Riggs

TWENTY-THREE

MONROE

I rush through stadium security, the still-wet underside of my hair brushing along my back as I hurriedly run to my seat. As much as I enjoyed the luxury seating and easy access to food in the WAGs' suite, I'd rather be near the field. I did my job up there last time as Riggs' fake girlfriend, spending some quality time with Mr. Durst and showing him how serious this relationship really is. Hopefully, he bought it, and the idea of making a trade with another team is off the table.

To be honest, none of this has felt like acting for weeks. Riggs and I have long forgotten the animosity that used to hang in the air between us, and although we haven't talked about what we are, I can tell that we're not just doing this for show anymore. He's treating this like we're real, and I'm struggling to keep myself from doing the same.

On one hand, I know I'm about to become a business owner, and I need to focus on that until I establish a decent clientele and make a name for myself. Also, I left Rolling Hills to live life for myself, without having to answer to anyone else. So, should I even be considering a relationship at all?

It's all so confusing, and my head and heart haven't stopped battling each other since I realized he's nothing like I thought he was. I expected to move here and dread being near him every day, needing to dig into my old bag of tricks to convince outsiders that we actually liked each other. I did it with Conrad for so long that I knew I could pull the wool over people's eyes long enough to take the heat off Riggs. But other than the first week or so when I refused to admit that he still had a little bit of a hold on me, everything I've said and done has been genuine.

There's no need to act like I'm crazy about him…because I am.

And it scares the shit out of me.

I know there's no easy answer here. If I stay, I'll feel like I left home for nothing, even though Riggs hasn't given me a single reason to believe he'd ever try to control me. Is he the most possessive man I've ever met? Yes. But do I really think he'd keep me from doing whatever the fuck I wanted? No. Not really. He's been completely supportive of the things I've been doing since I got here, but in the back of my mind, I'll always wonder if that'll change.

On the other hand, I already know it wouldn't be easy to leave. As much as I've spent the last couple of years convincing myself that Riggs Valentine is nothing but a selfish manwhore who never takes anyone else's feelings and desires into consideration, I can't hide behind that anymore. I'm forced to face the way my heart and body gravitate to him. How he's shown me that he knows exactly what I need, and that he'll do whatever it takes to give it to me.

What a nice little mess you've created for yourself, Monroe.

Well. Fucking. Done.

Thankfully, I don't have much time for self-loathing today, making my way down to my seat on the third baseline just as the team begins funneling out onto the field. I wait in anticipation, staring at the entrance to the dugout for number fifty-seven to make his appearance. Butterfly wings tickle the inside of my stomach, and I wring my hands together in an attempt to contain my excitement until he finally comes into view.

As if he knows I'm impatiently awaiting his attention, his gaze finds me immediately, and an ear-to-ear grin blooms across his face. Although he probably isn't really supposed to be focusing on anything happening off the field, he runs my way, and the butterflies go into fangirl mode, flapping around so hard that I almost lose my breath.

"Hey there, Mayhem," he says, looking up at me as I lean over the railing, trying to get closer to him. "I almost thought you weren't going to come. I looked out here three times, only to find an empty seat."

I laugh. "Yeah, well somebody let me sleep in. If it weren't for your sister incessantly calling me for our weekly gossip session, I'd probably still be unconscious in your bed."

"Hmmm," he says, as if he's mentally conjuring up the visual. "That might be fun to play around with." My eyes go wide, and I look around to make sure nobody is within earshot, but I have to admit that the thought of giving him permission to fuck me while I sleep wakes up a dull throb between my thighs.

"Stop looking at me like that, sweet thing," he says, snapping me out of my fantasy. "These pants are way too tight to be thinking about what I could get away with in that situation."

Jesus Tapdancing Christ, this man's mouth is lethal.

"Valentine!" Ace yells from where he's waiting behind home plate. "Let's go!"

Riggs looks back at him, giving a tight nod before taking a few steps back and climbing the wall just like he did the first time I sat here. He holds the railing with one hand, using the other to cup my cheek. I can feel several sets of eyes on us as he slowly leans in, gently pressing his lips to mine in a sweet kiss. I know he wants to deepen it—because so do I—but I'm sure there are a bunch of cameras pointed our way. We have to keep things PG in front of everyone.

He pulls away, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I'll see you in a bit, baby," he says quietly before dropping back down to the grass and running toward the mound. My pulse is racing, and a silly smile is plastered across my face as I turn to my seat, stopping when I hear a small giggle come from beside me.

"Your boyfriend is really cute," a little girl, no more than eight years old, says shyly. "You're so lucky."

I turn, looking back to where Riggs is warming up, firing pitches into Ace's waiting mitt. As if he feels my stare, he glances over his shoulder, shooting me a sexy wink.

"Yeah, I am," I reply, and even with all the uncertainty I'm feeling, that's the one thing I'm completely sure of .

RIGGS

"That's how we do it, boys!" I yell as we make our way into the locker room. I pitched seven innings and although my shoulder is screaming, I feel amazing after beating the New York Imperials by five runs. My guys' bats were on fire, and we all played the field like the well-oiled machine I know we are.

"We going out to celebrate tonight?" Ace says, sitting down next to me on the padded bench as the rest of the team yells and laughs around us. We have a night game tomorrow, which means we could hit the clubs tonight and sleep it off before we have to be back here in the afternoon. We do it all the time, but I'm done with that shit. I have better things to do.

"Nah," I reply, rotating my shoulder slowly to combat the cramp I feel coming on. "Gotta spend some quality time with my girl. I feel like I've barely seen her." Even though we were together all of last night, it just wasn't enough. It never is.

He whistles quietly. "I never thought I'd see the day where Riggs Valentine actually settled down. I'm a little disappointed that I won't get to be your wingman anymore, but I have to say…being in love looks good on you, my guy."

I snap my head up, eyes wide as I look at him like he's speaking a different language. At first, I want to deny it. Tell him that's not what this is. But I can't bring myself to actually spit out the words.

Normally the thought of committing myself to the same girl for longer than one night would scare the shit out of me. I've enjoyed living the single life. It was easy to move from woman to woman, never worrying about anyone's feelings getting involved because they all knew the score. I never allowed myself to think about a future with any of them because I was never willing to put my heart on the line. But with Monroe?

She can fucking have it. It's all hers if she wants it.

As much time as we lost being mad at each other, I can't even pretend like we haven't fallen into something since she moved to Daytona. I was stupid to think I'd get through this without my feelings getting involved, blurring the lines of our arrangement. I was lying to myself every time I said I hated her. I was masking the hurt from her rejection with animosity, and even though deep down I knew it never really felt right, I thought I could keep that going while she was here. If anything, I figured I could continue matching her energy until this thing was over and we could go our separate ways.

But now…there's no fucking way I ever could. I want her. For real .

I'm falling in love with Monroe Decker.

I shake my head at the revelation, huffing a laugh—because holy shit— before standing to quickly pull my uniform off. I just want to hit the showers, see the trainer, and get the fuck out of here so I can finally talk to my girl. As risky as it is to bring this up when we agreed to keep this thing professional, I feel like I might explode if we don't sort it all out.

I just hope it doesn't blow up in my face when I lay it all on the table for her.