Page 5 of Wild Pitch

I know what you’re thinking.An arranged marriage? What is this, the eighteen hundreds?Andyeah.That’s what I said too. Actually, my exact words were“Well, blessed be. Thank you for bestowing upon me a man to show me my place in this world.”My dad rolled his eyes, told me I’d never keep a man happy with such a poor attitude, and informed me that I’d be marrying Conrad Astor by the time I was twenty-five if I wanted my share of the Decker family fortune.

I gave it a try. I dated him for as long as I could stand him. But the thing about rich, trust-fund nepo babies like him—they’re raised by generations of men who teach them the most closed-minded ways of life.“Women shouldbe seen and not heard.” “A wife’s place is in the home.”“The man is the head of the family. Women aren’t our equals.”

A girl like me can only tolerate theStepford Wivesbit for so long before she loses her shit.

So I left. Like a literal thief in the night. I packed up everything I could fit into my small BMW and drove as far away as I could. I had enough money saved to make it to the East Coast, where I had landed a job as the marketing manager here at the boutique.

I still talk to my parents. Well, I still talk to my mom. My dad refuses to speak to me until I come back and marry Conrad. I think he’ll come around eventually. I’d like to believe he just wants the best for me, but he doesn’t realize the damage that always having to be perfect was doing to me. I’m afraid to think of where I’d be right now if I hadn’t decided to leave when I did.

“So, what now?” Grace asks. “I know I’ll be in Boston, but if I can help in any way, I will.”

Claire shakes her head. “I’m afraid it’s time girls,” she says, defeat evident in her tone. “It’s time to close our doors. I’m eighty-two years old. I should’ve retired long ago, but I just love this boutique so much. I wanted to do it until I couldn’t anymore. I had no idea it would be the economy that took us out rather than me croaking.”

Grace lets out a quiet chuckle, wrapping her arm around Claire and squeezing her frail body. It takes me several seconds to snap out of my haze, but I look their way as Grace widens her eyes as if to sayhello, hug her, prompting me to walk over and join in on their embrace. But internally, I’m freaking the fuck out.

If I don’t have a job, I can’t pay my bills. If I can’t pay my bills, I have to go crawling back to my parents. Andthat can’t happen. Thankfully, I’m good at what I do, so I’m sure I’ll find something else, but who knows how long that could take?

I step back, trying my best to remain sympathetic while also attempting to gauge the category of shitstorm I may be in. “How much longer do we have here?” I ask.

“Well,” Claire begins. “I spoke with a realtor, and they have someone who’s looking to open a day spa. They think this space would work really well for it, and if I let them start making their renovations on the first of the month, I won’t have to miss a payment while we go through the process of selling the building to them. So, I agreed.”

“That’s in ten days,” I say, completely shocked. I’m trying to be sympathetic to Claire, considering she’s losing her life’s work, but I feel like my throat is starting to close up from the anxiety of not knowing what I’m going to do for money. I’ll do anything if it means not having to slink back to my parents and Conrad, but a week and a half isn’t nearly enough time to line something up.

“I know, honey. I’m so sorry,” Claire says as Grace and I back away, giving her some space. “If it puts you in a bad spot with money, I’m sure I can find a way to help you out.”

“No,” I reply, feeling terrible for worrying her. “I’ll be totally fine, Claire. I’ve been dying to get into freelance marketing so I can travel more. I was scared to make the leap, but I guess this is my sign to give it a shot.” It’s not a lie. Ihavebeen wanting to go out on my own, but I had a good thing going here at Praya. I’m far away from home, in a small town where nobody would even think to come find me—not that they’ve tried—and I’ve made enoughmoney to take care of myself without needing any help. Not to mention, I love the ladies here. Claire and her sales manager, Etta, may be in their eighties, but I consider them to be some of my closest friends. And Grace is the most important person in my life. Up until she said she was resigning as our head fashion buyer to design clothes full-time in Boston, I had no reason to even consider leaving here.

But now? Maybe I could find a way.

THREE

RIGGS

“Oh my God,you areso funny!” Jennifer screeches, laughing entirely too hard at my bad joke. She’s from Georgia, but visits on occasion to take care of her great aunt that lives in my building. We hooked up last year and the sex wasn’t bad, plus she’s one of the only hookups I’ve ever brought to my actual condo, rather than just fucking in my car or a hotel room. So when I ran into her in the elevator earlier, an idea popped into my head. I’d ask her to come up for a drink, and feel her out to see if she’d be a suitable fake girlfriend for this bullshit situation I fucked myself into.

Apparently, I forgot that she’s annoying as shit.

Sorry, but she is.

Maybe it was because she was either choking or screaming the last time I saw her, which didn’t leave her with a lot of time to speak, but everything out of her mouth since she walked in the door tonight has either been about herself or my job. I stopped listening when she asked if I’d get her and her friends a suite to our nextgame so they could see all the“baseball baddies”. Her words, not mine. Although Acedoeshave an ass you could bounce quarters off of. Normally, I wouldn’t care. I’m used to women only wanting me because I play professional baseball, but this is a different story. I need someone who’s not only completely all in on the fact that our relationship would be fake, but also someone I can trust. Clearly, Jennifer here isn’t the girl for the job.

I won’t lie. I’m starting to get a little nervous. I know I need to find someone to do this with me, but it seems as though my fuckboy ways are finally catching up to me. Maybe if I had put a little more energy into finding something more solid with the women I’ve spent my time with, I wouldn’t be out here scraping the bottom of the barrel for someone to pretend to be in a relationship with me until I’ve shown the Fury organization that they can trust me to lead their team.

“So, you know Hawk Mason?” She asks, and I inwardly roll my eyes.

“Yep. He’s my third baseman,” I reply on a forced exhale. Can this girl just hurry up and tell me how hot that broody motherfucker is so I can get her out of here and go back to the drawing board?

“Is he really that hot in person?”

There it is.

“Sure is,” I say, walking over and gently ushering her to the entryway. “It was honestly so nice to see you, Jennifer. I had a great time catching up, but I have a bunch of stuff to do, so we’ll talk later. Send my regards to your sweet Aunt Geraldine.” She looks at me confused, sputtering in an attempt to answer as I open the door and lead her into the hallway.

“But I thought we were going t?—”

She doesn’t even finish the thought before I slam the door, running my hands down my face in frustration. The worst part of it all is that I can’t blame anyone for this shit but myself. My big mouth has gotten me in trouble more times than I can count, but this time I’ve really fucked up. Where am I going to find a fake girlfriend who will not only be okay with going through with whatever this crazy-ass plan brings, but also won’t want anything more from me after we’re done?

What I need is someone who hates me.

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