Warning Track (Callahan Family #1) - Carrie Aarons Page 0,57

the assistants rubs a little more orange dirt from home plate on my arms and torso.

And seeing as I’m naked as the day I was born, I can’t but think back to two days ago, when I was bare inside Colleen as she wrapped herself around me.

Jesus Christ, I’ve barely thought of anything else in forty-eight hours. The minute I pulled out of her, I wanted immediately back in. I would have driven back to her place, or told her to meet me at mine, but she thought we had to be discreet. Neither of us knows what this means, but the gravity of it feels tremendous.

The only reason I’m not getting a boner is because more than a dozen people are looking at my limp cock that’s been shoved into a prop sock for “decency.” I have no idea how any of this is decent, I’m basically being covered by a piece of cloth and my ass is fully exposed. Not to mention my balls.

A couple more photos, and then it seems like my time in front of the camera is done. Thank God. I’m not unfamiliar with promo shoots or advertisements, having been in the league and doing a bunch of endorsement deals over the years, but none of them have been done in the nude.

One of the production assistants brings me a robe which I shrug into, and somewhat feel like an actor on a porn set between scenes.

“Good job, Hayes. We’re all set.” The photographer claps me on the shoulder.

It’s kind of hilarious that he’s congratulating me on posing in my birthday suit for a couple of hours, as if I did anything of notice or admiration for posing naked.

Snapping a quick photo of the computer screen containing a dozen shots they’ll comb through to pick the right one for the issue, I fire the picture off in a text to Colleen.

Hayes: Good morning. *picture sent*

It takes a minute or two before the three little dots appear and then comes her response.

Colleen: Holy hell, warn a woman before you send something as lethal as that! I’m currently sweating.

Hayes: And I’m currently trying not to think about you in your office, which is proving awkward in a room full of people.

Colleen: You’re not allowed to text me things like this during the day. How am I supposed to get anything done?

Hayes: If you need, I can come to your office soon.

Colleen: Pretty sure that’s how we got ourselves into this mess in the first place.

Colleen: I’m definitely going to need a copy of this issue to keep under my pillow. You know, for lonely nights.

Hayes: And I just thought about you touching yourself to my picture. Cue inappropriate on-set boner in three, two, one …

Colleen: Is there any way you can sneak into my bedroom tonight?

For as professional as she is as a general manager and inside the ballpark, I’ve been thoroughly surprised to find out that Colleen Callahan is a shameless flirt. And she can back up those words. The woman is a knockout.

Well, not that we’ve had sex in an actual bed. But if the office was any indication, we’ll do a lot of damage with a private bedroom at our disposal.

Since we had that dinner in Baltimore, it feels like things are coming to a crossroads. Either we pursue this, or we let the spark fade out to be a distant, what-if afterthought. The night of Independence Day, I saw her on the jumbotron at the stadium. The commentators had been talking about the Callahan family, and they panned up to the owner’s suite.

Colleen was sitting there in her form-fitting, high-necked red dress, and something in me snapped. I was tired of waiting, of walking on eggshells or debating the consequences in my head. I went right up to her office and … well, we all know how things went down.

“And who the hell are you sexting?” Clark walks up behind me, trying to get a good look at the screen of my phone.

Pulling my phone away in a hurry, I lock it and put it down by my side. “Not cool, man! And who said I was—did you really use the word sexting? Are we seventeen?”

Clark shrugs. “If you’re texting pictures of your junk, naked body, or waxing on about how you plan to fuck a girl via messages, then you’re sexting. Ain’t no denying that. Plus, your face says it all; big smirk, laughing to yourself, and I think you might be