Page 45 of Imperfect Player

“Do you want to go with me or not?”

“Are you sure you don’t want to be alone? Just in case?” she asks, a wicked smile on her face.

“Yes or no?”

“Of course I’ll go. No way am I turning down good tickets to a Railcats game. Or the opportunity to get up close and personal with Ethan Ambrose.”

My face stays forward but my eyes glimpse in her direction. Just how personal does she think she’s going to get with Ethan?

I can’t let her know that the idea of her flirting with him bothers me. She’ll never let me live it down. Not to mention she’ll do everything in her power to push the two of us together.

Rather than come across as a jealous girlfriend, I put the spotlight back on her.

“What about what’s his name?” I ask her, recalling her telling me that her latest one-night stand turned into a two-night stand. Then a three-night stand. And now they’re basically dating, though she won’t admit to it.

“Oh, Joe? Yeah, he’s great, but we’re talking Ethan Ambrose. Unlike you, there is no way in hell I would pass up a chance with him.”

I don’t have a chance. If I did, he would have made a move the other night when we sat in my apartment until the early morning hours. All we did was talk though. No flirting. No trying anything. He was a perfect gentleman.

“I’m not passing anything up. There was nothing offered up.”

Open mouth, insert foot.

“Exactly, because we both know that if he tried, there is no way you would be able to resist.”

I hop off the treadmill, doused in sweat. Chelle, on the other hand, is cool as a cucumber.

“You do know the speed goes past two and a half, right?” I tease her.

“You may want to stay super healthy and toned, but I’m just looking to burn enough calories to indulge in a few Hershey’s kisses each night.”

“You’re a mess.” I toss my towel at her.

“No, you’re a mess.” She waves her hand in front of her face. “A stinky, sweaty mess.”

I move closer to her. “You know how much I love you, right?”

“Don’t,” she warns me.

“Come on, give me a hug. I’m your best friend. You wouldn’t deny me that, would you?”

Finally, Chelle begins to run—straight into the locker room of our gym.

After our workout, we each headed home to get ready for the game. My closet has plenty of Railcats gear, but nothing specific to Ethan. Since he invited me, I feel like I needed to wear his jersey.

“That’s what you’re wearing?” Chelle scolds when she gets into my car and sees the plain tank top that I paired with some jean shorts.

“I didn’t have an Ambrose jersey,” I tell her.

“Ah. And you’ve got to support your man.”

“My friend. And yes, I do.” I turn the car onto the highway, the quickest route to the stadium, which is on the outskirts of town.

Our first stop is the stadium store.

There’s something about seeing his name splattered all over the place that makes me feel proud. Other players’ names are everywhere too, including my very own client Maddox Prescott. Knowing what I now know about Ethan, how he lost his parents at such a young age, how much he’s had to overcome, it makes all this seem so much more.

More important. More special. More amazing.

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