Page 29 of Raine Out (Grand Slam 2)

Raine

As the wheels touch down, my anxiety level goes straight up. Not only am I regretting the stupid bet I made with Butch, but I’m also a little stressed about seeing Sophie and Maisie again.

Sophie and I have known each other almost literally since birth. She was born two days after me at the same hospital. Our families have lived next door to each other for almost thirty years. Despite being opposite in looks and demeanor, the neighbors called us “the twins” when we were growing up because we were practically glued to each other’s sides.

We met Maisie in kindergarten and became an inseparable trio until high school. Sophie and Maisie went to the public high school in our neighborhood while I headed to an all-girls, private school across town.

From the first day of freshman year, I had a full schedule of AP classes, so I spent most of my time studying. By contrast, they were involved in every extracurricular activity possible. While I was in the library, they were at football games, dances, and student council meetings.

Sophie and I still saw each other most weeks. We’d catch up on our driveways if we got home from school at the same time. Occasionally, we’d have a double date with Dak—the guy she set me up with my freshman year—and whatever guy she was dating at the time. But overall, we kept heading in different directions until she and Maisie ended up in Miami for college and I went to Georgetown.

We still see each other on the occasional holiday back in Chicago, but I hadn’t seen either of them in almost two years when Sophie called to invite me to her wedding. I didn’t even know she was engaged—much less to one of the most famous athletes in the world. At least that’s what my mom tells me.

Mom normally wouldn’t know a baseball from a hockey puck, but apparently Seb helped her carry groceries into the house when he and Sophie were in Chicago visiting her parents. Now, Mom’s his number one fan. She was even wearing his jersey the last time I talked to her on FaceTime.

As we walk out of the airport’s secured area, I run ahead of Butch and climb on a bench to peek out of the terminal window. I immediately see Sophie in front of the airport. I’m assuming the guy whose lap she’s sitting on is Seb. Maisie’s standing a few feet from them—talking on the phone.

Butch looks out the window. “I see Seb Miller. I’m assuming the one he’s almost inhaling is Sophie.”

“Yeah, that’s her,” I say, sighing. “Have you ever seen a more beautiful couple?”

“As a matter of fact,” he says, wrapping his arm around my waist and lifting me off the bench, “I’m looking at a more beautiful couple right now.”

“What?” I say, squinting at him. “Who?”

He shakes his head. “Did you already forget we’re supposed to be a couple?”

“No!” I say, trying to sound convincing.

“You work for the CIA. How are you so bad at this? You’re going to blow your cover within the first few seconds.”

“I am not,” I say, throwing my shoulders back. “I’m on vacation. I forgot for a second. I’m good now—locked and loaded.”

“You’re so far from that right now. Seriously, girl, breathe. I’ve seen you keep your focus in the most stressful life-or-death situations at work. How are you letting this get to you?”

“It’s not getting to me. I just haven’t seen Sophie and Maisie for a while. I’m excited—”

“Terrified is more like it.” He grabs my shoulders and steadies me. “This is kind of fun. I’ve never seen you so scattered. Let’s make it interesting. I’ve got a hundred that says you blow your cover in the first five minutes.”

“No deal,” I say, pushing him away from me. “One bet with you per vacation is plenty.”

“That’s fine,” he chuckles. “I’m good with just winning the one. And speaking of that bet, when you see the guy you want to target, our signal is head-patting. Do you think you can remember that part?”

I let out a long, shaky breath. “You know, maybe we should just turn around and go back home?”

“We’re not doing that.” He points at me. “Stay right there. I have to use the men’s. When I get back, we’re going out there together to start our carefree vacation. Do you understand me?”

“No,” I say, shaking my head forcefully. He stops it, grabs my chin, and nods it up and down.

“Yes, Butch,” he says in a falsetto voice. “I understand your command and I’ll do anything you want me to do.”

“My voice doesn’t sound like that,” I say, swatting his hand away. “And I’m not doing anything you want me to do. In fact, I’m not doing anything you want me to do.”

“There she is,” he says, walking backward into the bathroom. “Welcome back, Trouble. I thought I’d lost you there for a second.”

As he disappears, a man walks out. “Trouble, huh?” he says, raising his eyebrows. “How’d you get that nickname?”

“Many hours of putting in the hard work.”

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