Page 58 of Houston, We Have a Problem
I swallow. “I should tell you something. I know about the Scorpions, and I have to run a story about you coaching them.” Goodness, he looks ready to run, so I grab his arm, hating that he flinches at my touch. “I don’t have a choice,” I tell him. “But I don’t want to do anything to hurt those kids. If the country finds out you are their coach, they’re going to want to show up for the chance to meet you or see you in action, and that could jeopardize the boys’ safety or make them too nervous to play. That’s the last thing I want. I don’t know what to do, Houston. You have to tell me how to protect those boys because either I tell the story, or Connor will send someone else in to tell it for me.”
He clenches his jaw so hard that the muscles look ready to snap, and I’m pretty sure this just ruined any chance of friendship between him and Tamlin. He has every reason to hate me, especially because I saved this for the end of our date rather than coming clean right from the start. I would hate me too.
But then he pulls his eyebrows together, looking more thoughtful than angry. “How did you find out?” is his first question.
No way am I going to put his relationship with Darcy in danger too. “I have my ways. I told you I was here for Little League.”
“Have you filmed anything with the team?”
“Not yet. But I might have to.”
He nods slowly, his gaze distant while he thinks. “Everyone on that team is low income. It’s the only way they’re allowed to be a Scorpion. We’ve had to trade players to other teams because their parents got better jobs and started making more. A lot of those parents are proud people—in a good way—and they won’t like their poverty being on display.”
“Did you buy all their uniforms and equipment?” I ask. Nothing about their jerseys had looked any different from the other team’s in terms of quality, and every boy had a decent mitt.
Houston grimaces. “I don’t want that to be part of the story.”
My breath catches when I realize what he’s saying. “You’re going to let me run the story?”
“Do I have a choice? But you have to let me control the narrative.Please. Do an interview with me at our game on Saturday. You can get your footage of the boys in the background, but the focus has to be on me.”
His words may sound self-centered, but they’re not. He’s desperate to protect the privacy of those boys and willing to use himself as a shield.
I smile, easily agreeing to his terms. “You can decide how much information goes out. We won’t mention the team name or which league you’re a part of, but maybe it can boost support across the board from those people who might go around to games trying to find you.”
“Exactly.”
“This is only going to make you more of a golden boy,” I warn.
He chuckles. “I don’t know why everyone thinks I’m perfect. I’m not. There are plenty of guys who play an honest game and live their lives privately.” Then he sits forward, piercing me with a stare that seems to dig inside me in search of the truth he must be able to sense lurking. “So why me? You can tell me all you want that you came to Sun City for the kids, but I know you’re here for me. Why?”
It’s dangerous, but I answer honestly. “I wish I knew.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Houston
I am going to murderKit Morgan.
This is what I get for not being around to help make the bet at trivia night, and I wish I had Tamlin’s number so I could blame all of this on her. She’s the one who distracted me at the bar. She’s the one who knew the answer to the last question but didn’t say anything. If anything,sheshould be the one wearing this costume, but that wouldn’t even be justice because she would look amazing in this.
“I sort of understand the appeal of tights now,” Jordan says, coming up beside me and joining me in the full-length mirror in my closet. “These are comfier than I would have expected. And dang, do I look good.”
There is no way on this blessed earth that I will ever agree with him out loud, but the man can rock a tutu.
Yep. Kit’s version of a normal bet payout is having to wear a leotard and tutu for the duration of my family Halloween party. He will require multiple pictures throughout the night so we don’t change. I’m pretty sure he put Fischer and Micah in charge of the documenting, and I doubt Fischer is going to waste this opportunity to trash me. (I may not have interacted with him much at trivia, but when I talked to him at the lodge opening, I got the feeling Micah’s new boyfriend doesn’t really like me. Or maybe he does? He’s so hard to read.) Generally Kit is pretty tame when it comes to bets, and he should, in theory, be satisfied with the pictures. But once he has them…
If I see any evidence of this night on his stupid woodworking video channel, he’s officially dead to me. (It’s not stupid. It’s really cool. He teaches kids woodworking in a way that makes it appealing to adults too. I have to admit there have been a few times that I’ve wanted to try building a table orsomething just because he makes it look so easy.) But he’s smart enough to know that sharing a photo of me in a tutu would do nothing but hurt me…I hope.
Jordan puts his arm on my shoulders, and I really wish he would stop making so much eye contact in the mirror when I feel like I am entirely on display. I was once part of a “sexy baseball player” calendar photo shoot and wore only boxer briefs for my May feature, and yet right now I feel way more exposed than I ever have been. Which makes no sense, considering Jordan and I shared a locker room for all of high school and two years of college. There’s just something about being in skintight Spandex that makes me shudder.
“Pink is not my color,” I say weakly. “Would it make me a jerk to uninvite Darcy to the party over text so there’s no possible way she sees me like this?”
Jordan laughs. “Yeah, it would. Besides, you’re looking at this the wrong way. This might be just what you need to get her fully on your side. No woman in her right mind can resist a set of abs like those.”
He pokes me in the gut. I shove him into my vast array of blazers.
His tumble into my formal wear doesn’t faze him, and he hops right back up to start striking ballet poses in the mirror.
