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Prologue - Cole

Three and a half years earlier…

I’m so fucking lost right now.

I’ve been a New York Stars fan my entire life, so I’ve been to this stadium hundreds of times… but never as a player. Even the time I spent with the Kansas Huskers never had us travel to New York for an away series.

Since I was just traded to the Stars three weeks into my second full season in the majors, I need to learn how to navigate the stadium. I’m not making much progress with that, though, seeing as I’ve spent the better part of an hour wandering around the halls looking for my new Field Manager’s office.

“You look lost,” I hear a soft voice from behind me say. “You new?”

I turn around to respond… and find myself nearly speechless. I don’t know who this woman is, butdamnis she stunning.

She has a medium-dark complexion with dark, almost-black hair falling past her shoulders in tight curls and just the rightamount of curves. I can see the confidence radiating from her as well.

I don’t think I have a type, but if I do, she’s it.

After a few more moments of me completely objectifying her in my head, I get my bearings back. “Uh, yeah. I just got traded here from Kansas. I don’t know where shit is.”

She laughs, and the sound is like music—sweet and melodic. A tune I want to play over and over again.

I also want to know if she’d sound just as sweet if I had her underneath me.

“Well,” she says with a sly smile, “you’re not in Kansas anymore.”

“Thank fuck,” I laugh. “I’m a Brooklyn guy. Always wanted to play here.”

“I think I remember reading that,” she says, turning on her heel. “Follow me, Cole Pierce.”

I walk quickly to catch up to her. “You know who I am? I also didn’t tell you where I needed to go.”

“You really think you’re going to walk around here and not have people know who you are?” she smiles. “Everyone has been buzzing since we traded for you. You’re a strong bat, and we need that on the team.” We come to the end of this hall, so she leads me down the next hallway to the right. “Plus, you’re new. It’s not hard to figure out that you’d be looking for Skip’s office right now.”

“Who are you?” I ask, curiosity getting the better of me. “You’re familiar with the stadium, you know who I am, and you know a lot about baseball, it seems.”

“Been a Stars fan my entire life,” the still-unnamed woman shrugs. “My name is Rory.”

Rory? Why does that name ring a bell?

“Rory what?” I ask, not wanting to let the conversation stop. I’m already certain this is a woman I want to know, and probably for more than just a night.

Ignoring my question, Rory stops us in front of a door. “Here you are, Cole. Skip’s just inside waiting for you.”

“Right,” I reply uneasily. “Thanks.”

I knock two times before I hear a voice bellow from the other side. “Come on in.”

Before I can reach for the doorknob myself, Rory grabs it, opens the door, and lets us inside. “I told you I could find him,” she says, walking over to sit on the edge of Paul Fisher’s desk.

He laughs as he shakes his head. “Come on in, Cole. I hope my daughter wasn’t giving you a tough time.”

Daughter.

Rory.

RoryFisher.

That’s why her name sounded familiar.

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