Free Home Run Baby: A Sports Romance by Tabatha Kiss

eyes with the tip of her pinky. “I like you.”
    “Thanks.”
    She spins on her stiletto heels and walks out of the motel lobby. I pause for a moment, slightly confused before I rush to follow her into the parking lot with my suitcase dragging behind me. She flicks her car keys from her purse and pops the trunk, throwing it open and stepping to the side like it’s some treasure chest or something.
    “Here’s your gear, Daisy,” she says. “Don’t break it.”
    I blink for a second, recognizing the logos from only my most insane, dream wish lists. I practically salivate at the DSLR camera, along with four different lenses to pick and choose from.
    “I assume you know how to use them?” she asks, studying the shock in my face.
    “Oh, of course,” I say, partially lying. I bend down and grab the camera case, along with the extra one beside it full of other gear and memory cards labeled property of SI in tiny, stamped letters.
    “The article will mainly focus on Mr. Novak but feel free to catch some candids of the team when you can. If you must include me in a shot, only shoot from my left side, please.”
    “No problem.”
    “Well, go ahead and get that fired up. The team is boarding the bus.”
    I glance over my shoulder, catching sight of the team as they slowly make their way out of the motel rooms with their duffel bag slung over their shoulders. Reality takes hold of me, rattling my bones, and I wonder just when it’ll all come crashing down. Part of me thinks I’m just going to wake up in that hospital bed with a splitting headache and none of this would have ever happened.
    I see Hunter before Trisha does, walking out of his room with his head down, shadows falling over his face as the early-afternoon sun strikes his baseball cap.
    “Oh, there he is !” she squeals. “Come on.”
    I panic for a second, searching the camera exterior for an on-switch as I trail slowly behind her. Luckily, I find it and flick it on before we reach Hunter.
    “Home Run Hunter!” Trisha slides out in front of him, forcing him to stop before crashing into her.
    He throws on a smile for her and nods. “Ms. Wells.”
    I raise the camera and adjust the focus on his chiseled face before snapping my very first picture of him.
    Hunter reacts to the shutter sound and he spots me standing behind Trisha. He smiles at me, his lips spreading even wider than they did for Trisha. “Hey, Daisy.”
    “Hey, Hunter,” I greet.
    Trisha clears her throat and motions for me to move to her left side. I slide over, quickly remembering her “good” angle as I ready the camera again. “So, Hunter,” she says, hooking her arm around his. “Are you as eager to get started as I am?”
    I pause, watching to see if Hunter will slip free of her but he just keeps walking with her pace. My finger clicks a few successive photos of the two of them, each one drawing his eyes my way. He fires a wink at me and I smile behind the camera.
    “Yes, Ms. Wells,” he answers her.
    “Oh, please, honey,” she coos. “Call me Trisha . We’re going to be very close by the end of this season. Might as well get on first name terms right now.”
    “Okay, Trisha…”
    I linger behind them, snapping a few shots of the bus and other players before joining up with them.
    “By the way,” I hear her say, “everything you say to me is on the record unless you tell me otherwise beforehand.”
    “I’ll keep that in mind,” he says.
    She leans in a little closer and I lose track of her voice as it drifts into his ear. Finally, he steps out of her grasp and offers her a kind smile as he moves away to load his bag into the side with the rest of the team’s luggage.
    “Daisy!”
    I twitch at her sudden bark. Trisha flags me closer and I pick up my pace to catch up. “Yeah?”
    “How well do you know him?” she asks me, peeking at me over her pink frames.
    “Uh…” I chuckle. “Somewhere between not very well and kind of . Why?”
    “Just hoping you can