Elevator Pitch

Meeting Ross Davis, professional baseball coach and my sports crush, is a funny story involving a stalled elevator, the potty dance, and an attempt to get into his hotel suite. In my defense, that last one was an accident.

He came to my room instead with a bottle of scotch and a sad soul.

My one night was not a stand, but more like a lie-in. As in, we snuggled and talked and not another thing happened.

Nothing surprises me more than seeing him again when he becomes the manager of the Chicago Anchors, my hometown team, and our paths intersect once more.

This is where the story gets fuzzy, because Ross Davis, that sexy silver fox, has a proposal for me.

Baseball players are notoriously superstitious, and Ross is somehow convinced I'm his good luck charm. One who brings him success by sleeping with him.

Only sleeping.

The problem with this arrangement begins when those funny, fuzzy things called feelings get involved. Eventually, his elevator pitch is no longer an easy walk in the ballpark or a simple sleepover in my bed.

And I'm worried I'll be the one left in the outfield when the season ends.