Chapter Ten

The next afternoon, Lynette Glass, his agent, was waiting for him in front of the restaurant she’d chosen. At nearly six feet, she was a force to be reckoned with. Her jet-black hair was pulled away from her gorgeous face. Her dark skin was flawless and her high cheekbones and full lips were a photographer’s dream, but she didn’t want to be in front of the camera. She wanted to be closing the deals for the people who were. She was a damn good agent and she’d had his back more than once.

“There you are. No limping, no beer belly, you’re freshly shaved. I guess I shouldn’t have been worried,” she said, leaning forward so he could kiss her cheek. He wasn’t limping and he definitely felt better today than after the game.

“I wasn’t on vacation. Just getting better.” Plus, he was pretty good at working off any beer he drank.

She looped her arm through his. “Let’s talk about that.”

Sawyer chuckled. No shooting the breeze with her. She was all business, but he knew her clients mattered to her. She made it clear through her actions and the way she fought for them to get what they deserved.

The hostess led them to their seats at a corner table in the BBQ joint Sawyer loved and told them the waitress would be with them in a moment. Lynette picked up her menu.

“I’m starving. Let’s figure out what we want so we can get it out of the way.”

His lips tipped up. She was easy to smile around, and he sometimes forgot—especially when he got inside his own head—that he had people in his corner.

“I want one of each,” Sawyer said, not entirely joking.

Her dark eyes locked on his. “You could get away with it. Me? Not so much.”

Sawyer shook his head. She looked damn good, and she knew it. He loved a woman with confidence. Addie had plenty of it, but every now and again, he caught a glimpse of vulnerability that made his heart jump. In her direction. You’re here to focus on your career. What’s left of it.

They ordered a couple of sodas and decided to share a family-style platter of BBQ chicken and pasta. Sawyer’s mouth watered when the waitress dropped off the complimentary bread. He broke it apart, ready to pop a chunk in his mouth.

“Sorry about the game, but your knee held up, and you guys played well. What did Liam and Isla say?” Lynette asked, picking up her own chunk of the toasted pan bread.

Stomach tightening, he held her gaze. “They brought in Mateo Voricco. They said they’re not pushing me out. They’re considering it an opportunity for the next generation to be mentored by the current superstars.” He hadn’t even started eating and his stomach felt like he’d ingested concrete. “That’s a direct quote.”

Lynette frowned around her bite of bread and pulled her purse off the chair she’d placed it on. She grabbed her hot-pink planner and opened it up to a tab that had his name.

“I’m going to talk to them. You’re not there to mentor. You’re there to play ball, and if they’re going to have a rookie come in, they damn well better not use your field time.” She made a couple of notes, so he made himself busy eating the bread.

“What else?”

After a drink of his soda to wash down the bread, he told her about the rest of the meeting; Isla’s “vision” as Addie had called it. He knew he’d hurt her feelings when he’d dismissed her friend’s intentions, but this was his life. If it didn’t work out—their mentorship idea—what then? The best player stayed? Started? Succeeded?

“Nothing. I did a charity thing a few nights back for MS.”

Her dark brows came together and she stared at him for a full beat before shaking her head. “You hate social functions.”

“I got roped into it,” he said. And he wasn’t even sorry.

“Interesting. Did you donate?”

Looking over her head, he cleared his throat. “Sort of. I, uh, was auctioned off. Brought in four grand.” Which he still couldn’t believe.

Lynette placed her hands flat on the table. “Were you held at gunpoint?”

He chuckled, heat rising on the back of his neck. “Nope.” It seemed better not to mention that he had, technically, been kidnapped.

“Well, this newfound willingness to share yourself with the public works out well for me and the rest of this conversation,” she said.

The waitress came to drop off plates full of mouthwateringly good-looking food. She asked if they had everything they needed, and Sawyer stopped short of asking for a bib. He was starving. They loaded up their plates before he turned over what Lynnette had said in his head.

“I don’t like parading myself in public like a freaking show dog,” he said around a huge bite.

She knew this about him and generally respected it. He knew that a lot of guys made some serious coin for endorsing hot spots with their presence, showing up at parties to schmooze, and making a splash in the media. That was all fine for them, but unless he was playing ball, Sawyer had no interest in being in front of a camera. If it was a name brand endorsement, sure. As long as he actually believed in the product. For someone who had grown up with little and had a family full of people with their hands out, he should have been less discerning. But he hadn’t worked his ass off to get to The Show just so he could nickel and dime it. He was an athlete, not a twenty-something Instagrammer checking out the new clubs.

“Well, other than the celebrity dance event, which is televised, and the game show, which I’ve been informed you wiggled out of, you’re off the hook in that regard for now. However, I’m having a party at my place tomorrow, and before you say no”—she huffed out a breath when he started to do that—“it’s to meet a few people and mingle. The fact is you are getting to the end of your baseball-playing career regardless of what happened with your knee. I’m assuming you’re not going to don a pair of plaid pants and spend all your days golfing, so this is something you need to do. A few of the people attending work for sports networks. That might be a good next step for you. Maybe in a consultant position. Some camera time but not a lot.”

See. She knew him well. He didn’t want to give shout-outs on twitter, but he could damn well talk ball with other former athletes. He nodded. Okay. He could do that.

“Fine. Where is it?”

“My condo. Not that you need any help with the ladies, but Alyssa Davay will be there. She has a little crush on you and has brought you up more than once. She’s extremely excited about the dance event. You two would certainly photograph well.”

Sawyer rolled his eyes. He’d be happy to owe Addie for the rest of his life if she could find a way to extricate him from that. Alyssa was an actress he’d successfully managed to avoid spending one-on-one time with. From what he’d experienced, she wasn’t so bad. It was her agent who’d cornered him at more than one event. Those conversations focused on complaining about the job of making Alyssa famous for more than being a pretty face. Without her agent, Alyssa seemed fine but Sawyer didn’t like the feeling he got from the other woman. He also got the distinct impression that her agent believed there was some sort of cache that came with being on a sports star’s arm. It was easier to avoid both of them. Sawyer had enough people in his life who wanted something from him. He had no desire to have Alyssa—or her team—be part of that.

He swallowed a mouthful of pasta. “I’m bringing a date.”

Lynette’s eyes went wide. “You certainly are full of surprises, Sawyer.” He caught the sly smile on her lips before she took another bite.

Yeah. He was even surprising himself.