Page 1 of Down to One

chapter 1

Katie Masterson turned the volume down on her AirPods and glanced at the time on her phone. Thirty-three minutes until first pitch.Just enough time.

WithThe Cameron Stone Showstill playing low in one ear, she snuck up into the stands and slid into her spot: row three, seat eleven. Same seat she used to sit in with her dad. Different stadium, different Major League Baseball team, but that connection to him still sparked every time.

He’d taken her to her first game when she was six and Katie remembered every detail: the parade of sweet and salty treats, the players strutting onto the field ready to perform, an entire stadium of people coming together to do the wave. And Anderson had that one great hit. From then on, going to the ballpark became their reprieve. From work, from school...from mom.

Nestled back in the stadium chair, her feet propped up on the empty seat in front of her, Katie glanced up at the blue sky where the late evening sun was just starting to burn off and sent out another thank you to the universe for her new job as an assistant to the public relations director for the Idaho Mavericks, the MLB’s youngest franchise.

Like Pedro Rojas, she could appreciate team owner John Maverick’s penchant for the classic American baseball atmosphere. A cooling breeze wafted in through the open roof as fans trickled into their seats around her, weaving among the popcorn and fifty-fifty vendors. Hints of grass and chalk wafted up from the field where players from both teams were warming up, their uniforms still crisp and clean.

Despite the multitude of tasks Katie still had to accomplish before first pitch, this pre-game ritual always helped get her through a long workday. Especially on a night like this when her boss seemed to be in a particularly nit-picky mood.

Speaking of the literal devil, Lori Turlington came clipping down the stadium stairs in her Valentino heels, sleek black bob swaying in perfect rhythm with her steps. The step-daughter of John Maverick, she carried out her role of PR director as if she had something to prove. She was known for her creativity and meticulousness—as well as her ability to go through assistants like candy.

Katie had survived going on three months. Her co-assistant, Ellis Jackson, had done the unthinkable and lasted an entire season under the Dragon Lady, as she was not-so-secretly known. He was patiently waiting for a position on the marketing team, and Katie often felt guiltily relieved one had yet to open up. She wasn’t entirely sure she could function in this job without Ellis. They protected each other from Lori’s wrath, ran interference when necessary, and had just recently taken to hanging out after work too. Katie grew more fond of him every day…and more ashamed of the life she’d left behind in Georgia.

Ellis was black and beautiful with a distinctly gender fluid style. While Katie had never seen a problem with anyone’s race or lifestyle choices, a lot of the family and friends she’d grown up with would have avoided, if not outright shunned, someone like him. Katie had never met someone so unabashedly himself, and she not only admired him for it, she kind of adored him.

From her spot in the third row, Katie twisted around and spotted her co-assistant as he followed Lori down the stadium steps. Ellis was nodding intently as the Dragon Lady threw out orders, but he still managed to share excited smiles with the group of kids from the Boys and Girls Club snaking behind him. Katie hopped to her feet, pulled her blonde hair up into a ponytail, and scurried to meet them on the field.

Chaos ensued for the next several minutes as five Maverick players stepped out of the dugout for a meet and greet. Katie and Ellis ran around passing out baseballs, hats, and markers for autographs, all while making sure the kids didn’t sneak off into the tunnel or mob their favorite players.

And everyone’s favorite was of course Landon Ryan. By the time the other players started trickling out to the field to finish warm ups, Katie still had a line of kids eagerly waiting for her to snap a photo of them with the Mavericks’ star shortstop. As far as job duties went, she couldn’t complain too much about taking endless pics of him. With shaggy black hair, strikingly light blue eyes, and one of the most impressive batting averages in the league, he was pretty much every fantasy she’d ever had come to life.

Just as the line started tapering off, a group of kids in royal blue and red Maverick jerseys called out from the stands: "Landon! Landon! Over here, Landon!" "You're so cool Landon! I'm number eight too!" "Can we get an autograph? Pleeeease?"

Landon looked at the kids, then back at Katie and nodded. Her eyebrows shot up, pupils scanning for Lori until she found her in the VIP box above the dugout, busy greeting sponsors. The Dragon Lady didn’t take kindly to anyone rocking her extremely tight ship, but that wasn’t something a group of eager young Maverick fans would understand. Besides, who was she, a lowly PR assistant, to argue with the highest paid player on the team? She jogged over to let the kids past security.

This next group proved to be more of a handful thanks to the inclusion of parents and even grandparents, who wanted in on the Landon Ryan photo action. Case in point: the over-Botoxed mom who still thought her eyes looked "too squinty" after four attempts at a photo.

"Ryan!" General Manager Tony Gerber’s notoriously deep baritone cut right through the excited chatter. "Get your ass out there and warm up. We don’t pay you to pose for pictures, we pay you to hit homers…and that’s about it, considering your record on the field these days."

Landon rolled his eyes and grinned, but not before Katie caught a slight wince around his temples. The group of fans surrounding him laughed. Not at Landon, but at the absurdity of Tony Gerber criticizing anything about the five-time All Star with the magic bat. Sure, he’d already committed enough errors this season to drop his fielding percentage to just over ninety-six percent, an all time personal low, but only a die-hard baseball fan like Katie would know that.

"Alright, last one!" Katie called out a warning to the filler-pumped mom. "One, twooooo, three." But she’d already snapped the picture on one and the woman finally went away pleased with her Insta-worthy shot.

Katie held up her palm to stop the next family from stepping forward and trotted over to talk to Landon. "If you need to get back out there, I can break the bad news. We’ll dig out some more swag, free hot dogs, it’ll be fine," she told him.

Inwardly, she cringed at the task. Who wanted to be the one to dash a bunch of kids’ hopes? But if she was going to play in the big leagues, she had to put on her big girl panties. Disappointing fans came with the job.

Landon didn’t seem bothered in the least. "Why? Because of Gerber Baby over there? I’ve been here since eight this morning; I’ve had plenty of warm up. Don’t sweat it."

Katie returned to the waiting fans, but moved it along faster, making hair and position adjustments as necessary to get the kids and parents through the line. Luckily, helping a woman look her best in photos was damn near instinctual at this point. At least growing up with a narcissistic mother came with one marketable skill.

The line of unauthorized fans finally filtered out with Lori none the wiser, but what Landon did next would have made any ass chewing worth it. He tossed Katie a wink, a grin, and the last autographed baseball still clutched in his hand. Her palm opened up, plucking the ball from the air with ease.

Landon gave her quick instincts an impressed nod, then he waggled his eyebrows, raising them twice in quick succession, a simple, playful move that sent a whole swarm of butterflies fluttering in her tummy.

"Thanks, Katie," he said, before jogging off.

She squeezed the ball in her hand, still warm from his touch, a heady excitement swirling around her. He hadn’t signed it for her, probably hadn’t even intended for her to keep it...but he knew her name. That alonemade her want to dance around in circles like some school girl with a crush. Like asillygirl, perhaps? Her mother’s voice crashed into her moment, pulling her back to reality with an abrupt snap.

"Ha, silly is right," Katie muttered to herself. "More like utterly fucking delusional."

The Mavericks organization had a strict "no fraternizing with the players" policy for all employees, but that was entirely besides the point. Any sort of romantic entanglement with Landon Ryan would certainly be in her fantasies. The man dated Instagram models and actresses for goodness sake. Women tabloids paid money to get photos of. Katie had confidence in her appearance, but she was also realistic. She didn’t have the sleek, shiny perfection women of that caliber portrayed. Her nose had a tiny bump at certain angles and her dark brows contrasted a bit too sharply with her pale skin. Her eyes were somewhere between hazel and plain brown, her hair frizzed out at the slightest hint of moisture, and she couldn’t seemto take a good photo to save her life.

But she also had an inherent sense for fashion, plump lips, and a dimple in her left cheek that men seemed to go crazy for. A "blonde Southern belle" as Kyle’s aunts liked to say, yet never the "belle of the ball." That honor always seemed to go to someone louder and flashier. Someone who swayed when she walked and purred when she talked. Someone like the women Landonfreakin’Ryan dated, Katie reminded herself again.

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