Squeeze Play Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Epilogue

  If you enjoyed this book...

  Squeeze Play

  AVEN ELLIS

  Squeeze Play

  Copyright © 2017 Aven Ellis

  Cover Design by Becky Monson

  Formatting by Polgarus Studio

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under the copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without prior written permission of the copyright owner. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the copyright owner is illegal and punishable by law.

  CONNECT WITH AVEN

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  Website

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  For Ashley Barrett

  Thank you for asking me to try something different. This baseball book is for you.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Epilogue

  If you enjoyed this book...

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Thank you to Becky Monson for helping me start on this new baseball adventure. Thank you for being such a wonderful and supportive person in my life.

  CeCe Carroll, you did a brilliant job copy editing this book. Thank you for your dedication and guidance in taking my work to the next level.

  Thank you to my Beta Baes. Thank you for always giving me what I need, and not just with the writing process. Thank you for reassurance, for reading, for being a part of my life every day. None of these books happen without you.

  To Alexandra, my assistant. Thank you for being you on a daily basis and always being my calming center.

  To the SJFC-thank you for reading, debating, and supporting every step I take. I love you girls to pieces!

  Amanda and Claudia-Your love, friendship and support is always a given. I love you so much!

  Alexa Aston, thank you for always providing your thoughts and your feedback. You are the best.

  To my Twinnie, Holly Martin- Thank you for always reading my work, offering suggestions, helping me be a better author. But it is your friendship I value about all else. I love you.

  Thank you to Jennifer and Mary, who run the Aven Ellis reader group on Facebook (Kate, Skates, and Coffee Cakes.) You both are such amazing women with such a passion for books. I love you ladies so much!

  The Aven Ellis ARC Team-thank you for wanting to read my words and review my books. I’m so lucky to have such an amazing group of readers with me, no matter what adventure we take!

  A big huge thank you to Amy Barnes and Jenn Passero for answering my endless questions about Washington, DC, and helping me bring the city to life in my book. I value you both not only as my beta readers but as my friends even more so.

  Thank you Heather M for your sharing your very personal experiences with dyslexia. Your candor made this story come alive.

  Finally, thank you to all my readers. None of this happens without your support. I’m truly blessed.

  Chapter One

  The Ultimate Modern Girl’s Guide to Self-Motivation, Zen, and Being the Absolute Best You Now!

  Today’s Question: Have you made someone smile today?

  I am having a complete Mary Richards moment.

  Okay, so being that I’m only twenty-two and the fact that I know Mary Richards from the old Mary Tyler Moore Show aside, and ignoring the fact that I’m walking through the streets of Arlington, Virginia instead of Minneapolis, I know her feeling. The young woman who has moved to the city in pursuit of a professional dream. Single. Living on her own. It’s all I can do not to sing the words to the theme song and toss a hat in the air on this crisp April day, just like Mary did in the show intro.

  Well, I’m not wearing a hat, that’s one problem, but still.

  I’m going to make it. I am reporting this Monday morning for my first job since graduating from Georgetown University last December. For I, Hayley Elizabeth Victoria Carter—yes, my mom thought it would be amazing to give me double middle names sourced from the great queens of England—am now a college-graduate professional.

  Gosh, I really wish I had a cute hat to toss in celebration right now.

  I’ll have to settle for an imaginary toss of a floppy black hat—okay, mentally tossed, caught, and put back on the top of my choppy blonde ’do, all without getting a hair out of place, the benefit of an imaginary hat. Now it’s time for the ultimate urban ritual: grabbing a coffee near my new office after stepping off the Metro.

  I walk purposefully toward Mochas & Macchiatos, a boutique coffeehouse I found online. Reviews were good and it’s only half a block from my work. I’m not due to report for another forty minutes, so I can sit down, compose myself, and visualize how I would like my first day to be.

&nb
sp; I pull open the door, and I’m instantly greeted by folk music and a long line of morning commuters snaking across the hardwood floor. Hmm. Good thing I allowed extra time this morning.

  Usually I go to Scones and Such near my apartment for my coffee because my roommate, Katie, works there part-time and she’ll sneak me a pastry, but I needed to find a café downtown that fit into my new career lifestyle.

  This career is the one I have as the new digital media coordinator for Expanded World to the Shelf, a non-profit organization to raise awareness and fund educational programs and scientific research for people with dyslexia, a cause near and dear to my heart. I watched my older brother Ethan struggle to get the right diagnosis and early intervention, and I want to do everything in my power to help others.

  Proper caffeination is important for my professional success, so I’ll see if Mochas & Macchiatos is up to the challenge.

  I scan the menu board of beverage choices for a second before becoming distracted by all the people around me. I study the DC professionals dressed in suits and the students carrying backpacks. The woman in front of me is in the cutest workout attire I’ve ever seen, and I can’t help but notice her butt looks amazing.

  Of course, my butt might look amazing if I could get off the couch more often and, you know, go to the apartment gym. The one that is free and full of state-of-the art equipment.

  The one I can’t find unless I look on the community map.

  Hmm. In light of the fact that I haven’t been to the gym in years, and I had to put on Spanx under the dark navy, three-quarter sleeved fitted shirt and navy-and taupe geometric patterned wool pencil skirt I have on, maybe I should forgo the sugary frozen coffee drink I normally order.

  I wrinkle my nose. What does that leave me? Iced black coffee?

  Ick. I hate black coffee.

  Isn’t part of the joy of coffee having something added to give it flavor? Creaminess?

  Then again, if I hadn’t cashed in all my sugar chips this morning with a bowl of Fruity Pebbles mixed with Fruit Loops, I could have had whatever I wanted.

  When it’s my turn to order, I am greeted at the counter by a young man with tattoos going up the side of his neck, half-covered by long, jet-black hair.

  I study his ink for a moment. I can’t quite make out the words, but I see multiple skulls and a guitar. And tulips? Is that a tulip coming out of a skull eye socket?

  Which begs one question.

  Why?

  Okay. So much for cracking the code on the counter clerk by trying to decipher his choice of ink because I’m lost on this one.

  “Hi, what can I get you today?” he says in the super cool, bored tone of a young twenty-something dude.

  “One large iced coffee,” I say.

  “Name,” he says, picking up a plastic cup.

  “Hayley,” I say.

  He places the cup in line with all the other beverages waiting to be filled. I pay with my debit card and move down to the other end of the counter to wait for my drink.

  While I wait, I watch the customers in the café move around me. DC is such a fascinating melting pot of people from all diverse backgrounds, which is why I’m so glad I live here. From politicians to artists, think tank professionals and diplomats, military personnel and students—all here in the nation’s capital. You never know who you will encounter on any given day.

  “Hayley,” the barista calls out over the hissing of the machines.

  I pick up my cup, hearing the ice shake inside as I do, and head to the only vacant table left, next to the pick-up counter. The continual hissing of espresso machines and whirling of blenders almost works in harmony with the folk music being piped in over the speakers. I glance out the window and watch the merge of people heading off to start their day. I drink in the busy street and the interesting architecture around me and feel nothing but gratitude.

  I’m living my dream.

  I find myself grinning again. I’m stupid excited about my career working in non-profit in Washington, DC, and I wonder what I’ll do today. I’ll probably be tasked with filling out a bunch of paperwork and setting up my email with the IT department, but still. I can’t wait to get to work. I have so many ideas for the foundation, and I can’t wait to help make a difference in the lives of people with dyslexia. I feel energized and full of purpose. I have an opportunity to help people. To solve problems. To create change.

  And nothing makes me feel more valuable than that.

  I reach inside my bag for my phone, and as I pick it up, I also retrieve the book I brought to read on the train today: The Ultimate Modern Girl’s Guide to Self-Motivation, Zen, and Being the Absolute Best You Now!

  I began reading this book of self-discovery last night. I figured since I was starting a new chapter in my life, I might as well make it the best one possible and thought ordering this book from Amazon might help. I’ll scribble in the margins, add sticky notes, and highlight interesting passages. I’m going to use this as my textbook for adult life.

  The first challenge posed to me was to see if I could make someone smile. Once I accomplish that feat, the book will ask me more questions, involving feelings and reactions I’m sure, but I’m not there yet. So far, no dice on a smile, but it’s only morning and I’m pretty sure I can achieve my goal before bedtime.

  If I do make someone smile, I’m supposed to record the reaction of the person and how it made me feel when it happened. Definitely a self-awareness exercise. I pause to take a sip of my coffee.

  Yuck! I involuntary shiver at the bitter brew in my mouth and screw up my face.

  Holy crap, that’s hideous.

  I force myself to swallow. Gross! How on earth do people drink black coffee? Outside of pioneer times when they had no other choice?

  I write in the margin of my book:

  I have not made anyone smile, but I have come to realize that black coffee brings me no joy. In addition to locating the gym, will need to adjust sugar balance to have one daily indulgence as part of embracing adulthood.

  Or I could just double up on Spanx.

  My phone buzzes and I glance down and see it’s Katie. I know she’s just gotten up to get ready to head to class.

  I drop the book back in my bag and answer her call.

  “Hello?” I say as the barista yells out another name from behind the counter. Now the place is getting really crowded. I can feel people standing close behind me as they hover around the pick-up area.

  “Good morning, working woman,” Katie says good-naturedly. “I don’t need to wish you luck, as you were born for this job, but I do want to tell you to have a great first day.”

  I swear Katie is the sweetest person I’ve ever met.

  Which is probably why we have been best friends since moving into the same dorm our freshman year. Katie had the roommate from hell, one who had her boyfriend over 24-7 and would talk endlessly about his wish to be in a band instead of at school studying business. Hers came in only second to my roommate, Clarissa, who ate out of my food stash without asking, borrowed my expensive perfume, and refused to clean up the mountain of dirty clothing she left on the floor until she didn’t have a single thing left to wear.

  But if I had to deal with Clarissa to find Katie, I’m grateful.

  Almost enough to send her a nice thank you card.

  Except that bottle of limited-edition Jo Malone was expensive.

  Okay, forget that.

  “Thank you,” I say. “I’m nervous but more excited than anything.”

  “Don’t be. You were destined for this job.”

  “And it’s digital media!” I say, getting excited all over again.

  “Better yet, you are no longer interning in the suburbs. You will have access to single men!”

  I snort. “I’m not looking for a man.”

  “You realize your last meaningful relationship was . . . never?”

  “Yes. By design. I want an older, sophisticated man once I’m established in my career. I don’t h
ave time to waste on boys our age because they’re dumb.”

  “They are not all dumb. I object to that gross overgeneralization.”

  “No.”

  “What about hot meaningless safe sex with a guy not old enough to get the senior meal discount at IHOP?”

  “Okay,” I correct, knowing Katie loves nothing more than a good argument, “I did not say senior-meal-discount old. I’m thinking thirty-five. That sounds like a good age,” I muse.

  “You grabbed that number out of thin air.”

  “I did not. A thirty-five-year-old man would be settled in his career, done playing the field, and ready to settle down. Not to mention, financially secure.”

  “Right. Are you ordering Mr. Perfect Middle-Aged man from Amazon like all your kitchen gadgets that appear on our doorstep daily? Oh, wait! You’ll get him with Amazon Prime! Can they deliver a prime-age man for you in two days?”

  She laughs at her own joke.

  “You are not funny.”

  “I’m hilarious.”

  “By the way, my kitchen gadgets are essential. They are problem solvers,” I declare.

  “Because you absolutely needed the electric two-in-one breakfast burrito machine?”

  “Did you see it? You can cook the eggs on the top while the tortilla warms! I don’t have to stand and stir the eggs. It does both.”

  “Yes. Because it takes so long to scramble eggs and heat a tortilla at the same time. I’m so relieved you found a solution to that pressing crisis.”

  “You are going to be so jealous when I make a perfect burrito in sixty seconds,” I say.

  I hear the microwave being set, and I know Katie is preparing her daily bowl of oatmeal.

  “Hey, you never answered my question about having hot meaningless sex,” Katie asks, coming back around.

  “I will if you will,” I challenge. After all, Katie is a lover of all things romance. There’s no way she would have sex without love.

  People are still passing back and forth in front of me, some heading out the door with drinks and pastries while others squeeze in behind me and next to me as they wait. I stare longingly at a girl sipping a frozen coffee drink with whipped cream on top as Katie rambles on about how if she could find the right man to date, she’d not only be having hot sex, but sex with love. Romance. The feels. Butterflies.