“It’s a photo shoot, Coach. I don’t think we need to worry about me pulling a muscle or spraining something.”
“With the way this season is shaping up for us to go to the big game, you are not allowed to take a piss without a trainer within arm’s reach, you hear me?” Coach pointed at Archer, his shit-kicking face drawing his forehead into folds. “I will bubble-wrap you myself if I have to, but I will not let anything happen to my clutch hitter.” Coach paused, but we all knew better than to argue when he was like this. He’d been a part of this game for fifty years and had the wins and pennants to prove it. “Understood?”
Archer nodded once. “Understood.”
Shepherd, who’d frozen in the middle of Coach’s tirade, went back into motion.
“But I get to pick who goes with me,” Archer announced. Even though I wasn’t looking at him, I could feel his eyes on me. “Doc? Whenever you’re done babying Hernandez, we’ve got a photo shoot to get to.”
I felt every eye in the locker room drift in my direction.
“Doc?” Shepherd said, his eyes narrowing on me. “Are you talking about Allie?”
I withheld the eye roll. It was common practice for everyone to refer to each other by last name—from the players to the coaching staff to the medical team. Shepherd refused to abide by that unsaid rule when it came to me though. Pretty sure it was his way of singling me out, since I wasn’t already singled out enough, being the one woman in the locker room with thirty to forty men. I knew Shepherd saw me as some kind of joke—like I had no place working in professional baseball. He was kind of a prick, but in this profession, I had plenty of those to deal with.
“Doc. Yeah.” Archer shrugged, tipping his head out the door when I looked up.
“She’s not a doctor.”
I glared across the room at Shepherd as I finished taping Hernandez’s ankle.
“She’s got her doctorate in sports medicine and busts her ass taking care of us every day, which is more than the actual team doctor who is . . .” Archer’s gaze circled the room, before landing on Shepherd. “Not here.”
The team doctor traveled with us and attended games, but he had a more lax schedule. He might have had more schooling, but at the end of the day, it was the trainers who saw to the bulk of the injuries, both preventing and treating them. The doctor was around to write prescriptions and consult with on more serious injuries.
“Coach, you good with this?” Shepherd asked, his hands settling on his hips.
“Oh, get off your high horse, Shepherd. If Archer wants Eden to go with him, fine. I’d feel the same way if I were in his shoes.”
“Because she’s the only woman around?” Shepherd fired back.
I kept biting my tongue. I was the only woman around, and it didn’t help that there was no mistaking my gender when a guy looked at me. I was on the petite size, which automatically made them all want to step in to help me get something down from a shelf or lift something that looked heavy. I was also on the curvy side, which meant their eyes were easily, and frequently, distracted. In an effort to combat my petite, curvy stature, I wore my light hair back in a ponytail and never wore makeup. It wasn’t like I was trying to be one of the guys—I was just trying to fit in a little easier.
Coach fired another warning look in Shepherd’s direction. “Because she’s damn good at her job. That’s why.”
Archer waved at me. “Doc? If you don’t mind? I’m in a hurry to get this over with.”
Patting Hernandez’s knee, I rose. He gave me a smile of thanks before I threw my duffel over my shoulder and jogged for the doors. Shepherd was glaring at me, but I ignored him. Archer was staring at me again, but I couldn’t ignore him so easily.
He was wearing a worn-in pair of jeans that stretched across his thighs and backside nicely, a basic T-shirt, and a team baseball cap. He held the door open for me and started to move down the long hall like he knew where we were going. Which I didn’t.
I spent my time in the locker room or the field. I wasn’t sure what this photo shoot was for, where it was being shot, or what was involved. Since the game was scheduled to start in a few hours, I guessed we weren’t going far, but who knew. The sponsorship deals these players got were insane, and for the top players, sponsorships could bring in more money than the paycheck they earned playing ball.
“So what are you sponsoring today? A sports drink, a cereal, or an insurance company?” I asked, having to take two steps to every one of his long strides. Archer was a good foot taller than me and fast.