Designated Hitter (Reedsville Roosters Book 4) by Holley Trent Page A

about what she had to do, but she simply wasn’t programmed that way. That was why she’d hired him in the first place.
     

CHAPTER EIGHT
    Finally back in Florida after eight weeks being up to his ankles in cow shit and missing his girl like crazy, Quinn leaned against the console table in his apartment. With his phone pressed to his ear and his car loan statement clutched in one hand, he glared at his roommate Gary, and Gary glared right back.
    “Still on hold?” Gary asked, and looked down at the wax strip he was about to yank from his leg. The guy swore up and down that he got more manservant assignments than anyone because he apparently serviced an untapped segment of clientele—ladies who liked their help smooth as the day they were born. Quinn didn’t buy it.
    He groaned. “Yeah. Going on five minutes—”
    “Client services. How can I help you?” came a chipper voice from the phone.
    Quinn straightened up and started to pace. “Oh, hi. Listen. I’m calling about my loan. I’m just trying to make sure everything’s all right with it. I called to make a payment and the automated system wouldn’t give me a balance. You haven’t sent the account to collections, have you? I know you might not be able to tell me, but—”
    “Let me put on hold for just a moment.”
    “Oh, shit .” He rolled his eyes. He shouldn’t have tried to coast the bill to his next payday, but there were more pressing expenses he’d needed to cover first. His student loan payment was probably going to open its huge maw and swallow him whole soon.
    “What’s the worst that could happen?” Gary asked. “They’ll repossess it? Big deal. You can get another car anywhere.”
    “My credit is already screwed six ways to Sunday as it is.” God, if Marina had any idea just how bad it is…
    Well, she wouldn’t want him. She’d want a guy who had his shit together.
    He tried so damned hard not to bring up the money stuff, but somehow, conversations kept drifting that way. Maybe Marina would mention she caught an athletic event on television with a team from his old school, and the conversation would turn to tuition costs and such. He always managed to disentangle himself from the discussions as quickly as he could, but he worried she was going to get impatient with him for his lack of candor. She was probably used to being courted by men who didn’t live paycheck to paycheck, and Quinn anticipated that it’d be a long time before he stepped into that economic tier.
    “Don’t let it eat you up,” Gary said. “It just happens sometimes.”
    “Has it happened to you ?”
    Gary muttered an oath and yanked the wax strip. He rubbed his leg vigorously, swearing all the while. “No, but came close a time or two. I was able to hustle and get the cash at the last minute.”
    “Isn’t hustling what got you thrown out of minor league baseball?”
    “Yep.”
    Gary’s exploits were legendary. Quinn hadn’t yet figured out why he’d played baseball at all. He was an excellent outfielder, sure, but he spent far more time on the bench than he did on the field because of his troublemaking shenanigans.
    Thinking about Gary on the bench reminded Quinn of Wallace’s offer. He could earn a little money just from riding the pine for half a season, and then he could tighten up his cleats and step up to the plate again.
    A year ago, he might have been too prideful to take the offer. He was tempted at the moment. He still held out hope he could make something out of baseball. It wasn’t like he was anywhere near retirement age. His body was in okay condition and his reflexes were still sharp. If he were lucky, he could still play a couple of years in the Majors. He’d get that debt monkey off his back, for sure, then. Marina wouldn’t have that as a reason to be ashamed of him.
    “Are you there, Mr. Hathaway?” the rep asked.
    “Yep, I’m here.” He rubbed the burn over his heart and forced down a swallow. Go on and give me the bad