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“I could get you fired.”

That stops her in her tracks, her bucket sloshing a little as it drops to her side.

“For what?” Willow asks, jaw tight as she takes a step forward. “This place is spotless every week. Granted, there’s not much mess to clean up, but I’m good at this job. You’d have no grounds for dismissal.”

There’s something about Willow challenging me that feels like a sparkler ignited between my ribs. Instead of pushing the sensation away, I lean into it.

Brushing an invisible piece of lint from my shoulder, I say, “I never consented to hugging. That’s illegal touching.”

I watch my failed attempt at humor spread like a sunrise over Willow’s face. It starts as a glimmer over her tense brow before her lip quivers in the beginnings of a smile, and by the time it’s reached her eyes, I almost have to shield my own, her face is so luminescent.

“You.” She frees one finger from the spray bottle to point at me. “An enigma. That’s what you are.”

Before I can ask for clarification, Willow spins on her heel, marching toward the elevator doors.

“See you next—”

But Willow doesn’t finish her sentence. Her right foot slips from beneath her, the bottle in her hand dropping first as she tries to catch her balance on a hall table. But that only juts the mop handle into the wall, pushing the wet end against her stomach until her breath leaves in a wheeze. Willow’s knees hit the floor as the mop water bounces up, drenching her clothes before she tumbles in a calamitous heap in the hallway.

“Willow.”

I rush over, sliding beside her and checking for injuries.

“This is good,” she starts as I squeeze various spots on her arms, searching for fracture points.

“How is any of this good?” I bark. “You could have been seriously hurt.”

Her brilliant smile nearly knocks the wind out of me. “This is good because if we’re going to be friends, you should know I’m a complete trainwreck.”

Chapter 5

Shane

The next afternoon, when Tenny Jackson sits in the chair beside me, I barely stifle a groan. Eighty percent of the chairs in our team meeting room are empty, yet he’s practically on top of me. A frustrated exhale huffs from my mouth. I really don’t need Tenny’s frenetic energy when I’m already struggling to stay calm.

“We missed you last night.” He slaps me on the shoulder like we’re best buddies. “It would have been a lot more fun if you’d come with us.”

Slowly drawing a deep breath through my nose is the only thing keeping me from giving him a snappy answer. Fortunately, Rhett Wells, our shortstop and Tenny’s actual best friend, plunks down beside him.

“Last night was unreal. I can’t believe we ended up on stage with Dylan Hargees. Colton is so jealous he missed out. He won’t stop sending me dramatic voice notes.” When Rhett laughs, I clench my hands beneath the table.

Even though every inch of my skin feels itchy and hot, I’m not really irritated with Rhett or Tenny.

I’m angry with myself, my agent, and Mike Ellison.

In that order.

Myself because of how much I enjoyed bantering with Willow last night. Her bright smile, unpredictable commentary, and chaotic energy should exhaust me, yet I find myself almost eager to see what happens next. If that wasn’t enough, the way she’s not afraid to challenge me keeps knocking me sideways. If anything, Willow seems to enjoy chipping away at my grumpy armor like a tiny tenacious tornado.

I shouldn’t like it as much as I do.

I should be focusing on my job and being the best player possible.

And that brings me to why I’m ticked at my agent. Carter called me in the middle of my home workout this morning. I had sweat dripping in my eyes when he mentioned that giving Alex Stevens—the new beat reporter for Diamond Breakdown—monosyllabic answers during interviews wasn’t doing me any favors.

“I know you don’t want to hear this, but media, fans, and being social is part of the job. More importantly, being liked is how you get sponsorships. Eventually, your body is going to wear out, and when it does, you’re going to want a nice financial cushion to fall back on.”

I don’t say anything, just grit my teeth. Though we’re not on a video call, I can almost see Carter rolling his neck in frustration.