Clutch Endgame Page 10

  “How long do we have to choose?”

  “This is my final year with the Hornets. Next season, we may be in another city. Whatever I choose, I want you to be with me. I want this decision to be our decision, something that we make together.” I didn’t let go of the fact that she said ‘we’.

  “Do you know where you want to go?” She hiccups.

  “Where we want to go, you mean? We will have to weigh each option carefully. But we’re not in any rush. Each team is aware that it’s not a simple decision- so I have time. But in the meantime, I will have the teams likely romancing me and judging my performances during this season until I choose.”

  “So today was a bunch of crazy for the both of us,” she observes as she sits back against the couch cushions.

  “It appears so.” I agree with her.

  “Should we drink to our choices?”

  “Our choices?” I ask.

  “You know, of where we’re going to live next year.”

  “You’re in?” I ask her.

  “I go where you go. We’ll choose together and face the change as a team.”

  ELEVEN

  SAWYER

  BOSTON, Arizona or Seattle.

  Those are the three choices that we have to go with.

  I’m terrified with whatever we choose, because that means I have to start over again. I need to make sure that I keep whom I am intact and wherever we choose to move, I find a comparable job in the marketing field and just hope that I find something.

  Boston, Arizona or Seattle.

  We have so much to think about.

  It’s been four months since the start of the baseball season and Gunnar has been wined and dined by teams at every avenue possible. We have had many expensive dinners and have received several gift baskets, and enough team gear that we could dress a whole family.

  The new accounts that I had acquired at work weren’t as bad as I originally thought. I had three new accounts and while they aren’t as glamorous as working with the Hornets, they are providing ample experience that I’m hoping that I can take with me on my next adventure, wherever and whatever that may be.

  I’m terrified of the unknown. But I have proved over the past few months that I can start over and do well with change.

  Do I like it?

  Who really does?

  But I know that I can accomplish whatever is handed over to me.

  Especially with Gunnar by my side.

  “HONEY! I’M HOME!” I shout as soon as I shut the door.

  “In here.” Gunnar yells from our bedroom.

  I walk in and he’s packing his duffel bag for his next away series.

  “What time do you fly out?” I ask leaning against the doorway as I take off my shoes.

  “Bent is picking me up tonight around ten. We have a red-eye.”

  “Denver, right?” I confirm while nodding.

  “Yeah and then you’ll meet me in Arizona, right? We’ll do some research?” He looks over his shoulder.

  “You got it.” I give him a thumb up.

  He pulls his duffel off the bed and motions for me to come closer. I sashay exaggeratedly toward him and drape my arms around his neck. His hands fasten around my lower back and I look up to him with an affectionate smile.

  “What’s cooking good looking?” I playfully ask.

  “I want to do things to you,” he whispers.

  “Oh really? How original of a come on line.” I roll my eyes in jest.

  “How about this? I want you naked, and ready to ride my face. Then I want you on this bed with your ass up ready for me. I want you to beg for my cock and scream my name.”

  “That’s so much better Mr. Reynolds.”

  “Well? What are you waiting for? Clothes. Off. Now.” He directs.

  I do as he says, and remove my work clothes, piece by piece as he discards his own clothing as well. Our eyes stay locked on one another until I am on the bed, waiting for him. He growls as he lays on the bed. I wait for him to settle and then drape my legs over him, situating myself directly above his face.

  His hands grasp my thighs as he brings my pussy to his mouth.

  Swipe.

  Swipe.

  Swipe.

  His tongue lashes out against me, sending a shudder through my body at the contact. It’s not long that with his tongue massaging my clit that I come undone and slam my hand against the wall for support as I see colors behind my eyelids. My thighs quiver as I come down from the high of my orgasm with my mouth dry and my heart racing.

  Gunnar pulls my body down and against his cock. He fists himself as I lean up on my knees and sink down onto him. We groan in unison as he stretches me. His hands roam over my body worshipping me as my hips roll.

  “I need you to ride me before I take you from behind. I need to feel you and have you come on my cock while you look into my eyes,” he breathes out.

  I nod as I slide up and down on him. He leans up and takes my breast into his mouth. His tongue twisting with my nipple and then nipping at the bud and pulling it slightly as I get my fill of him.

  “Fuck, you feel so good.” He groans as he takes me by the hips and starts to move me. He drags his length in and out, to where my clit is included in the contact.

  I’m panting and whimpering in response as he takes control. I’m putty to his touch and soon I’m erupting again under his watchful gaze. My whole world is spinning as I come for the second time in a short amount of time.

  Once I open my eyes and slow my movements, I have a lazy smile on my face and know exactly what is coming next.

  Gunnar slaps my ass with his right hand. “Up,” he directs.

  He positions himself behind me, grabs me by the hips and lifts me up to the perfect angle. He takes me; plunges in and out of me in rapid succession to chase his own release.

  The air crackles with the sounds of our movements, the bed creaks and the breaths are quick and sharp. The rhythm of his hips thrusting into me as he then drapes himself over my body, his arm wrapping around my middle as he grinds himself into me, his lips meet my skin and I know he’s on the brink of his own release. He slams himself into me deeper and then with a final thrust, he groans into my skin.

  He stays still for a moment and then slides out of me, releasing my body but peppering my back with kisses, and a nip of his teeth against my ass. Tenderly laying kisses across my back.

  He disappears, with my body feeling drained and suddenly empty. But returns a moment later with a washcloth and begins to delicately clean me up as he kneels on the ground.

  “I love you Sawyer,” he whispers.

  “And I love you Gunnar.”

  “Fuck. You better.” He winks as he gets up to return the washcloth to the bathroom.

  I grab the pillow behind me and toss it after him, earning a shake of the head and a laugh as he turns the corner.

  TWELVE

  GUNNAR

  OUR SERIES AGAINST DENVER SUCKED. We lost all three games and the team was feeling uninspired, even I was feeling uninspired. We were boarding the plane to Arizona, with my earbuds in my ears, my pocket vibrates and instead of The Ramones, the ringtone for Sawyer enters my ears.

  “Hello?” I answer.

  “So, I’m already here in Arizona and I just wanted to mention that it’s hotter than hell here,” she says quickly.

  “I can barely breathe here in Denver, the altitude here is bullshit. I’m so fucking glad that I’m about to get in the air and get the hell out of here.”

  “When do you take off?” She asks.

  “Just getting on the plane.” I say ducking my head and smiling at the flight attendant. “Walking down the aisle. Smiling.” I smile at one of the managers sitting in the front of the plane. “And now, I’m going to sit down in my seat.”

  “Gee, thanks for the play by play,” she replies dryly.

  “I do what I can. Are you meeting up with the other ladies for the event tomorrow night?” I ask.

  The wives and gi
rlfriends of both the Hornets and Arizona’s team, the Gila Monsters are putting on a luncheon, something some of the different franchises try to do a few times a year. There is a charity event that occurs on a monthly basis and both Sawyer and I keep ourselves busy with doing something.

  “Yeah, I have to meet up with them after breakfast with you.”

  “Awesome. My flight will be getting into Phoenix in a few hours, I have to hit up the field, but if you want to find somewhere to eat dinner, make the reservations and I can meet you there.”

  “Sounds like a plan. I’ll see you soon.”

  “Try not to melt.” I laugh.

  JUNE IN PHOENIX is no joke.

  You don’t fuck with Arizona in the summer. And holy shit, compared to San Diego, even the east county of San Diego - Phoenix is no fucking joke with how damn hot it is.

  The positive is that it’s late in the afternoon and I’m just leaving the hotel to Scottsdale and the weather is just finally breathable and perfect at a comfortable seventy-eight degrees.

  My car pulls up to the curb of a small Italian restaurant and I make my way to the hostess podium and ask for the name that Sawyer always uses for our evenings out of Mr. and Mrs. Incredible. I’m escorted to our table and she stands as soon as she sees me. I kiss her cheek and squeeze her ass before taking my seat. Our backs are against the glass windows in the corner of the restaurant. Our table faces the rest of the restaurant, Which thankfully none of the patrons noticed or likely cared that a baseball player is in their midst, as it’s a regular occurrence since a lot of players have a home base here.

  “I found a house that I am absolutely in love with.” Sawyer tells me immediately with excitement.

  Shocked and confused, as I was under the assumption that she hated how hot it got here, I lean toward her.

  “I’m listening.” I prompt.

  “So, it’s in this area called Ahwatukee, which is just fun to say. Anyway, it’s just under three thousand square feet, the backyard cozies up to a wide-open space, it’s in a cul-de-sac. There are three bedrooms, two baths, a four-car garage, pool, fire pit, and single-ish level as it has a loft.” She expels with a smile.

  “So, out of the three - you would choose Arizona?” I ask her.

  “You wouldn’t need to move for Spring Training, and while it may be hot as hell here, I quite like the weather at nighttime. We could still have our condo in San Diego and stay there during the off-season. A lot of folks do that around here, it’s a term of snow birds or something.”

  “I think that means those who live in places that it snows, have a place in Arizona or something like that to avoid the snow. So then travel from their place during that time of the year.”

  “Okay, so your off-season is - say that you take Arizona to the Series - so Late October to February. The winter would be spent in San Diego.”

  “You’re saying that we have two residences?” I ask for clarification.

  “At least at first, so it doesn’t all feel like such a huge change,” she shrugs nonchalantly.

  “And you’re sure of this?” I ask her.

  “I know that we’ve done some searching and we’ve had a lot of conversations about each team, but I like the idea of the closeness of Arizona to San Diego, the fact that Spring Training takes place here - which is something we didn’t factor in. The only downfall is the crazy heat. But all in all, I think this would be the smartest move for us.”

  “Work?”

  “I can figure that out, I’ve got experience in public relations and I’m sure there’s a company here in Phoenix that does that,” she says sarcastically.

  “You don’t have to work, you know.” I remind her.

  “I know. But you know that I would go completely insane without a job.”

  “As long as you know, it’s an open option.” I open my menu and smile behind the menu.

  We eat and discuss our future, her career and the potential career that I could have here in Arizona. The more and more we discuss, the more excited that the both get. We call up the realtor for the home that Sawyer fell in love with and make early morning plans to see the home. Since it’s empty and staged, we could have gone tonight, but we opted for a guided tour with all the information that we could obtain. I also set up a meeting with the owners of the Gila Monsters to discuss the details of their offer. That meeting was set up tomorrow morning as well, just after the tour of the home.

  All the pieces were coming together without even any hard planning. I wasn’t sure what would happen next, but I sure as hell was looking forward to finding out what it would be.

  THIRTEEN

  SAWYER

  THE HOUSE HAD VAULTED CEILINGS, recessed lighting, brand new appliances tiled floors and fresh paint. It was spacious, but also the way that the housed was staged, made it feel like a home. A breakfast nook overlooked the backyard and a beautiful pool with the stoned waterfall structure that fed into the hot tub. Gunnar was stepping through the double French doors that led into the back and was standing in front of the fire pit with his hands on his hips.

  I went out and stood beside him, leaving the realtor inside so we can talk privately.

  “You’re right.” He says quietly.

  “I usually am, you know this, I know this - why is this news to you?” I say with a straight face.

  “Funny.”

  “The realtor says that the house has been on the market for a few months. There have been a few people interested, but it hasn’t been easy to sell in the housing market. Also, this is an expensive area and home prices are on the rise, so not as many people are buying right now.”

  “Is she telling us to wait?” He asks in confusion.

  “Not at all, she probably just wants us to buy right now. It’s probably an awesome commission for her.” I reply.

  “I’m meeting after this with the Gila’s management and owners. I’m going to tell them that one of the other teams is offering me a pretty penny and hopefully they will counter with something better.”

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea? What if they don’t?”

  “I don’t see that being a problem. The chatter is that the team has the money to spend and their catcher is looking worse for wear.”

  “What’s that mean?” I ask.

  “I’ve been studying the current catchers for the three teams, and two of the three teams have catchers that are either on their way out, injured or just shit.”

  “Which team’s current catcher is healthy? And man, I feel like a jerk for not caring about that.” I laugh.

  “Boston’s player is fully healthy. Had a phenomenal spring training and is shaping up good. I’m not sure why Boston is wanting me, that guy is pure gold.”

  “You’re pure gold too.” I say turning into him and wrapping my arms around his waist. I look up at him and kiss him quickly. “I love this house.”

  “I love it too. It just feels like it could be home.” He replies leaning down and kissing me gently again as he squeezes my waist.

  “So, what do we tell the realtor?” I ask.

  “We still have a lot to discuss, but I wouldn’t be pissed if we talked to my accountant and put in an offer.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to look at other houses?” I ask him.

  “Do you?” he asks.

  “I love this house.” I whisper to him.

  “HI! My name is Betty Melmen. I’m married to Brian Melman, the pitcher for the Gila Monsters. I hear that your man is Gunnar Reynolds, the very one who is sitting with the owners of the organization right now?” she says quietly as if she’s conspiring as we stand in the buffet line with our empty plates. Betty is the type of girl that looks like she belongs in the country. She has a straight-lined empire styled dress, and you can tell that she is uncomfortable in it with how her posture is. She has her brown hair in a sleek ponytail and she’s wearing flats. Her make-up is understated and she’s chewing gum.

  “Hello, I’m Sawyer.” I say carefully with a s
mall smile.

  “Sawyer Rotham. I’ve heard all about you. You brought in a new persona to the Hornets.”

  “I guess I did, for a time. I don’t work with the team anymore.” I explain.

  “Yeah, I heard that too,” she says apologetically. “So, do you think that you guys are going to come to Arizona?”

  “We’re looking at each offer carefully.” I say in my practiced line that both Gunnar and I have repeated repeatedly to reporters whenever asked.

  “But, can you give me a hint? Blink twice if you are leaning towards Arizona,” she says turning her body to fully face me and stare at my eyes.

  I do my best to not give off any hints and instead do what I can to not blink at all.

  “Oh, you’re good at this game.” She laughs. “How long have you and Gunnar been a couple?”

  “Four and a half years,” I reply.

  “Any signs for marriage?” she asks out of nowhere.

  Ignoring her question, I turn the questions on her. “How about you and Brian, how long have you been married?”

  “We married two years ago, but we’re high school sweethearts. We’ve been together since we were fifteen,” she gushes.

  “Oh wow. Good for you guys.” I say when the line finally starts to move and I step forward, adding bacon and eggs to my plate first, with Betty following suit.

  “When he first hit the show, we had a little issue with some cleat chasers but other than that, we’ve been solid.”

  Why is she sharing this information with me? Betty seems nice enough, but I barely know her and she’s telling me about her husband having an issue with infidelity? I’m not sure that’s something that I would share with someone who was practically a stranger.

  I notice that none of the other wives or girlfriends of Arizona’s players seemed to acknowledge her, so I just kept listening, wondering if there was a reason for that.

  “Sawyer! Sawyer!” Delphine, Brad Masters’ girlfriend hollered as she walked into the banquet room.