Page 9 of Making the Play

“No problem,” I’m quick to say this time. A hardship, yes, because keeping my hands off of Chloe for the next three months won’t be easy.

Rena looks to Chloe. “We’re good,” Chloe agrees.

“Okay, then. I’ve got another meeting to get to. Finn, Chloe is the expert in this arrangement, so you play by her rules.”

“Will do.” What else can I say? The Landsharks are my mother ship.

“Chloe, we’ll touch base in a few days.” Chloe nods and Rena leaves the room.

I sit back down. I can’t believe I’m looking at the only woman to star in more than one of my fantasies. “Small world, huh?”

She takes a chair across from me. “Yes, so before we start working together, I’d like to settle the car situation.”

“Nothing to settle. We’re good.”

“Finn.”

“It’s not a big deal. I probably should have noticed you making a U before I turned, so forget about it. Now tell me, why do I get the feeling you’re no stranger around here?”

Indecision mars her soft features before she relaxes into her seat. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I’ve been around baseball my whole life. My dad is Casey Conrad.”

I rub my free hand across my jawline. “Shit.” Casey is the home plate umpire whose face I got up into when I didn’t like his call. The major league umpire crew is a tight group and over the years, players get to know them. I’d never had an issue with Casey before. He’s one of the most respected veteran umps there is. But that day, in game three of the World Series, we were down by two and I’d snapped. I regret drawing lines in the dirt to show him up. The ass that day wasn’t him, it was me.

“Yeah, I was there for your little tirade. For the record, it was definitely a strike. McNeal lit up the radar gun all night and with a WAR of 5.6, you should have at least swung on the pitch.”

Jesus Christ, this girl knows baseball. I’m tempted to ask her for the definition of WAR, but then I’d definitely lose my mind and probably drop down on one knee and propose. That I even thought that last part means there is something wrong with me. Yes, the soft, melodic timbre of her voice makes me forget the pain in my collarbone. And yes, she radiates some kind of angelic light to go along with her confident attitude. But since when am I blindsided by a woman?

“Not my best moment.”

“We all have bad days.”

“Yeah? Tell me about one of yours,” I say to deflect. I’d much rather talk about her.

“Not today. Today I’m here to tell you about the job I was hired to do. For the next three months, I’ll be responsible for curating your brand. I’ll monitor, moderate, and respond to your followers, arrange and manage partnerships with other brands, and create and post shareable images and videos. I’d love to strategize with you, but if you prefer I take care of everything, I can do that. That doesn’t mean you’re off the hook. You’re our biggest asset so that means I’ll be taking lots of pictures of you. We’ll work the injury angle, baseball, your favorite stuff and your family if you’re cool with that. People want to keep getting to know the real you so we’re going to give it to them. Every couple of days I’ll track our traffic and note what content is working best. We’ll use those analytics to grow your audience. Rena tells me you have accounts on Instagram and Twitter. Can I ask why you’re not on Facebook?”

Business Chloe is hot AF, FYI. “My time is limited and I like the other two better.”

“Fair enough. Social media can be a time suck and a lot of people don’t particularly like being in a fish bowl. We can definitely leverage those accounts to engage existing users, enhance their loyalty, and gain new followers.” She glances at her phone. “Are you free for the next couple of hours? I sort of arranged an impromptu lunch with Mike and Giancarlo.”

“Sort of?”

“I did.”

“First order of business, then, we need to sync up our calendars. I’ve got an appointment with a veterinarian at one o’clock.” I could ask Sylvie to take Sammy to her first appointment, but 1) that’s asking too much, and 2) I want to do it.

“Is it time for your rabies shot?” A tug on Chloe’s lips accompanies her lighthearted tone.

“Funny, but no. I need to take my new puppy in.”

Chloe’s eyes widen in surprise and delight. “Are you serious right now? Because that totally trumps lunch today. Pets and athletes are social media gold. Is it okay if I tag along?”

I get to my feet. “Sure. Let’s go.”

She taps out something on her cell as we walk through the hallways toward the parking lot. “What’s the puppy’s name?”

---