Page 55 of The Road to Home Base
But I stood back up again when my phone dinged with an incoming text. A rather inviting pic came through of Rome in that bed. Waiting. Wanting.
I couldn’t say no.
Chapter Eighteen
Alex
TEXASWASSTIFLING. I thought, surely, early September would cool down like New England. No such luck. We stepped off the jet and a wave of oppressive heat so all-consuming hit me I paused to catch my breath. A black town car awaited us as we reached the end of the stairs. I had already begun to sweat.
“You have toplay in this?” I asked Rome. “I can barely breathe.”
He shrugged. “I’m gonna start chugging water soon. Right before the game, I take an ice bath, too. Usually helps.”
Our chatter stayed light on the way to the stadium. I thought he might drop me off at a hotel to wait but Rome informed me Joe was already at the stadium with Rome’s agent and a few others within the circle. He thought it would be nice to meet with everyone in one of the suites until the start of the game. I realized then why Rome asked me to pack a nice indoor outfit for the summer.
At the stadium, Rome brought us in through the guest players’ entrance. We stood in a narrow corridor that bifurcated, one direction going toward the guest clubhouse, and the other leading to an elevator that would bring me to the suite level.
Rome pushed through the entrance to the clubhouse and waved me in. “You can change in here then head up. Sound good?”
I had never been in a clubhouse before. Suddenly it felt invasive to enter one. Rome insisted with a second wave. “You sure?” I asked. “Isn’t there, like, a rule for significant others to go in or something?”
Rome looked at me. A single brow rose. “Significant other, eh?” He rubbed his chin. “That term is a lot stronger than ‘boyfriend,’ wouldn’t you say?”
My cheeks burned red and I pushed through into the clubhouse. He playfully tapped me on the ass as I passed by and then followed me inside. A carpeted hallway led us to an option of bathrooms on the right and a circular locker room on the left. Farther down I spied a weight room, a treatment room similar to the one I had seen via video chat with Rome, and offices beyond.
A low rumbling of voices emanated from the locker room as I paused at the arched entryway. Players moved about, some chatting, some on their phones, others lazing about in leather chairs. Several televisions hanging near the ceiling played highlights of recent games or sports channels.
My eyes went wide and I slipped behind Rome’s tall frame. “I’m not gonna meet everyone, am I?” I looked down at myself. Ragged t-shirt, too-short shorts, a pair of old, ratty loafers.
“No, no, these guys need to focus. Here,” he said and moved me beyond the archway to one of the conference rooms with clouded glass walls.
I changed into khaki slacks and a navy-blue polo, then stuffed my other clothes into the bag. Outside the conference room, Rome took the bag from me and said he’d store it in his locker.
“Will there be any big celebrations when you guys win?” I asked carefully in a quiet tone. I knew how superstitious otherscould be.
“The flight back will be pretty crazy.”
I blinked and realized Rome wouldn’t be joining them. “Oh, look, please don’t feel obligated to—”
He put a hand on my shoulder. “It’s not my first clincher and it won’t be my last. I can skip this one and fly back with you. Don’t worry.”
I smiled, looked up and down the hallway, then planted a quick peck on his cheek. “Have a good game. I’ll be watching with bated breath.Buona fortuna.”
“Grazie mille, cuore mio.”
I pulled back with a questioning look. “That’s a new one. What does it mean?”
He gave a boyish shrug and half-grin. “Text you after the game.”
Cryptic.
I loved it.
Rome escorted me until he split out to the locker room. I walked back out into the hallway and thumbed the elevator call button.
The visitor suite didn’t appear much different from the one back in Lexington. More Texan decor, that’s for sure, but still I saw a bartender readying for the evening in the corner, an unfilled buffet spread along the back wall, and clutches of leather furniture spread throughout the room. Not many people had filled the space yet, as we were a few hours from game time.
Joe walked toward me. He wore a pressed white button down with the sleeves rolled up and black slacks. As anticipated, he pulled me in for a hug rather than a handshake.
