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  Eddie kicks my ass in reps, before slamming the bar back down as his phone rings.

  He glances at it, and groans. “Speak of the devil.”

  He wipes the sweat off his forehead before answering, sounding like an eager schoolboy as he says hello.

  I have to admit, while Eddies wife may be a little on the crazy side, he’s a lot of crazy about her. They are one of the few couples who really have it. They are actually in love with each other, and are both faithful. Unlike some of the other guys who are married on the team, Eddie never partakes in the hook-ups that seem to come with the job.

  He is in love with his wife, with his children, and he wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize that.

  Eddie is lucky, because what he has in this industry is not common at all. I’ve heard horror stories from some of the guys who have been married or had serious relationships.

  It takes a lot to be a player’s wife, a whole level of trust that is hard to find in any relationship, but especially one that is constantly in the public eye.

  Last season, one of my teammates, Rick James, came home after the World Series only to find that his wife was having a threesome with two different dudes in his own damn bed. A few months later, he found out that their baby wasn’t even his. She had been sleeping around on him the entire time, claiming that it was his fault for being gone so much for work.

  The real kicker of the whole thing is, he was already in love and attached to the kid. So now, he pays a shit ton of money in alimony and child support just so that he has a little bit of visitation with him.

  It’s a complete level of fucked up that I can’t even imagine.

  I’m not in a place in my life where I’m ready to settle down, but hell. I would think long and hard about it before ever getting to that place with someone.

  I had my heart broken once, but luckily, there weren’t any kids or binding legal documents involved yet. Thank fucking god for that.

  And while Alexa did a number on my heart…at least she didn’t get the chance to attack my bank account, which seems to happen to these guys way too damn much.

  That’s why I am hell bent on staying single for a good long while. After just ending a year long relationship with my girlfriend Julia, I’m feeling that more so now than I ever have before.

  But our relationship was never that serious anyways, there was no talk of a future, of a ring, no need on my part to lock that shit down. It was more just a fun thing that stretched out over the course of a year.

  There wasn’t anything wrong with her, of course. She’s gorgeous, has a body meant for worshipping, she’s funny, and was an A+ in the sack. But there was always something missing from the relationship, and I could never quite put my finger on it.

  Maybe it was the fact that she was totally cool with us having an open-door policy. I’m not sure if that’s even what you would call it, but while we were exclusive, we weren’t always exclusive.

  Since we both traveled for our jobs, she took it upon herself to decide that we shouldn’t limit ourselves to just each other. Which at first? I thought was the coolest thing ever. But after a while of being able to have my cake and eat it too, it just got old, and I began to dislike the fact that while I had a “girlfriend”, it was totally ok for me to sleep with random chicks on the side.

  And it made me begin to wonder just how often she was doing the same.

  When she began traveling more often for her job as a model, and my traveling of course conflicted with any time together as well, we decided to call it quits for a while, and just see how it goes.

  So far? I haven’t missed her at all.

  “You want to spot me, Matthews?” Brock Edwards, our first baseman asks, plopping down on the weight bench.

  I nod, and help him adjust the weights. He’s bigger than me on my best day, and can out bench me all day, every day.

  He lifts fifty more pounds than I did with ease, barely breaking a sweat, before setting the bar back up. He sits on the edge of the bench, takes a big swig of water, and laughs.

  “Oh shit. Here comes our new mommy.”

  I watch as our new manager walks into the weight room, and bites her lip as she looks around. She quickly releases her lip, and her entire face changes, to one of pure granite.

  “What was her name again?” I ask him, and he shrugs.

  “Hell if I know. I just hope she turns out to be as much fun as the last one.” He grins wickedly, and I can only shake my head.

  “You’re a dog, you know that, right?”

  He barks in response, grinning wide, making me roll my eyes.

  Every single “Mommy” that we’ve had, have all been passed around pretty easily. It’s almost funny to me that our owner keeps hiring women to do this job, since, obviously it never works out.

  Obviously, none of us like having to answer to a mom, especially not when we’re out on the road. So, we devised a plan a long time ago to get rid of them quickly.

  By we, of course, I mean the rest of the team. I have certainly never taken any part in their plans. To me, it just seems messed up.

  Don’t get me wrong, I hate having to answer to anyone, and frankly, it appears most of them have been hired for the sole purpose of just being around us. They seem just as star struck as any fan in the stands during our games.

  But, the rest of the guys take turns swooning them, fucking them, and then of course, firing them. All consecutively, and all damn easy.

  Bah bye mom.

  “Whose taking this one?” I hear asked behind me, as Brent Jamison comes up to our group.

  “Not it.” Eddie answers, making us all roll our eyes. Of course he’s not it. He’s married for fucks sake.

  “I nominate Jake.”

  I spin around, glaring at him. “What? Why me?”

  Brent just shrugs and grins. “Why not you? You worried that you can’t bag her?”

  My turn to roll my eyes. “I could bag anyone that I wanted to.”

  “Oh ho ho. That sounds like a bet if I’ve ever heard one.” Brock turns between Brent and Eddie and raises his eyebrows. Eric Wayne sits up from his bench and cocks his head in our direction.

  “Jakey’s taking this one? Nice Matthews, real nice.” He grins at me, and I just narrow my eyes.

  “Timeframe?” Brock asks, turning his head to the rest of the guys.

  “Wait, hold up, I didn’t agree to this...” My words fall upon deaf ears. They sit, contemplating the rules of this game, as I sit and just shake my head.

  “You need this. Have you banged anyone since you and Julia split?”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  Brent rolls his eyes. “So that’s a no.” He turns his attention back to our new Mommy, before nodding his head. “She looks tougher than the last two. You get one month from today to seal the deal.”

  “What are the terms?” Eddie asks, looking way too excited to be a part of this.

  Brent seems to contemplate this, before a smug smile crosses his face.

  “Free beer for a year.”

  “A year? You’re fucking crazy.”

  “Nervous ole boy?”

  I turn my attention back to the blond in front. Her entire demeanor screams fuck off, from her knee length black fitted skirt, to her black and white polka dot blouse buttoned all the way to the top and black suit jacket. Her blond hair is tied tightly into a ballerina bun, her lush lips pursed as she stares us down, with a curled-up nose.

  She’s definitely hot, in a bad teacher kind of way, but while I will never admit it, she looks hard to get. Really hard to get.

  “Hell no. What do I get if I win?”

  They all glance around at each other, before Brent grins wide.

  “Your pick of any locker.”

  My eyebrows raise, as I look at Eddie, who pales even with his tanned Latino skin.

  “No, no no no. Hell no.” He shakes his head furiously, as everyone laughs.

  “Yes. C’mon Eddie, lighten up.” Brock say
s, smacking him on the shoulder. Eddie has been with this team the longest, and has slowly moved his way up to the best locker in the whole locker room.

  “Hell no. This all doesn’t even affect me. I’m not the one who runs around acting like an asshole.” He mutters, crossing his arms.

  “Nah. I don’t want a damn locker.” I tell him, as he breathes a sigh of relief.

  “All you fuckers have to wear my name and number for a week. That’s the deal. I win, you all become my bitches.”

  Arms all cross, and glares level at me.

  “A day.” Brock interjects.

  “Two.” I counter, and they all sigh.

  “Fine. Two days. Deal.”

  “For those of you that don’t remember me, I’m Laci.” Mom says, stepping into the middle of the room.

  “And I have been hired to apparently keep all of you clowns in line.”

  All our attention snaps to her, and several grunts of disgust are heard loud and clear.

  “While I find it odd that a group of grown men need a babysitter, still, after just a few minutes of research on your team, it’s obvious that you do.” She scans the room, crossing her arms and looking down her nose at all of us.

  “So, here I am. First off, let me lay out the ground rules. I’ve become aware that you like to make a game out of who sleeps with “Mommy” first,” she makes little quotation marks in the air with her fingers, making everyone glare even harder, “In order to get her fired. I will tell you,” her eyes cut at us and her lips curl. “That I under no circumstances will I be interested in any of you, so please get that out of your heads right now. I’m here to help you, to mold you in the public eye, to something of a hero. Someone for kids to look up to, instead of having to look down on you. May I remind you,” she steps further into the room, her arms remaining crossed. “That forty percent of your fans are under the age of 15. That leaves you guys with quite the job to do, quite the image to keep, and frankly, you all suck at it.”

  “The nerve of her…” Brock mutters, his face turning red.

  “I’m not here to make friends, I’m here to do my job. So, you do yours, and let me do mine, and there should be zero issues.” She finishes, scanning the room.

  “Aw, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone’s feelings?” She bites, before breaking out into a full smile.

  “Ok, so now that we got all of that out of the way, let me tell you my plans.”

  “Your food options here stink. You are all professional athletes, and I expect the food to be up to that standard. I have eliminated all of the junk.”

  Groans break out, making her glance around.

  “What? You guys like the processed crap they were feeding you?”

  Everyone nods, making her roll her eyes. “Well, I think you will like the new options. I have had them all prepared for you, and they will be ready in the banquet room in approximately one hour, when practice is finished. Try them, let me know what you think, and of course, I’m here for any questions or concerns.”

  She turns on her heel, giving me a beautiful view of a perfect ass, before strutting to the door.

  “Oh.” She spins back around, flashing us a big smile.

  “I almost forgot the most important change.”

  My stomach drops as her smile widens, and I know whatever it is won’t be good.

  “Your partying on the road will cease to exist. Your sleeping with random women at every stop will be extinct as well. We are overhauling your reputation, and I expect full adherence to the new policies. From now on, you will each be sleeping alone in your hotel rooms. No more hookers, three ways, sleeping with whatever woman you want. I will be there at each game to assure this. In your free time here, if you so choose to sleep around, I’m not going to stop you. I mean, if catching STD’s in your thing then by all means, keep up your current pace. But.” She pulls out a stack of papers from her briefcase and passes them to Eric Wayne, our catcher to pass around to us. “These are non-disclosure papers. Your play thing will sign this, before you pull your dicks out, and basically, it legally requires her to be silent about any and all sexual acts that you encounter with said person. If I find out that you engaged in any sexual activity without these being signed, you will be fined. Ten thousand dollars.”

  Everyone’s jaw drops so low I swear I hear them hitting the ground.

  “Also,” She says with a smug grin. “If you are late or miss a practice, the fine stands too. Five thousand for being late, ten thousand for a no call, no show.”

  She shrugs and turns on her heel.

  “Good day, gentleman.”

  The sneer in her voice is totally detectable.

  The door closes behind her, and the gym is quieter than it’s ever been, as we all try to pick our jaws up off the floor.

  “That bitch can’t be serious!” Eric exclaims, glancing at the paper and then around the room.

  “She’s fucking nuts.” I hear muttered from the other side.

  “Ten grand?” someone else groans.

  “No worries, fellas. Jakey boy here has agreed to be the go to man for this job.” Brock exclaims, patting me on the shoulder. “Good luck man. You’re gonna need it.”

  My stomach sinks.

  The very last thing that I want to do is be the guy to have to try to swoon a woman for a bet. It’s not my style at all, and never has been.

  While these guys have all made a game out of sleeping with our new “Mommies” in the past, I have never partaken in it.

  I mean, for real. If my mother ever caught wind of this, she would kill me. Kick my ass all the way from South Carolina back home to Georgia. And I might be double her size, but still.

  She is scary when she’s pissed.

  Yet now, the entire weight of the issue lands on me, right on my shoulders. And while I’m not comfortable with the bet, still.

  No way am I going to pussy out of this. I’ll just have to do my best to quickly seal this deal and move on before anyone finds out about it.

  Game on.

  “Uh, miss?” Fuck, I already forgot her name. It wasn’t mentioned again, since everyone has now called her something entirely different.

  Cockblocker, Queen Cunt, plus a few others that shouldn’t be mentioned.

  She looks up from her desk, as I step inside of her office and shut the door behind me. Her eyes widen, as I take a step towards her, causing her to rise.

  “You don’t have to…” my words trail off, as my eyes roam her now standing body.

  Fuck me.

  I’ve gotten a few good looks at her, the very first day in the locker room when I dropped my towel in front of her, and then yesterday in the gym, but today she looks different.

  Her hair that is usually in tight bun on her head is hanging down in golden blond waves that tumble down her back. Her usual stuffy suit is replaced with faded jeans and a white flowy shirt that dips down off both shoulders.

  She doesn’t look uptight like she usually does, and it stops me in my tracks.

  Because hell.

  She’s stunning.

  She clears her throat loudly. “I’m sorry, I don’t have much time today to chat, I was just about to head out for the day.”

  “That’s ok. This will be quick. Do you have a hot date to get to or something?” I give her my best grin, the one that drives women nuts, or at least, so they say. But she doesn’t bat her eyes at me like most women do though. Instead, her eyes narrow as she points to the chair in front of her desk.

  Ok, so my normal charm isn’t going to work on her. I’m going to have to turn it up a notch.

  “Have a seat Jake.”

  I cock my head, surprised that she knows who I am. I immediately smile, making her scowl.

  “You know my name.” My smile widens as I sit down across from her, and she takes her seat again, before clasping her hands on her desk and glancing down at me.

  “Yes, of course I do. You are Jake Matthews, the starting shortstop. You were recruited from G
eorgia State, during your sophomore year of college by the Georgia Devils. You spent less than a season on their farm team before being brought up to the pros. You were recruited last season by the Rays, for the highest amount ever paid to a professional ball player on this roster. You have earned the nickname Brick House, because nothing typically gets past you on the field. You also lead the league in stolen bases, well, at least you did last year. You also have an astonishingly good batting average, coming in just under four hundred for last season.”

  My grin widens, as she totally is ruffling my feathers right now.

  “Yep…” I start, ready to brag myself up when she cuts me off.

  “You are also one of the main reasons that I’m here. While you shine on the field, you have a bad reputation in pretty much every other area. You’re known for your partying, and your womanizing. Women like to brag about the size of your dick in gossip magazines. Last year, you choked in the World Series, missing a line drive right to you, one that a five-year-old could have caught, all because you were too hung over from the night before to react. While it didn’t end up being the reason that you lost the series, still. It was a pivotal moment, and made a lot of people wonder why your pay grade is so much higher than the other players who actually went out there and played.” Her eyes level with mine. “Word on the street is that you have lost some of the magic that you had last season, since your batting has been crap since the start of the preseason. But, all of that is yet to be determined. That’s just what people are saying.” She gives me a snide smile before shrugging her shoulders. “Also, you just recently ended a relationship with a supermodel, who you were rumored to have cheated on at every away game last season.”

  I nearly choke as she spits her words at me, and every bit of the charm that I was about to sprinkle her way is gone. Disintegrated. Out the freaking window.

  I open my mouth to reply, but she waves me off, and continues her rant.

  “So, let me guess. They sent you as the sacrificial lamb? Or did you volunteer, thinking that you could charm me with your wit?”

  “I, ah..” I’m at a loss for words, which is totally uncommon for me. I’ve always got something to say, but for real. Can this woman be any more of a bitch?