A Night with Knox (Sexy Bastard, #2,5) by Eve Jagger
To Greg Maddux … every time you walked up to the mound, I smiled.
You will always be my favorite Atlanta Brave.
Pitcher, Atlanta Braves, 1993-2003
CHAPTER ONE
Knox
People say baseball is all or nothing. You win. You lose. You’re safe or you’re out. But I can tell you it’s not always black and white. For instance, did you know there are seven different ways that a batter can reach first base without even hitting the ball? Trust me, as the starting pitcher for the New York Yankees, I’ve seen it all. But when it comes to women, it is much more clear cut—you can knock it out of the park or you can strike out and anything in between is just playing the field.
Well, tonight I’m ready to swing for the fences. It’s New Year’s Eve, and after a long, tough season on the field, it’s good to be back in Atlanta to see my buddies again—and I know they’ll be partying in style. I’ll be in the middle of the action, at their new bar, the Library. Our new bar, I guess I should say, although as a silent partner in the growing nightlife empire, I don’t do much more than front the investment and cash the checks. Still, I’m excited to see what Cash, Ryder, and the rest of the guys have made of our new place—and from the looks of the line stretching around the block, we’ve already got another hit on our hands.
I pull up to the bar in front of the Porsches and Mercedes parked on the line and climb out of my rental. Sure, an electric compact isn’t the coolest ride in town, but you try getting a rental on New Year’s Eve with zero reservations. The guy behind the valet stand makes no move to take my keys and looks at me like I am just your average asshole in a Prius. I toss the keys to the young punk and ignore the smirks of amusement from people at the front of the line. “Don’t you know going green is the new black?” I say with a knowing smirk “Oh, and by the way, I’m Cooper Knox.”
I stroll to the head of the line and give the burly security guy a nod.
“Welcome home, Mr. Knox,” he says as he moves aside to let me pass. But a female voice stops me.
“Oh my god, you were so awesome this season.”
I turn to find a trio of hot girls waiting impatiently behind the velvet rope, poured into sexy, figure-hugging dresses.
“I’m a Braves girl, but you had me rooting for the Yankees,” the blonde with a come-fuck-me grin flirts.
“I can’t believe you didn’t make it all the way,” another coos, twisting her hair around her finger. “You must have been devastated.”
I give an easy shrug. “You win some, you lose some.”
“You must let us buy you a consolation drink.” The third girl slides her hand over my bicep. Three gorgeous women and one me. Now that’s a lineup that I like.
“Ladies first,” I say, ushering them into the bar. They giggle, tottering on high heels.
“What’s A-Rod like?” the blonde demands, still holding on to me. “Ooh, and Chris Young, he’s so hot.”
“But not as hot as you,” her friend reassures me. “You’re our top draft pick.”
“Seriously, we have a pool at work!” her friend squeals.
By the time we make it down the hallway into the main space, I’m regretting my offer to get them in tonight. Baseball groupies are a dime a dozen, and these three won’t shut up about batting stats and draft picks.
Luckily, the bar here tonight is packed, which means they’ll find another trophy target—and I’ll get the hell away.
“You have a great night,” I tell them politely, then slip into the crowd.
“Where are you going?” the blonde says
“But we didn’t take a selfie!” the third girl yells.
I cross the room and find Parker by the bar, his ex-Navy SEAL frame towering over the rest. “Hey, Bro.” He claps a hand against my back in a rough hug. “Good to see you back.”
“I know, man. It’s been too long.”
He nods, looking around. He lives in NYC like me, but with my schedule, I can barely even see him. “You staying long?”
I shake my head. “Just a quick trip. Got to be back in the city tomorrow.”
“Always so busy.” He grins.
“Not tonight, my friend.” I catch the bartender’s eye and order two shots of Patron. “I have been busting my ass all season, and tonight, I’m making up for lost time. Been living like a fucking monk.”
Parker snorts. “You? No fucking way.”
“Believe it.” My gaze roams the room. “But it’s New Year’s Eve, anything goes.”
“I’d wish you luck, but you don’t need it.” Parker nods to where my new groupies are standing as he throws back his shot of tequila.
“Yeah, no thanks.”
Parker raises an eyebrow. “Hey, if you don’t take them, I will.”