Page 17 of Imperfect Player

I throw him a quick wink before I jog toward the mound.

Fox is already squared up behind home plate.

I take a deep breath, the smell of the grass and dirt mixed with the fresh air settling over me.

It smells like home. The only real home I’ve ever known.

Baseball saved me as a kid. And again a couple years ago.

I take another breath, sucking in every piece of serenity the scent brings me, then I wind up and pitch.

“Fuck, man,” Fox calls out. “That shit hurt even with the glove on.”

It’s going to save me today.

“Get used to it. It’s only going to get worse.”

Another wind up. Another pitch.

Damn, that feels good.

Chapter 5

Everly

“Twice in one week? How lucky can we be?”

The sound of Jessa’s voice fills the air. She’s Tripp’s assistant—mine too, if I need her. But her main job here is to greet all the clients as they walk in, which is exactly why she’s young and beautiful and . . . perky.

All the clients love her. And she most definitely loves all of them.

The exaggerated yet authentic excitement in her voice tells me that it’s someone big.

I check Tripp’s calendar to see who it might be. Only one meeting. Scheduled for twenty minutes from now.

Ethan Ambrose.

The name on the screen causes my breath to hitch, and my skin to tingle with excitement.

Ethan is here. So close that I can practically smell his aftershave.

“Tripp is on a call right now, Mr. Ambrose,” Jessa tells him. “He should be done shortly.”

I know that Tripp hates making clients wait, even if it is because they’re the ones that are early.

So for that reason—and that reason only—I make my way into the lobby of Advantage Player.

“Mr. Ambrose,” I say from my doorway.

“Ms. Mann. What a pleasure to see you again,” he says, taking a step toward my office. Toward me.

His smile is soft, sweet, and it makes me smile instantly too. Not that I wasn’t already giddy on the inside just from knowing he was here.

Jessa’s eyes are on us, and the last thing I want is to give the perception that Ethan and I are anything but business. It’s hard enough being a woman in a man’s world. I don’t need to add fuel to the fire.

“May I get you some coffee?” I ask him.

“That’s my job,” Jessa protests from behind him.

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