Dustin ducked into the team meeting right before the doors closed. He could feel Coach Wolfe’s eyes on him and worked to keep his poker face. A roster’s worth of guys had commented about Dustin’s new look. Every. Guy. He had been razzed to within an inch of his life in the parking lot by Ricky and Joe. Once inside, his bare chin became the hot topic. A man had to have thick skin to play this game.

He’d taken it all in stride—even the jokes about being a mama’s boy and a whipped pup in love with a new woman. While a certain woman may have been the initial motivation, she wasn’t the reason. Wanting to impress Coach Wolfe, who was clean shaven, was the real reason he’d made a drastic improvement. With Wolfe’s eyes boring into his head, he kept his face passive. He couldn’t let the coach know that he’d gotten inside his head.

He searched for a seat, and had a whole team staring at him like he was an alien in their midst. Their teasing was getting on his nerves. They had more important things to do than discuss his face. “What?”

“Moonlighting much?” asked Juan Castillo, right fielder.

Dustin froze, wondering if he had Sheetrock dust on his black T-shirt. “What makes you say that?”

“You’ve got Extreme Makeover, MLB edition written all over your face.”

The guys chuckled or threw pens and gum wrappers at Juan for his lame joke.

Dustin relaxed. “They wanted you, but I told them there was no pretty under your mane.” He jerked his chin toward Juan.

Juan ran his fingers through his shoulder-length hair, pausing to hold the pose he’d done for an underwear commercial. “That’s not what the ladies tell me.”

A.J. Peck smacked the back of Juan’s head amidst groans from the other players. Dustin took a seat near the back by Brayden. They exchanged “Sups?” and chin jerks. Brayden’s girlfriend, Tilly, had met them at the club the other night. She admitted that clubs weren’t her scene, so they ended up getting last-minute tickets to Cirque du Soleil’s Michael Jackson performance. Tilly was big into rock climbing, working as a guide in Snow Canyon and other areas in Utah, so she had a whole different outlook on the trapeze and how much time and control it took to do the stunts.

Coach Wolfe called them to order. “Before we prep for the Marlins, Sheila needs a minute.” He motioned to the perky PR representative. She got to her feet, smoothing out her long, platinum hair and pressing her red lips together. Several of the guys let their eyes dance across her trim figure.

Dustin closed his eyes, bringing up the image of the mystery woman from Saturday night. She’d been through a thorough spit and polish. Instead of her hair being up in a ponytail, it was smooth and shiny and moved like liquid. He could easily imagine it falling across his chest as she lay in his arms. Her olive skin was soft and luxurious. It was all he could do not to brush his fingers up her bare arm as he stared into her deep, golden eyes.

“… promoting goodwill in the local community …” Sheila’s throaty voice and a nudge from Brayden brought Dustin out of his daydream. He did a lot of daydreaming about his Essentials Girl—too much. He needed to keep his head in the game.

One thing was certain: Gary Betts would love to take Dustin’s place on the field. The guy warmed the bench during games, and he was hungry for a chance at shortstop. Not only was his replacement nipping at his cleats; Dustin’s batting average was down. He’d been bumped to ninth in the lineup and wasn’t happy about it. Not that he could blame Coach; his performance at the plate was the worst it had been since high school. Dustin didn’t have anything against Gary, but he would do everything in his power to keep him on the bench—including banishing a vixen from his head.

He tuned in to what was going on around him and noticed the owner, Harper Wolfe—daughter of previous owner, Jack Richmons—step into the room. Harper was married to Coach Wolfe. The two seemed like a good match, but it couldn’t be easy working and living together. Of course, Mrs. Wolfe was more involved with the day-to-day management of the team than most owners, but her father had set the example as owner before his death. Mrs. Wolfe hung back, observing.

“Put your name on three lines,” Sheila continued. “You can choose three different charities or spend all three volunteer opportunities at the same one.” She handed the clipboard and signup sheet to the nearest player. Dustin scowled. Sitting in the back was a mistake. He’d be lucky not to get the assignment to scrape gum off the stadium seats.

“What if I don’t want to volunteer?” asked relief pitcher Turk Smith.

Coach Wolfe stood. “Community involvement is our new mission. You can expect these opportunities—” He leveled Smith with a “don’t challenge me” look. “—to continue throughout your time with the Redrocks. I will excuse you from pregame on the days you volunteer. If your performance on the field suffers, you’ll start postgame workouts to make up the time. As long as you play well and show up to your assignments, I’ll be happy.”

A low grumble buzzed through the room. Dustin added to the noise. How was he supposed to volunteer, play baseball, and help his brother run a business?

Sheila laced her shaking fingers together in front of her. Someone ought to give this woman a lesson about on-field composure. Dustin had noticed her weakness—all of them noticed—and some of the guys would pounce. “A photographer will accompany you to your chosen venue, and we’ll be using the photos in news releases and on social media.”

“Sounds like a lot of work,” groused Smith.

“Don’t worry,” called Mrs. Wolfe from behind Dustin. The sound of heads whipping toward the back of the room caused a hush over the team as they all looked at the woman who signed their paychecks. “We won’t ask you to write the news stories. All you have to do is show up and look happy about it.”

Now there was a woman who knew how to keep her composure on the field. She met each challenging gaze with a slight lift of her eyebrow. The gesture was akin to a batter winking at the pitcher—begging him to throw his best stuff.

Sufficiently subdued, knowing this scheme was backed at the highest level, the guys passed the signup sheet around quickly. Brayden signed his name and handed it to Dustin with a smirk.

Dustin braced himself to see what was left. There was one slot at the elementary school to talk about healthy living. That was fine. Kids were enthusiastic and easy to entertain. The other two open lines were under the local food pantry, the same one he’d been invited to visit as a patron. His mouth went dry—the taste of irony bitter on his tongue.

“Are you kidding me?” Dustin muttered.

Brayden leaned closer so he could talk without disrupting the last of Sheila’s spiel. “You going to buy them twenty dinners too?” He smirked.

Dustin shook his head. He’d been so embarrassed when he walked into the club and saw the woman who had mistaken him for a homeless man that he’d puffed himself up like a grizzly bear on the attack. He needed to save face and embarrass her as much as she’d embarrassed him. The idea to flood her table with food had come quickly, and he’d acted before thinking things through. Looking back on the night, he regretted his rash behavior. “Shut up.”

Brayden leaned against the chair, kicking one leg out in front of him. “Have you seen her?” he asked out of the side of his mouth.

“Who?” Dustin wrote his name under The Pantry, filling out his required three slots. Good thing he already had the address.

“The girl—she was fine.”

Dustin had noticed her graceful arms and silky skin, but he didn’t like knowing Brayden had noticed too. He ground his teeth. “Haven’t seen her.”

“Maybe she’ll be at the shelter.”

Sheila handed the floor back to Coach. She made her way to Dustin and held out her hand for the clipboard. Her smile never faltered. Good for her, she was learning how to keep the game face in place. Dustin handed it back and smiled encouragingly.

Coach had the tech guy bring up film of the Marlins, and they got to work dissecting the team—looking for weaknesses. Rex Barnes, the Redrocks’s catcher, had a tattered notebook open on his lap and a mechanical pencil between his teeth. He kept his own notes on players—probably had the whole thing memorized. Even though he was retiring at the end of the season, he didn’t float his time. Dustin leaned forward in his seat, intent on kicking up his game. Practice on the field wasn’t the only way to improve. Strategy started long before the National Anthem played.

Try as he might, he couldn’t get his brain to fully focus on the Marlins. The Redrocks were headed out of town for a seven-day road trip, but Dustin knew he was going to see her again. His whole body hummed with the knowledge as surely as it had hummed when their eyes met on Saturday night, and he imagined the feel of her skin against his.