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  The auction is going really well. So well they’re going to pass their goal by at least twenty-six percent.

  “Up next, we have Alec Norris accompanied by the fiercest fighter this side of the four-o-five.”

  “Fiercest fighter in all of So Cal. And I’m going to defend my championship next month. Why don’t y’all come check it out,” Sadie yells into the microphone.

  A big round of applause filters through the crowd.

  “The bidding starts at five-hundred dollars.”

  Alec steps away from Sadie and she glides off the stage. I’ve already been on stage and my player got a bid of fifteen thousand dollars. It was pretty incredible.

  The bid for a date with Alec closes at twelve thousand dollars. I feel sorry for the woman the MC just called “the lucky lady in the green dress.”

  I hide my smile behind my fist as Brenner crosses the stage to give the closing speech for the evening. Finally, we can get out of here and go home.

  He looks so damn hot in a black suit. The collar is open, and he’s sans tie. A smattering of dark chest hair peeks out from his black shirt under the lights.

  My thighs press together as delicious thoughts of a very naked Brenner swirl in my head.

  “Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for your generous donations for our annual fundraiser. Tonight we smashed our goal, and we’ll look forward to doing the same at next year’s event.”

  “Actually, Brenner,” a feminine voice calls out from the crowd. “We’re about to raise a little more money.”

  Holy shit.

  Actress Heather Young struts across the stage in a sensational floor-sweeping, gold gown and hooks her arm with Brenner’s.

  Oh my gawd. They’re going to auction off my fiancé.

  Shit. What do I do?

  My teeth sink into my bottom lip. I stare at Brenner. Can he see me?

  Should I bid on him?

  Hell yes, I should.

  “Ladies, how much would you love to go on a date with the general manager of the Los Angeles Stingers?”

  Claps and cat calls filter over the crowd.

  “Oh no, Heather.” Brenner shifts and waves to the crowd. “I think we’ve done a lot good here tonight. No one needs to bid on the old fuddy-duddy manager.”

  I snicker into my glass. Did he just say fuddy-duddy?

  “I bid three thousand dollars.” A woman in a glittering white dress stands up.

  “Four thousand dollars.” This comes from a young woman wearing an off the shoulder red dress.

  Brenner looks embarrassed or terrified. I can’t tell.

  I rise from my seat. “Fifteen thousand, five hundred dollars.”

  All eyes are on me and a whisper of a smile plays on my handsome fiancé’s lips. He grabs the mic. “Sold to the lady in the blue sequined gown.”

  Laughing, I clap my hands together, and my chin drops to my chest. Holy shit. I just paid to date the man I’m going to marry.

  No one knows that yet.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Brenner

  The August heat chokes the morning air as I push myself the last two miles of my run. I make it to the end of our driveway, and my cell rings through my earbuds.

  It’s Drew Roberts, the president of baseball operations for the Stingers.

  “Hey, Drew, what’s up?”

  “You got a minute?”

  I gulp in a deep breath of air and pace around the courtyard. “Yeah, just finished my run.”

  “Got a call last night. Albany wants to trade for Norris.”

  “Okay. Wow.” I run a hand through my sweat-soaked hair. “Buckley?”

  “Yep. Just sent you the contract details. Look it over and we’ll discuss the specifics.”

  I pull up my email.

  Shit, yeah. It’s a great deal.

  “Okay. I can be in my office in thirty minutes. Does that work?”

  “Yeah. Talk to you then.”

  The call ends and I walk up toward the front door.

  “Hey, honey.” Lark stands in the doorway holding a fruit smoothie. She loves these things.

  “Hey.” She hands me the glass and I guzzle half the contents.

  “You okay?” Lark bends her head to meet my eyes.

  “Yeah. Drew called. Albany wants to make a trade.”

  “A little late in the season, isn’t it?”

  We walk inside the house and I finish the rest of the smoothie. “I’d say yeah, but the MLB overturned rule 9(a)(4) involving August trades earlier this year.”

  “Are you bummed about it?” She stalks toward the stove and flips on the burner. “Pancakes okay?”

  I nod. “Not bummed at all. Albany wants to give us Buckley for Norris.”

  “Alec?” Lark’s eyes go wide.

  “Yep. Does that make you sad?” I tease.

  Her eyes narrow, and she points the spatula at me. “Not in the least. Although, I feel a little bad for Alec. He has a prime beach bungalow that he’ll have to give up.”

  I take a seat at the island and Lark brings me a cup of coffee and some sparkling water. She is the best. I can get these things myself and make my own breakfast, but we like sharing household duties.

  “I’m sure he’ll get a good price for it,” I reassure.

  She spins away from the stove. “I have an idea. Go with me.”

  My brows scrunch. “Okay.” I can’t help but stare at her ass in those tight gray yoga leggings. My eyes crawl upward, taking notice of her lower back. She’s wearing a tiny scrap of fabric that she likes to call a sports bra.

  “Let’s buy his place and flip it.”

  This is not what I expected to hear from Lark, but it doesn’t surprise me. We did a total revamp of my bachelor pad during the quarantine. And thanks to Lark’s staging skills, her place sold within two days of hitting the market.

  “We can definitely give it a try. Although once I tell Alec he’s been traded, he might not put me first on his list of potential buyers.”

  She flips the pancakes and turns on the fan. “Doesn’t matter. We wait for the listing and then we swoop in and buy it. As long as he doesn’t make us write a love letter on why we should be the new owners or something crazy, I think we’re good.”

  I laugh. “Okay, babe, whatever you want.”

  She slides the plate of pancakes in front of me along with the butter and syrup. “Yeah, I think I found a new passion besides volleyball.”

  “Me. I’m your new passion.”

  Her palms splay flat against the island. “You’re definitely my passion, but you’re not so new anymore.”

  “Ouch.” I wince and dig into my breakfast.

  She comes around the island to stand behind me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders and kissing my neck. “I love you. You’re vintage. A classic. Like a fine wine or a sexy sports car.”

  “Good save, babe.”

  “Speaking of saving, how awesome was it that I saved you from being dragged into an uncomfortable date with a Beverly Hills Barbie?”

  As Lark saunters from behind me and walks toward the coffee maker, I stab at the pancakes and spear a raspberry along with the fluffy goodness. “Pretty damn awesome. But I thought Barbie was from Malibu?”

  My fiancée adorably rolls her eyes. “Ha ha. Fine. You got me.”

  I wipe my mouth with the cloth napkin. “I do have you. Which is why I think we should get married. Make it all official.”

  Her eyes widen. “You want to get married?”

  “Yep. The sooner, the better.”

  “Are you sure this won’t be a distraction while you’re on your way to winning the division and possibly the whole damn thing?”

  “No. Life is too short, and I can’t wait until I’m your husband. I love you. Let’s not wait.”

  She smiles over the rim of her coffee mug. “I love you. And I can’t wait to be your wife. So let’s do it. I’ll plan the whole thing.”

  “Something small and intimate?”

  “Of cours
e. I have some ideas and I think you’re really going to like them.” She tugs at the strap of her bra, lowering it over her shoulder.

  My dick takes attention. “I’ll love them.” I glance at my phone. “Shit. I have to look over this contract and call Drew soon.”

  “Do what you got to. I’ll clean up.”

  “I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

  She settles between my thighs, pressing her lips to mine. “I’m counting on it.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Lark

  “Zip me up,” I say over my shoulder to Rikki.

  “God, you look gorgeous. My brother is going to lose his mind when he sees you, Lark.” Post third baby, she’s beaming and looking gorgeous herself in a single shoulder, blush-colored gown with a daring slit that stops below her thigh.

  I stare at my reflection in the mirror, falling in love with the dress all over again—the champagne-colored, fit-and-flare, lace gown hugs my body in all the right places.

  “Thank you. I can’t believe I’m getting married today.”

  Rikki hands me a glass of champagne. “Lark Manning. It has a lovely ring to it.” She raises her glass to mine.

  I gulp down the glass, slick my lips with a vibrant shade of pink gloss and fluff the ends of my hair.

  Rikki adjusts my train and then we head toward the door. As I come down the stairs, I smile when I see the gorgeous explosion of flowers Monika selected for the occasion.

  Rich warmth hits me at the sight of peach, cream, and light pink roses mixed with green and rust-colored hues. It’s perfect.

  I stop on the bottom stair, taking in the scene across the pool in the garden. We transformed our entire backyard into a dreamy and romantic setting with twinkle lights strung over our outdoor dining area. The backdrop of the mountains and the olive trees makes everything feel cozy and intimate.

  Less than twenty people sit waiting for me to get this show underway. I’m lucky that I found so many people to call friends and family. Brenner’s former assistant, Kandace, is even in attendance.

  I want to believe that my grandparents are smiling down on us today. I’m sure they’re glad that I found the person I was meant to be with for the rest of my life.

  When Brenner told Rikki I was walking down the aisle by myself, she told him there was no way she was letting me walk down the aisle alone.

  We’ve become good friends over the last year. Since Brenner couldn’t be with me in Tokyo, Rikki and Monika flew over. Brenner insisted on first-class everything.

  Taking the final step, I turn and walk across our dining room to the kitchen and step up to the threshold of the french doors that leads to the gardens.

  Rikki grasps my hand when the string quartet plays Michael Bublé’s “Crazy Love.” The guests stand as we step out of the house.

  My attention zips straight to the man standing in front of the archway covered in pampas grass and flowers that match my bouquet. Brenner looks incredibly handsome outfitted in a light gray suit.

  The song ends and Rikki hands me off to my sexy groom.

  “This is some scene you’ve put together in just a few weeks, babe.”

  “Thank you. You ready?”

  He chuckles as his espresso eyes roam over my face. “I was born ready.”

  Our vows were short and sweet—declarations of love and protection, coupled with humorous promises. Brenner promised to make me pancakes whenever I wanted them. I promised to keep baking muffins and pies every Wednesday.

  Before I know it, the ceremony’s over and I’m married to the love of my life. Van Morrison’s “Sweet Thing” plays as we walk down the aisle.

  Daylight turns to dusk as we finish taking photos.

  We dance.

  We laugh.

  We drink and eat.

  Platters of farm-to-table courses are served on a simple cheesecloth runner that adorns the middle of the dining table. Soft, bistro-style lighting illuminates the space, transforming the garden party into an evening perfect for celebrating love.

  “Babe, where did you find this artisanal bread? It’s delicious.”

  I smile at him over my wineglass. “Your mom made all this food.”

  His eyes widen as he turns to his mom. “Mom, this is amazing.”

  “I’m glad you like it. I’ll bill you later.”

  “Are you two going on a honeymoon?” asks Rikki.

  I nod. “After the season’s over, we’re going to Italy like you suggested at Anson and Claire’s wedding.”

  She squeals with delight. “Oh, yay. The two of you are going to love it!”

  “Dance with me,” Brenner whispers, kissing just below my earlobe. The rush of bubbles from the champagne tickle my throat as he leads me to the pool deck.

  Brenner’s friend, Brant leads his wife, Caroline to the far side of the deck where they sway to the beat of the music. Anson and Claire glide across the deck, laughing and holding one another close. Sebastian, who Brenner’s known since college, takes Monika across the dance floor with a very impressive spin routine.

  We only hired the quartet for the ceremony. So we’re just streaming our wedding playlist over the outdoor speakers.

  I stop to catch my breath and refill my wine glass. Holly approaches and grabs another cocktail.

  “Hey, congrats, Lark. Everything is just beautiful.”

  “Thank you for being here.” I squeeze her hand.

  “Have you given any thought to training again?”

  “I have, and I hope you won’t hate me too much.”

  She laughs. “I had a feeling this was coming. You’re retiring?”

  I nod. “Yeah. I’ve got some other things I want to accomplish before Brenner, and I start a family.”

  She clinks her glass to mine. “I can’t blame you one bit. If you ever change your mind though—”

  “I know where to find you.”

  I feel good about my decision and lighter somehow now that I’ve told Holly my plans. She’ll find another partner and win more tournaments. Probably more Olympic medals.

  Now I can focus on my passion projects. Plus, I’ll have more time to support Brenner and the Stinger’s.

  My husband walks toward me with a twinkle in his eye. “You ready to call it a night?”

  “Not just yet. I think I need another piece of cake.”

  “Can’t say I blame you. The buttercream and lemon frosting is an excellent combination.”

  “You know, you and I are an excellent combination, my husband.” I scoop up a slice of cake and cut off a small bite.

  Brenner smiles and wraps his mouth around the tines of my fork. “You know it, wifey.”

  I brush my lips to his. “I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  I’ll spend the rest of my days proving to Brenner how much I love him. How much I cherish what we have together.

  We’re a family now.

  Brenner Manning swooped into my life at a time when love and laughter were the last things on my mind. He taught me so many things about myself. I have worth. I have value.

  I’m capable of so much more with his love.

  EPILOGUE

  Lark

  Confetti rains down and a massive crowd gathers on the pitcher’s mound after the amazing strikeout by the Stinger’s ace left-hander determines the victory.

  The Stingers are World Series Champions.

  My cheeks ache from grinning from ear to ear. I maneuver through the crowd with Monika, Rikki, her husband, and their kids.

  Monika squeezes my hand and pulls me closer once we reach the stage that was set up immediately following the game.

  “Come on, this way!” Lucas shouts.

  “Hold up there, buckaroo,” Anson scoops up his nephew.

  As soon as we get close, dodging cameras and the swarm of reporters, I find Brenner.

  “We did it!” He pulls me into his arms and lifts me higher into the air. “I can’t believe in my first year as manager we freaking pulled it
off!”

  I hug him tightly. “I can absolutely believe it. You’re amazing.”

  “This feels amazing.”

  “I’m so proud of you.”

  I let Brenner go so that his mom, Rikki, and the rest of the family can share in the moment. Roars of excitement and a rumble of applause filters through the crowd.

  “Stingers! Stingers!”

  My eyes scan around the crowd, reliving my own victory in Tokyo. This is something.

  Brenner comes back to me and slings his arm around my waist before planting his lips on mine.

  My husband presses me forward, stopping only to accept congratulations and pats on the back from the media, players, and other family members.

  “Hey, Manning,” I hear a voice call out.

  We turn to find Alec Norris striding toward us.

  “Hey, man, good game,” he says and shakes his hand.

  “Thanks, Norris. You guys sure gave us a run for our money this series.”

  He chuckles and tips his cap before running a hand through his hair. “Really thought we had you there. Never dreamed it’d come down to the last inning of the last game.”

  “Stranger things have happened,” I point out.

  Alec narrows his eyes at me. “Well, you’ve been at all the games. Probably why we won some, and let’s not forget my three home runs during the last game.”

  “Alec, you’ve got to give up the superstitions.”

  “Not likely. Let’s see . . . we won every game at home, you were there . . . tonight we lost the final game. I struck out twice. No RBI’s. It’s a Tuesday and the weather is a warm seventy-four, which is unusual. Something is off.”

  I wave him off. “You’re ridiculous.”

  “So you two are married now, huh?” Alec nods to my wedding bands.

  Brenner grasps my hand and squeezes. “Yep, and we’re going on our honeymoon in a few days.”

  Rikki bounces up to us and shoves a bottle of champagne in Brenner’s hands. “Where did you get a bottle of champagne?”

  Rikki scoffs. “Please, I have my ways. Drink up.”

  Brenner laughs and hands the bottle to me. “I’ll drink later. You guys go ahead.”

  “Uh, no thanks. I’m good with water for now.”