Typing notes on my tablet for my article. Live-tweeting images from the shoot of the star players, as well as posting to Instagram Stories and Connectivity Story Share. The shoot has been phenomenal so far, with Soaring Eagles players bringing their animals or using some of our shelter ones to take pictures with. AJ posed in the outfield with his three dogs. David DeLeon posed with a shelter puppy in the clubhouse and bonded with him so strongly that he filled out papers to adopt him, which is going to be a fantastic story to push to the media. Juliette Stanhope, the Soaring Eagles show correspondent, covered it with her videographer for Soaring Eagles Insider, and I can’t wait to see it on-air next week.
My favorite was the last one before lunch, which was Brody and Pissy. Brody went behind the plate on the field and held Pissy while in his catcher’s stance. She cooperated without incident. Well, until anyone came within five feet of Brody. Then she hissed. Growled. And hissed some more. That cat truly hates anyone who is not named Brody or Hayley Jensen. If you are Brody or Hayley, however? You have the sweetest, most affectionate cat on this side of the Rockies.
But now is the part of the day I’ve been waiting for.
I carry Willy and Petey in their carrier as I head back inside the ballpark. I hope Brady likes them and we can get some good pictures for the shoot. This would be so incredible to share with ferret rescue groups, and that’s what I intend to do if all goes well.
“You guys have a big responsibility today,” I say to them as we walk. “You can be ferret ambassadors. Be your cute selves, and we’ll find some ferrets forever homes because of it, okay?”
As I wander back toward the clubhouse, I see players leaving with their pets. The shelter crew is gone as well because my pets are the last ones needed for the day.
I find Elisa outside the clubhouse doors and approach her. “I’m back,” I say, gently setting the carrier on the ground next to me.
She glances up from her phone. “Oh, fantastic. Neil said he wants the shot with the ferrets to be on the pitcher’s mound or in the dugout if you think they’ll be okay being outside.”
“They can handle that,” I say. “They’re also trained to return when I call them, so we’ll be fine.”
Elisa looks surprised. “They can?”
I nod. “Yep. I can call them to return, and I can also call them to go to their cage when they have to. They’re super-smart animals.”
“I honestly had no idea,” Elisa says. “Anyway, Brady is on the field. I came back here to see everyone else from our group off. I’m going to stop in the restroom before joining you all. I’m sorry, I should have texted you where Brady was so you wouldn’t have had to walk all the way back here.”
“No problem,” I say, picking my carrier back up. “I’ll head on out there.”
I walk back through the corridor and toward the field-level entrance. I enter into the sunshine, noticing how the wind is blowing the flags out, and step upon the sacred ground of the field.
And then I see him.
Brady is standing on the pitcher’s mound while the photographer frames his shot. Other media personnel are milling around with video cameras, along with some reporters, too, but they are all peripheral in my vision compared to the sight of Brady.
I stop walking. My breath catches in my throat as I stare at him. I notice the way the sun is falling across his face. How his hair is being tousled by the wind, sending a lock of his chocolate-brown hair cascading down across his forehead. How he smiles at the photographer as he pushes the errant lock back in place.
Then Brady spots me. He stops moving, his pale-green eyes locking with mine across the field. With a huge swoosh, the butterflies take off in my stomach.
Brady says something to the photographer, who turns and looks over his shoulder at me. Then Brady steps off the mound, walking toward me. I feel jittery and excited as he nears me.
As he comes closer, a huge smile lights up his face. Bigger than the one I saw before, one that illuminates his entire face.
I remind myself to breathe. My God, he’s the most handsome man I’ve ever laid eyes on.
He stops in front of me. “So the Willy