I still have a college tuition to pay, and maybe a wedding or two one day, which means mama needs a new book.

Despite the sudden downpour, the game goes on as the rain isn’t strong enough to impair or delay play.

As I’m sitting with my feet on the seat in front of me, knees tucked up as tight as I can bring them to my chest, with my pullover stretched around my legs and my arms wrapped beneath my knees like a human pretzel, the man beside me hands me a jacket. He’s an older gentleman, his wife beside him.

I glance down at the kind offering then up at him. “Oh, thank you, but no thank you. I’ll be okay.” My teeth chatter as the cooler temperature settles into my skin, but I fight through the rattle.

“I was asked to pass it down to you.” With the jacket still in his grasp, held out to me, he points toward a young man standing in the aisle at the end of our row. Once again, I have seats near the Anchor dugout, a few rows back, with an easy view of the players as they trot out onto the field and then rush back for cover once their turn at bat is over.

The young man standing in the aisle wears black pants and an Anchors polo, plus a ballcap. He looks like an older batboy or a very young security guard. Either way, he nods for me to take the jacket held by the man beside me.

My brows pinch while I shift, holding up my hand as a sign of gratitude before taking the jacket.

“Thank you,” I mutter to the man next to me, as I hold up the jacket, spreading it wide to read the front.

“Looks like the official coaching staff’s attire,” the man beside me states.

Lowering the offering, I glance toward the dugout. From my position, I can’t see inside the covered space. Ross is down there somewhere, tucked in a corner, concentrating on the game. The Anchors are up to bat, so I envision Ross observing Gee Scott standing over home plate. Ross’s fingers might even nervously round his silver scruff, circling his lips before tugging at his chin.

I bring the jacket to my face, inhaling the spicy masculine cologne scent on the collar, then I flip the outerwear around my shoulders and slip my arms into material that is dry and warm, like it has just been removed from someone else, their body heat lingering inside.

Tugging the two sides tighter around me, like a warm hug, I tuck my face once more into the collar and fight a smile.

That Ross Davis is a damn gentleman, and dammit, I don’t want my crush to turn into lust-like or like-lust, or whatever the stage is after a crush, when your attraction grows deeper, your emotions grow fonder, your desire burns hotter, but you haven’t crossed the line to another L-word.

One I don’t dare to consider falling into with Ross.

Chapter 14

[Ross]

She left the game early.

“For a moment there, I thought we lost you,” Kip teases, clapping me on the shoulder once we are inside the management offices.

“What do you mean?”

“You almost sprained your neck looking into the stands.”

“I did not,” I groan. But Kip didn’t miss how I took off my jacket and sent it with a security guard into the stands. What was she thinking, wearing shorts and a tee to a game when rain was predicted? Not to mention, how had I not known she’d be here?

“Looks like your experiment is working,” he chides next, shaking his head in disbelief.

Yeah, the experiment appears to be working as we won our game yesterday, finishing out the series with Boston. Then today, the game ended in a win as well, despite her leaving early. And suddenly, I’m not certain it’s spending the night with her that’s bringing me luck, or just her presence in the stands. Which doesn’t make sense as she hadn’t attended those two away games with Boston.

I force myself not to look at the bigger picture. Like maybe just having her in my life is the lucky bit.

However, I am not the only one in her life and I’ve been unsettled since the moment she told me she had plans last night. Which was a definitive rejection and warning not to spontaneously, or otherwise, visit her place.

I didn’t like it. Didn’t like the thought of another man taking her out or sharing her bed or even touching her, which was just plain ridiculous.

We weren’t in an arrangement that demanded monogamy or loyalty. Still, she’d mentioned what her husband did to her, and I didn’t like that he’d cheated on her. I might have had a string of situationships in my past, but I was loyal in each and every one of them. I couldn’t fathom cheating on a woman, especially someone as sweet, kind, and funny as Vee.

“Yeah,” I finally muster a response for Kip, who has been staring at me, waiting on a reply to his statement.

“You don’t sound very excited about it.” He narrows his eyes, placing his hands on his hips and tilting his head, trying to read me.

“I’m excited about the wins,” I state, trying to lift my enthusiasm.