Page 21 of Truth or Tequila (Grand Slam 1)

“Yeah, I thought so.” I motion her toward the dugout.

“See you later, Seb!” Gentry yells at me as we walk away. “I’ll be out here if you need me.”

Sophie clings to the handrail as we walk down the three steps into the dugout. My arms are ready to catch her if she passes out.

“You have a rough night last night?” I say as I motion her to the tunnel that leads to the clubhouse.

“No,” she whispers. “Just a little tired.”

“Really? You seem like you’re pretty hungover.”

She tries to turn around to look at me, but trips and falls into the wall. I grab her arm to steady her. “Or are you still drunk?” I say, laughing.

She spreads out on the concrete wall like she’s waiting for someone to search her. “Oh my God,” she groans, “this wall is so cold. It feels like heaven.”

I grab her shoulder and point her down the tunnel again. “Let’s get moving before someone sees you trying to hump the wall.”

“That wall is my friend, Seb.”

“Well, at least you’re calling me by the right name today.”

I lead her down the hallway that goes behind the clubhouse. The team gave me a private office back here as part of my new contract. I wouldn’t normally ask for that kind of special treatment, but I’m an introvert. I function better if I have a place to decompress alone. As we walk into my office, she drops her head back and stands right under the air-conditioning vent. Her hair’s blowing behind her like she’s doing a photoshoot.

“Oh my God.” She arches her back further. “This is amazing.”

“Don’t tilt back too far,” I say, sliding my hand under her shoulders. “You might pass out. Here sit down on the bed.”

She jolts upright. She looks at the bed and then back at me. I guess she didn’t see it when she came in.

“Look, I don’t know what you think is going to happen here,” she says, pointing at the bed, “but that’s not part of my job.”

I take a few steps away from the bed—holding my hands in the air. “The only thing that’s going to happen here is you taking a nap—by yourself.”

“What? I thought I was supposed to answer your fan mail.”

“My mom answers my fan mail.”

“Aww, that’s sweet.” She smiles and then frowns again when I take a step toward her. I reach in the compartment below the bed and get an extra blanket out.

“There’s water in here,” I say, opening the refrigerator. “I suggest you drink a lot of it. There’s Advil in my gym bag over there. I’ll wake you up in like an hour or so.”

She frowns. “How do I know you’re not going to come in here while I’m sleeping?”

“Well, first, you look like hell, so don’t flatter yourself.” I smile at her as I back up toward the door. “And second, the door locks from the inside. These are my keys.”

As I throw them to her, she covers her head like I lobbed a grenade at her. The keys hit her on the shoulder.

“Ow,” she says, opening her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I say as I grab the keys and toss them on the table next to my wallet and phone. “We’re definitely going to have to work on your reflexes.”

She looks from the table up to me. “You’re going to leave that stuff in here with me?”

“I don’t peg you as a felon, but if you are, my car’s the black Range Rover. Drive it with care. I love it more than I love most people.”

She’s still eyeing me suspiciously. I shake my head as I take her arm and pull her reluctant body over to the bed. I push her shoulders down until she’s sitting.

“You have control issues don’t you?” she says, squinting her eyes.

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