Chapter One

September

Rachel Persopoulos didn’t believe in love at first sight. In fact, she was skeptical on the entire concept of love—especially love conquering all. In her experience, love was much more likely to be an excuse for patently idiotic behavior than it was to be the cause for any triumphant happily-ever-after. Men lied, women believed them, idiocy ensued. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Which was why there was absolutely no logical explanation for the fact that Rachel Leigh Persopoulos, Founder and President of the Colorado Chapter of Romantic Cynics R Us, was completely, stupidly, head-over-heels in love.

It was all Cam’s fault.

He wasn’t the man of her dreams. There were no men in her dreams. Her dreams were much too practical for that. She was a planner, and she had a five-year plan to become Colorado’s premiere event coordinator—starting with her interview tomorrow for TD Events and culminating when she opened her own event planning business. Maybe someday she’d even take it national, but she wouldn’t need a man to do it.

All her life she’d seen her mother rely on men, believe in men, and be disappointed by men. She wasn’t going to be her mother.

Luckily, Cam was nothing like her father. Well, they were both professional athletes—which had given her pause at first—but three-and-a-half weeks into the best September of her life, she knew now that was where any similarity ended.

He was funny. He was charming—and okay, yes, her father had been those things too, but Cam was also honest. Blunt and unashamed. He simply said whatever he was thinking and took the consequences. So confident in who he was, so comfortable making mistakes, letting them roll right off him—which for a perfectionist like Rachel was a novel concept.

They were so different—but he was everything she hadn’t realized she’d always needed.

She’d always thought her mother was unbearably naïve for trusting her father, but here she was, falling for someone. Trusting him. Loving him.

Love.

It was such a weird word. She loved her mother. She loved her grandmother. But she’d never said it to a man before. Never even thought it about a man before.

He’d said it this morning. The L word.

“You don’t have to say it back,” he’d murmured, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “I just knew if I didn’t tell you I’d spend all day wishing I had and if I’m distracted thinking about you, how am I going to focus on destroying the Diamondbacks?”

His grin had been so easy, that cocky confident smile that had wormed its way into her heart.

“I guess I might be somewhat fond of you,” she’d teased—and he’d laughed, his mouth still curved when he started kissing her senseless.

And it did feel like she’d lost all her sense. Such a cliché. The girl who didn’t believe in love falling harder than anyone.

She glanced down at the numbers on her ticket. She’d never been interested in sports, but she’d recently started learning her way around ballpark seating charts. Being whisked off to San Francisco for a weekend series wasn’t a bad baseball initiation, but this was her first home game and it felt more real somehow. Less like a fairy tale getaway and more like it could actually be real life.

The causeways were crowded even though the game wouldn’t start for another twenty minutes. Cam had said it wasn’t always like this, but playoff fever had gripped the city and now every game was humming with excitement. They were “in the hunt”—a fact local sports reporters kept attributing to Cam’s electric September, though he changed the channel any time anyone mentioned his streak, muttering direly about jinxes when anyone dared speak the words “free agency.”

Still, Rachel had heard enough to know that he was on the brink of something big. Something that might mean a major pay raise and a move to LA.

She knew he was worried it would all go up in smoke—baseball players took superstition to new levels—so they hadn’t talked about LA. But she’d started to think about California. She’d told herself she would never be the kind of woman who made major life decisions because of a guy, but there had to be even more opportunities for event planners in LA than there were in Denver and Boulder. Somebody had to run all those fancy Hollywood premieres and after parties. Why not her?

Rachel had never been impulsive, but with Cam it didn’t feel like a risk. It felt like all the little cogs of her life clicking neatly into place. As soon as she’d let herself fall for him, everything had fallen together. Cam would get the free agent deal he wasn’t letting himself hope for, she would be the next big thing in event planning, and maybe in a few years, when her career was on steady footing, they could think about starting the big family part of her had always secretly wanted.

He called her his good luck charm, attributing all his September success to her, but she knew he worked harder than anyone else. He deserved this. And so did she, dang it. Hadn’t she earned a little perfect in her life?

The crowd swelled around her and Rachel stepped out of the way of what looked to be an entire Little League team—nearly bumping into a table that had been set up at the edge of the concourse.

“Whoops! Watch out, honey.”

A tall, slim woman caught her arm, steadying her when she would have stumbled into a massive display of baseball souvenirs. “Sorry.” She glanced at the woman, smiling ruefully. “I’m not used to these crowds.”

“No harm done. Buy a raffle ticket and all is forgiven.” She flashed a smile to show she was joking. Stunningly gorgeous from her perfectly made up face to the thick curls tumbling around her shoulders, she was wearing a team jersey and standing in front of a banner reading Rockies Wives Charities.

Rachel flushed, suddenly nervous as she realized this must be the wife of one of Cam’s teammates. She hadn’t met any of them yet. Everything between her and Cam was so new. They’d been existing in their own little romance bubble for the last three weeks—families, friends, all of that would come later.

Now, apparently.

“I’m Rachel.” She extended a hand, feeling underdressed in the oversized jersey Cam had given her to wear with her hair tugged into a sloppy ponytail beneath a purple Rockies cap. The one day she didn’t do her hair.

“Marta Cruz. Second base.” Marta smiled easily, shaking her hand and then gesturing back to the table. ”Care to check out some of our silent auction items? We have signed baseballs, signed jerseys that were worn in actual games, you name it. The auctions close in the seventh inning and all proceeds go to support local charities.”

Rachel’s gaze caught on another woman behind the table wearing a “Cole” jersey with a giant number five on the back. It wasn’t the first one she’d seen. Cam must be one of the most popular players, if the jerseys were anything to go by. But this one was pink—and the gorgeous blonde wearing it was also wearing a diamond ring the size of a small planet on her left hand.

Marta noticed the direction of her gaze and grinned. “That’s our fearless leader, Erika Cole. She’s responsible for organizing ninety percent of what you see here.”

Marta kept talking, but suddenly Rachel couldn’t hear her past the ringing in her ears. “Erika Cole?”

A sister. It had to be his sister. He’d said he had three. It couldn’t be…

“Our catcher’s wife.” Marta beamed, oblivious to the havoc she was wreaking on Rachel’s equilibrium as the bottom fell out of her world. “I see you’re wearing a Cam jersey. Big fan? Erika’s the sweetest. I’m sure she’d be happy to talk to you. And I think we have a couple of signed Cam items in the silent auction today—”

Marta turned toward the table—

—and Rachel dove back into the crowd, moving fast.

She didn’t know where she was going. Away. Anywhere but here. She couldn’t breathe and pressed a hand to her chest. Her heart was pounding—a heart attack. She might actually be having a heart attack. A panic attack was more likely, but did panic attacks feel like a three ton weight had just been slammed on top of your chest?

He was married.

Of course he was.

No wonder she hadn’t met his family and friends. No wonder he’d only invited her to the away games before today.

Did his wife know about the condo where Rachel had woken up with him this morning? Where did she think he’d spent last night? Rachel spun to march back to the fundraiser table in a fit of sisterhood to tell his wife the truth—but she’d gotten turned around in the crowd and couldn’t figure out where she’d been.

And then the tears were blurring her vision so much that she couldn’t see anything at all. Swarms of people surged around her as the PA system boomed over the ringing in her ears, announcing the line-up, “Batting fourth, the catcher, CAMERON COLE!”

The crowd responded with a roar and Rachel reeled, slapping a hand over her mouth as her stomach revolted. She stumbled into a bathroom, blindly finding her way to a stall and locking herself inside, struggling to keep her sobs silent and her breakfast in her stomach. I will not make a scene. I will not make a scene. She wasn’t her mother, damn it. She was the calm one. The rational one. She whispered the words over and over in her head like a mantra—but they didn’t stop the other words that wanted to drown them out.

He’d made her a mistress.

Just like her mother. She’d sworn she wouldn’t be that brand of stupid. She’d told Cam about her past, about her father and his lies. He’d been sympathetic, the asshole. He’d worked so freaking hard to earn her trust—and she’d been so certain that he wouldn’t put in all that work if he wasn’t on the level. That no baseball player who could crook his finger and have a new girl every night of the week would bother with someone who made him work as hard as Rachel had. Not if he wasn’t the real deal. Not if he had a wife at home.

She shouldn’t have trusted him. Emotion caught in her throat and she stifled a sob.

She fished out her phone. He wouldn’t have his on him. He left it in the locker room during games. He wouldn’t know for hours that he’d been found out.

Unless this was what he’d wanted when he invited her to this game. He had to know his wife would be there.

His wife.

She’d thought they were building something together. She’d started dreaming about a future with him. God, she’d been so stupid.

She typed the words—the only two words she would give the asshole before she blocked his number and evicted him from her thoughts. The only two words that were echoing through her head. Her throat burning and moisture streaking tracks down her cheeks, she hit send.

It’s over.