The Screw Ball (Indianapolis Lightning Book 3) Samantha Lind (story books to read .txt) 📖

“Yeah, he has!” she cheers.

“Okay, that’s enough. I have to look him in the eyes and if this conversation keeps going, I won’t be able to do that without thinking back to it, or of him naked and doing naughty things.”

“If you insist, but maybe you should investigate that a little more. I’ve seen the way he watches you when you’re walking away from him. His eyes never leave your ass,” she says, shrugging her shoulders again as she reaches for her own drink.

“Never going to happen. I don’t date players.”

“Rules are meant to be broken. Plus, isn’t that your rule and not the team’s?” she presses.

“So, what,” I tell her. “It isn’t like I’m his type, nor is he mine. So there’s no reason to put any more thought into the idea. It’s never going to happen,” I tell her, closing the book on this conversation.

I finish my lunch, wrapping all my trash up and tossing it in one of the large cans not far from the table we’re at. I turn around, leaning my back against the table as I close my eyes and soak in the sun.

“I’m headed back inside,” Carly says a few minutes later.

I crack my eyes open as she stands. “I’ll be following you shortly, I just need a few more minutes here in the sun,” I tell her, enjoying the hell out of being able to take this time to just relax.

“Sounds good, I’ve got some emails to follow up on, so if you need me, you know where to find me,” she says before disappearing into the building.

My mind is always turning, always planning multiple things, plus having to be on the ready when something happens with one of the many people associated with the team. From the ownership and management, to the players. I have to deal with media relations for all of them at one point or another. Just like some I deal with more than others. My job is never boring, that’s for sure. As hectic and stressful as it can be at times, I wouldn’t change it for anything. I love what I do. I love working for the Lightning. It is a great organization to work for, and I’m very lucky to have landed this dream job when I did.

My phone buzzes on the table behind me, so I’m forced to end my time soaking in the sun. When I look at the screen, my eyes instantly roll as I see who’s calling me.

“Carmen Gibson,” I answer the call. My voice is laced with so much fakeness, I could almost puke from all of it.

“Carmen,” the caller greets. “This is Bella King from TMZ,” she tells me, and launches into why she’s calling before I can interject. “I’m calling to get a statement on the situation from earlier today.”

I’m a little surprised, as TMZ usually only cares about gossip that I’m trying to keep as quiet as possible, not the news that we actually want picked up and spread like gospel. I will never assume with someone like this, as they’ll sometimes try and trick unsuspecting people into giving up a morsel of information that wasn’t previously released.

“I’ll need a little bit more information before I can provide a statement, can you tell me whom, exactly, you’re calling about and what situation you’re referring to?”

I swear I can hear gum popping on the other end of the line, which just goes to show you the level of professionalism. “I’m calling in reference to Lucas Black,” she says, the annoyance obvious, at this point.

“A request came in last week from a children’s hospital in Florida,” I start to tell her the details.

“Actually,” she interjects, “I’m calling regarding the other announcement about Lucas,” she states and I’m sure I lose all my color as my mind starts reeling as to what other announcement she’s talking about.

“For any comments on anything not related to the team, please reach out to Mr. Black’s manager or personal PR company.” I give her my nicest blow off and end the call, basically hanging up on her. I type his name into my Google search as I haul ass back to my office.

“Carly!” I call out as I pass by her office as I run to my own. She must hear the panic in my voice as she comes running into my office.

“What’s wrong?”

“I have no idea, TMZ just called asking for a comment on the ‘situation’ with Lucas. I thought it was a little weird because usually hospital visits aren’t their thing, but I went with it. When I started to give them a response about how the hospital visit was set up, she interrupted me and said she was calling about the other ‘situation’.” I pause long enough to wake my computer up and type Lucas’s name into a Google search. The screen immediately loads and is flooded with articles that have hit within the last thirty minutes.

A Secret Baby for Baseball’s Newest Hotshot?

I read the headlines one after another. “Well, looks like he knocked up a stripper,” I tell Carly.

“You’ve got to be kidding me?” she says as she plops down in the chair across from my desk. “That man needs to learn how to keep it in his pants.”

“And wrap it up.” I grimace. I don’t need to be thinking about him and his junk and whether he wraps it up when he’s having sex. Especially with a stripper.

“Do you want me to reach out to him, see if he’s got his PR firm on this? If he’s smart, he’ll demand a paternity test just to make sure she’s not trying to use him for money or fame. You know she wouldn’t be the first, and most definitely won’t be the last to do that.”

I glance at the clock, checking the time, then checking the itinerary for the team. Since they’re still on the road, I have an hour-by-hour breakdown of where they’ll be when. “He should be at