Gone was the snug t-shirt that showed off the tattoos and muscles. Gone were the faded jeans that left only a little to the imagination. Gone were the worn out cowboy boots. Gone was the 2-day old stubble that gave him a rough edge. Most of all, gone was the smug, fuck-me smirk that drove the ladies crazy.

The new Carter Fox had donned the official mea culpa uniform of every sinner, hat in hand, begging the public for forgiveness: a plain, light blue dress shirt (that covered each and every tattoo); gray slacks (leaving everything to the imagination); brown loafers (loafers, for Christ’s sake!); and a clean shaven face. As instructed by the higher ups and the P.R. team, his face was set in a permanent expression of remorse.

The last part hadn’t been too hard to achieve. If he could, Carter would have gone back in time and never hit that damn home run, if only to avoid this circus.

But Carter Fox had made the bed, now he was lying in it, and rightfully, so. He was here to play a role after all: reformed bad boy. Or at least until the public screamed for the old Carter Fox back. Eventually, they would.

Bad boys always finished first.

The room finally settled down as the P.R. rep for the team stood in front to urge everyone to quiet down.

“Carter Fox will be making a brief statement, then we will open the floor up to questions.”

The rep nodded to him and Carter relayed the statement that had been etched into his brain, lest he forget even a single line.

“Most of you are aware of the unfortunate incident that happened on July 23rd after the game against the Rockies. I won’t go into details, but I made an inappropriate remark to a young woman who was only trying to get me to meet with her cousin and get an autograph. My comments to Miss Jordan Douglas were completely out of line and inexcusable, and I offer my most sincere apology to both her and her cousin, Ben Douglas, as well as any fans who happened to have heard my remarks.

“Miss Douglas, my words do not reflect the opinions of the Sluggers’ franchise, players, managers, or owners toward their female fans.” They had made damn sure to include that little tidbit. “Ben Douglas, I’m sorry that I didn’t get a chance to meet with you, especially after learning how much of a fan you are.

“I would like to make it very clear that I value each and every one of my fans. Without them, I would not have a career. I especially value those fans who take time out to meet with me personally.

“Again, I regret what happened that day. Since I did not get a chance to meet with Ben Douglas after the game that day, I am offering a personal invitation to meet with him at the Sluggers’ Stadium. I know this will not erase, or make up for what happened on the day in question, but I hope it will at least make it so that the Sluggers haven’t lost a fan. I look forward to finally meeting you, Ben Douglas.”

Carter lifted his eyes to the crowd below him and moved in closer to the microphone.

“I also look forward to meeting Miss Jordan Douglas again, if she’s willing to give me another shot as well.” He couldn’t help the shit-eating smirk that came over his face. The old Carter Fox wasn’t entirely gone.

“Thank you. I’ll now take questions.”

That last bit was an ad-lib on his part, and he’d probably get raked over the coals for it. He truly did want to meet Ben. Carter loved kids and nothing thrilled him more than seeing some boy or girl in the Sluggers’ royal blue hat and jersey.

He couldn’t deny that it wouldn’t hurt to have Ben’s cousin along for the ride. After all, Carter loved women too.

Of course there were questions. There were always questions. Hopefully, they would stay on point. The good news was, this time around Lucas Grabow did not get a press pass.

Carter pointed to Mason Ward of Channel 4.

“Carter, how do you respond to some of the offensive comments written online about the incident by some of your fans?”

Carter had read enough of the online forums to get a picture of what Mason was talking about. He had felt the same rage as he had when he’d seen Jordan get physically attacked. Now she was getting attacked via social media and he felt, in some small way, responsible.

“I’d like to first make it very clear that anyone who uses sexist, racist, or any other offensive language might as well stop being a fan of mine right now. I don’t condone, nor do I screw around that sort of talk. I’d also like to make it clear that Miss Jordan Douglas is in no way, shape, or form responsible for any repercussions on my part. I’m the one in the wrong here.”

He’d probably get heat for telling people they could stop being fans, but Carter didn’t care. It made him sick some of the things people had said. At the very least, he didn’t want the likes of that tainting his image. There was a fine line between bad boy and degenerate scum.

Next up was Connie Ortiz of Fox 11 News. “Carter, to date you’ve had a reputation for being a bad boy and a bit of a playboy. Is today the start of a reformed Carter Fox?” It was all very tongue-in-cheek, perfect for a light-hearted wrap-up in the evening news.

“Who knows, Connie,” he said grinning, happy to play along, “I may have just found the woman to cure me of my wicked ways.”

There was an appreciative laugh from the reporters.

There was one person in the back who wasn’t laughing.

* * *

“I don’t know why you insist on pushing the envelope all the damn time, Carter.”

Madison Grant, her maiden name, thank you very much, was not pleased. The 5’9”, former Miss Brazos County with a head of flaming red hair—which may or may not be dyed, don’t you dare inquire—was sitting beside him in his truck. One lit Marlboro was tucked securely between two perfectly red lacquered fingernails. Carter wished she would quit those damn things.

He was driving her back to her Houston condo in his pick-up truck. They were going to have dinner at her place. In her words, she “just wanted to spend an evening having dinner with the son, whom she hardly ever gets to see.”

Carter found it interesting that her dismay at hardly ever seeing him only seemed to materialize when one of his particularly scandalous escapades hit the tabloids. Madison liked to “strategize,” a term that meant that Carter might as well clear his schedule for the evening. What in the world did he have an agent for, when his mother took control of everything?

There wasn’t a woman on earth that could bend Carter Fox to their will—save this one, even at 26 years old. At some point, he’d have to renegotiate exactly what their mother-son relationship should be like. The thought made him exhausted. It was easier to just let his mother have her occasional intrusions into his life than sit her down for a come to Jesus talk. No wonder he’d never had a long-term girlfriend, let alone a wife. One controlling woman in his life was enough.

Carter supposed he put up with it for so long mostly out of guilt. She had raised him well, and for damn near all of it, single-handedly. He certainly hadn’t made it easy for her. A good deal of his adolescence had been spent sneaking in and out of girls’ windows and chugging beers with friends lifted from their parents’ fridges in empty parking lots. He had the natural talent and an obviously amazing swing, but that would have gone to waste before he even finished high school if she hadn’t kept a firm hand on things. Eventually, he’d managed a scholarship to Texas A&M. Carter had mostly her to thank for what his life was now.

Heaven knew his “dad” had had little to do with it.

“This is not some bimbo you’re dealing with here,” she went on. “She could cause serious problems. And there you are—in front of reporters—still making passes at her. If you’re lucky, she won’t take you up on this offer to join this cousin of hers when you finally meet with him. You need to stay focused on this kid, not salivating over his cousin.”

Carter suppressed a smile. His mother knew him too well. He thought back to the woman in the royal blue tank top and shorts. For probably the hundredth time, he wondered what she would look like underneath all those clothes.

The smile broke through.

“Dammit Carter, you don’t stop do you?”

He turned to see his mother casting a scrutinizing glare at him. Leave it to her to read his mind. Yeah, it was probably for the best if Jordan Douglas didn’t take him up on his offer.