Page 37 of Playboy Pitcher
Ben has a confused look on his face as he sniffs the air. But then his eyes widen, and he catapults himself halfway across the room. “Son of a bitch, my pizza!”
Following him into the kitchen, I stifle a laugh as he stands over a smoking oven, a black and charredsomethingin his mitted hand. “Aw, honey, you shouldn’t have.”
If looks could kill, I’d be six feet under. Tossing his ruined dinner into the trash, he throws the oven mitt across the kitchen. “Well, you’ve ruined my dinner, so stop screwing around. You said you came here with a proposition. What is it?”
Here it is. The moment of truth. I didn’t expect to do this standing in a smoky kitchen surrounded by the smell of burnt pepperoni, but what the hell.
“Marry me.” He just stares at me with this eerie blank look on his face. “Ben, did you hear me? I said—”
“I know what you said,” he says, cutting me off. “Did you hit a fucking tree on your way over here?”
“I know it sounds crazy, but—”
“Crazy?” Throwing his head back, he lets out a harsh laugh. “It doesn’t sound crazy, Willow! It sounds like that goddamn blue hair dye has seeped into your brain. On what…” He shakes his head as if the words themselves are foreign. “On what planet does marrying a woman I don’t know solve anything?”
I step forward with my palms out as if I’m taming a wild animal. “Just hear me out. This could benefit both of us. The addendum says I either have to keep the Storm in the family or sell to Drake.” He’s mumbling to himself, so I move closer, tilting my head back to look into his eyes. “There’s no clause about it passing to an ex-husband in a divorce settlement.”
He goes dead silent. “What?”
“You heard me. All we have to do is sign a prenup stating that when we divorce, you get sole ownership of the franchise. It’s legal and irrefutable, andtechnically,” I say with a smug grin, “I didn’t sell shit.”
He jabs a finger in my face. “You’re insane,” he yells before storming out of the kitchen.
I stand for a minute, stunned. It’s not like I thought this would be an easy sell, but I didn’t anticipate being shut down before I had a chance to plead my case. He’s being unreasonable. He’s being such a…guy. I only mentioned the word marriage, and it’s like I “tied the knot” around his balls just to watch them rot.
Enraged, I chase after him, finding him on the couch with the damn remote. Stopping in front of him, I snatch it out of his hand, turn off the TV, and throw it across the room.
“Hey, what the hell?”
“Come on, Ben. All we have to do is stay married until the end of Spring Training. When the regular season starts, we cite irreconcilable differences, quietly divorce, and it’s over.”
Flopping backward, he crosses his arms. “And what’s in it for me?”
Holy shit, I may kill this man.
“Are you for real right now? How about job security and a major league baseball team? For Christ’s sake, you spent most of last season on the injured list.”
That was a direct hit. Ben stiffens, clenching his jaw, every muscle in his neck straining with tension. Damn it, I didn’t mean to blurt it out like that, but he’s not listening.
Softening my tone, I move next to him and straddle the arm of the couch. “I’m not trying to hurt you, Ben; I’m being honest. You’re a twenty-six-year-old pitcher with a stitched-up elbow. How many years do you think you have left? One? Two at the most? Even a healthy pitcher’s career peaks at twenty-seven. What do you see in your future?” Instead of answering, he turns away, refusing to look at me. I sigh, my shoulders slumping as I throw out a final Hail Mary. “I’m handing you a billion-dollar major league franchise free and clear. You’ll retire a legend and go down in sports history. Your grandchildren’s grandchildren will never want for anything.That’swhat’s in it for you.”
He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “A wife would ruin my image.”
I smirk. “No one has to know. The marriage would be on paper only.”
He shoots me a side-eyed glare. “You think Benson LaCroix getting a marriage license in Palm Beach County won’t make headlines?”
“Someone has a high opinion of himself.”
He shrugs. “Just stating facts.”
He’s breaking. I can feel it. Excitement swirls in my gut so strongly, I can’t hold back. I’ve got my hooks in him. I have to reel him in now or risk him swimming away.
“So? We’ll cross state lines. There’s no waiting period in Georgia. We can leave tonight and drive to St. Mary’s.”
“What about your prenup? I’m pretty sure they don’t hand those out as a matrimonial buy one, get one free.”
I curl my lip at him. “I’ve already taken care of that.”
