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Hunter “Pug” Marcus
Baseball is all I’ve ever known. Long before I understood responsibility or regret, there was dirt under my cleats, chalk on my hands, and the diamond calling my name. I built my life around the game, sacrificed everything else for it. Now, on the edge of forty, I’m starting to wonder if I gave up more than I realized.
Maybe after this season. After one last championship.
If this season—and our new pitcher—doesn’t do me in.
Clem Sharp is trouble wrapped in talent—too confident, too young, and far too annoying. Every sharp grin, every challenge in his eyes, sets my nerves on edge. I tell myself it’s irritation. Frustration. Anything but the pull I feel when he’s too close.
Management wants me to mentor him, guide him, keep him focused. What they don’t see is the quiet war I’m fighting—to keep my distance, to hold the line. I can’t want him. I won’t. He’s a complication I can’t afford, a temptation I refuse to touch… no matter how badly I ache to.
Clem Sharp
I’ve never struggled to succeed. Sports have always come naturally, victories piling up as easily as expectations. I know what I’m capable of, and I’ve never felt the need to apologize for it. Confidence isn’t arrogance—it’s survival.
Getting drafted by the St. Louis Snipers should have been perfect. It’s home. It’s everything I’ve worked for. And Hunter Marcus—the captain, the legend—was supposed to be the best part of it. Instead, he keeps me at arm’s length, his disapproval sharp, his eyes lingering longer than they should.
I tell myself I don’t care. I tell myself I don’t notice the tension humming between us, the way his voice drops when he says my name, the way my chest tightens when he walks away.
I’ll prove myself to him—to the team. I’ll earn my place here.
Hunter Marcus isn’t just the man I looked up to. He’s the one temptation I don’t know how to resist.

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