Текст книги "Third Base"
Автор книги: Heidi McLaughlin
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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 15 страниц)
Being a professional athlete affords you some liberties. By liberties I mean I’m invited to A-list parties, I can get into packed nightclubs, reservations that are hard to get suddenly become available when I need them and women… I’ve had no issues getting dates or even the occasional hook-up when I want it. I even have a friend back home that I see during road trips. However, standing here and waiting for an answer on whether she’d like to join me for dinner is killing me slowly. It’s just dinner, which I need to eat, and preferably soon.
I’m going to assume she’s contemplating what it could be like to leave this building with me. The reporters are likely still outside along with the fans, although, with today’s loss, the latter might have actually gone home instead of celebrating in the pubs across the street.
“Look,” I say as she raises her head to look at me. I want to rip her hat off so I can see her fully, so I can take in what I’m sure is one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen, but she’s hiding from me. “It’s cool if you don’t want to go to dinner. Technically, I just got off of work and I’m starving so I kind of need to eat.”
“It’s not that,” her green eyes shimmer even with the harsh overhead lighting. Voices echo down the hall, making my time with her limited. I don’t want to be teased or risk one of the guys making some comment about her that will have her running scared. I lean back slightly to look down the hall. There are three or four teammates at the end that are heading this way.
“Let me walk you out and you can decide on the way down.” I motion for her to turn around and walk toward the door, keeping my hands clenched in fists and securely in my pocket. I can feel the nerves working overtime, making my fingers twitch like crazy.
Having a nervous tick could be considered disastrous in the romance department. Anytime I’m nervous, it shows. And has been used against me before. Not to mention, the element of surprise is gone when I’m trying to do something romantic before my damn fingers move on their own accord. The only time they’re calm is when I’m up to bat.
Daisy picks up her bag and slings it over her shoulder, the strap lying perfectly between her breasts. I shouldn’t stare, but they’re right there and it’s sort of hard not to. I swallow hard and try to think of granny panties and toothless women.
“Which door leads outside?” I look at her questioningly before pointing to the one on the right-hand side. How she knew there was a door that went directly outside is beyond me, unless she’s been up here before. If I get the opportunity, I’m going to ask her. Plus a slew of other things like: Why is the seat next to her always empty and does she have a boyfriend or not?
Daisy moves toward the door, and I reach out to push it open, allowing my arm to brush along her side. The hairs on my arm stand up, along with a set of goose bumps for good measure. I’ve only ever felt that once before, and that was with Sarah when we first started dating. Sarah was my high school sweetheart. I went to college in Corvallis, Oregon, she in Seattle, Washington. The distance was four hours, but that’s not what broke us up. It was her schedule and my baseball. Being a sports medicine student takes up a lot of time, and I was focused on baseball. We remain pretty close to this day and see each other when the team travels to Seattle for games.
When we get to the bottom of the stairs, Daisy pauses. I can’t tell if she’s thinking of an escape plan or thinking about what dinner would be like with me. For all I know, she’s planning dessert, and I have to admit that I wouldn’t be put off by the notion.
“Are you sure you want to go to dinner with me?”
I sort of blanch at her with furrowed brows. Did she really just ask that ludicrous question? I asked her to dinner. Clearly I want to go.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
As she looks down, I follow the general direction of her eyes. Her feet do this odd bendy thing two or three times then stop. She sighs and grabs the strap of her bag. “I’m dressed like a fan,” she says, as if this is an issue for me. I briefly appraise her attire: Skinny jeans, Chucks and a BoRe baseball tee. I happen to think chicks in jerseys or baseball tees are hot, and even more so if I’m interested in them and they’re wearing my name on their backs.
“I don’t care how you’re dressed. Look at me. My hair is wet and the neck of my shirt is soaked. I don’t have a jacket so I’m going to freeze, yet I really want to take you to dinner. That is, if you want to go.”
I have never in my life worked so hard for a dinner companion. I’m not saying I’m a smooth talker, but shit, getting her to agree is like taking candy from my three-year-old niece.
“I’ll go, but on two conditions.”
“What are those?” I ask, holding back a smile.
“That we go someplace casual because I look like this, and that we go Dutch. I don’t want this to seem like a date.”
I pretend to think about her conditions, even though I know I’ll agree to them. I’m not going to force anything on her. I want to spend some time with her so I can figure out why I’m so intent on looking at her during my games. I can’t help but smile, and seeing her smile in return even though she’s shy, gives me a surge of confidence.
“I have no problem meeting your conditions. Shall we?” I push the door open so she has no other choice but to brush by me. The same feeling I had before is back and I’m not sure how I feel about it. As soon as we’re outside, the cold April air hits me hard. I shiver and pull my phone out of my pocket, bringing up my restaurant app to find the nearest place with minimal waiting. I don’t want to embarrass her by using my status to get us a table, at least not tonight. I think back to her two conditions and settle on Tasty Burger. It’s casual, close and affordable.
“Do you need to move your car or anything?”
She shakes her head. “I took the T.”
I’d like to do that, especially with traffic, but I’d never make it to the ballpark with all the fans on the train. It’d be fun to ride for the day though.
It doesn’t take us long to get to where we’re going. Being the gentleman that I am, I open the door for her, this time standing back so she can walk in without touching me. I don’t want her to think I’m doing that on purpose, even though I am. I follow her to the counter and keep my head down slightly. She orders and pays, stepping aside for me to order. I never fully look at the cashier until it’s time to pay.
The cashier’s eyes gleam as she hangs on every word that I say. Her dream like state is comical and is the same expression she has when any of us walk in to order.
I reach into my back pocket, and then my other, feeling around for my wallet. Shit. I left it in my locker. I search my front pocket, hoping for a credit card or at least a twenty dollar bill. I have nothing.
“Shit,” I mumble, running my fingers through my now cold hair. “Um…” I look at Daisy, who is shaking her head. “I’ll be right back,” I tell her and the clerk. I can make it to the stadium and back in under ten minutes if I run.
“Wait.” Daisy reaches out and grabs a hold of my wrist. I freeze mid-step and look down at where her hand is gripping my arm. My arm turns warm and my heart speeds up. The longer I let her hold onto me, the warmer I get. The heat is radiating up my arm and weighing on me like a ton of bricks. I should pull away, but I’m enjoying the way I feel right now.
“I can pay for you,” she says, as if it’s no big deal. Except it is to me and I feel like a complete shit for forgetting my wallet.
“No, Daisy. I’ll be right back.”
“Ethan, please.” The way my name rolls off her lips sends shock-waves right to my groin. I moan internally, trying to keep the thoughts of her spread out on my blue sheets, out of my mind. I have to tell myself she’s not a conquest, but someone I’ve been eye-flirting with.
“Okay, but breakfast is on me.”
She narrows her eyes as she lets go of my arm and I realize my blunder almost immediately. I didn’t mean it like that although I’m not opposed to taking her back to my place. However, the look on her face tells me she’s on lock down and I just blew any chance I had.
I decide to let her wait for our food while I gather the necessities and find us a spot in the back. This isn’t a big place by any means, but sitting in the back makes me feel a bit more comfortable. It means there are less people to walk by and ask me for an autograph.
My phone chimes and I pull it out to see my Twitter notifications going crazy. I don’t even want to know what they say, but my curiosity gets the best of me as it typically does each and every time.
Lisa @LisaBst – 3m
@TheRealEthanD is at Tasty Burger with a date!!
The amount of retweets and comments are ridiculous. I’m thankful there isn’t a picture of Daisy because I’ve already embarrassed her enough, but this is sure to make the BoRe’s blog report tomorrow. I don’t even want to imagine what the headline will be. This is the last thing I wanted, especially for Daisy, and can only hope she’s not following me on Twitter. Before I can even pocket my phone, the tweet from the BoRe blogger shows up.
BoRe Blogger @BoReRenBlog – 15sec
@TheRealEthanD care to offer a statement?
EDavenport @TheRealEthanD – 5 sec
@BoReRenBlog call my agent!
I pocket my phone when Daisy sets the tray down on the table. She sits across from me, but doesn’t look up to meet my eyes. I pick up a few fries and stuff them in my mouth.
“About my breakfast comment, I didn’t mean it like that.”
Daisy looks up and I can’t tell if I’m hurting her more or not. I shake my head and put my hands up.
“I’m going to blunt, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Here goes… I’ve been watching you for a while. You wear the same couple of outfits to every game. You have killer seats, but you always sit alone. I’ve seen you look at me and I’ve thought about talking to you many times. Today, I finally grew a set and asked you… sort of. My comment up there, you can take it either way because I’m game for both. I didn’t expect you to pay for my dinner so I owe you something in return. I said breakfast because it’s the next meal, unless you count ice cream, but it’s too damn cold for ice cream. If you want to think I’m asking you to come back to my place, you can think that too because I think you’re fucking beautiful and I really want to get to know you better. And if we did that tonight, it’d lead, once again, to– the next meal of the day – breakfast.”
I say my peace and wait for some type of reaction. A slow smile starts to form and lights up her eyes and then she laughs, breaking any tension I’m feeling. My left hand starts to twitch so I slide it under my leg to keep her from seeing it. I pick at my food, waiting for her to say something, anything.
“I’ll have breakfast with you, but I’m not going back to your place.”
“Fair enough, we can go to yours.” I wink and get a fry in my face. She covers her mouth as she laughs and I want to reach over the table and pull her hand away. I want to see all of her face when she laughs. I want to hold her hand and see if I feel the same radiation of heat I did earlier.
“I can meet you someplace,” she says before slipping a fry between her lips. I try not to gawk, but it’s no use. Now that I have her up close, staring is the only thing I want to do.
“Or we can stay up all night and talk.”
“You have a game tomorrow. You need your sleep.” It’s in this moment that I’ve probably fallen in love with her and don’t even know it. The fact that she has so much concern for my well-being means so much to me.
“How long have you been a fan of baseball?” I reach across our small table and take one of her fries. She eyes me skeptically. I can’t tell if she’s about to slap me, or shove the rest of her fries into my face. Either way, I’ll take whatever she wants to dish out, because both actions constitute emotion and that would mean I’m getting to her.
“Still hungry?”
I want to respond with ‘duh’ but that seems very childish and inappropriate. I pull my hand back and wipe my fingers on my napkin. “Sorry,” I say and offer a sheepish shrug. “I’m used to finishing my niece’s food.”
“How old is she?”
“She’s three.”
“Does she live here?” Daisy pushes the rest of her fries toward me. She’s a woman after my own heart. Of course I dig right in and avoid the question. I hold my finger up while I chew and try to swallow without choking myself.
“She lives in Seattle with my sister and my parents.”
“Where’s her dad?”
I suck down the rest of my soda and fight the urge to burp. That would not make a very good first impression and I’m really trying to impress this girl. I should’ve paid more attention last year, but I was too wrapped up in being a rookie and being so stupid that I didn’t notice people around me.
“He’s in the Army. Right now he’s deployed, which is why my sister and niece live with my parents. My mom can help out while my sister works.”
“I bet you’re excited to go home?”
I nod and pull out my phone – not only to show her a picture, but also to count the days until we’re in Seattle to play. My notifications are crazy. I have a few texts from my dad and even more from Jasper Jacobson, our catcher and my closest friend on the team. I also have message from Cooper Bailey, who plays for our Triple A club, and Sarah. I clear the screen and bring up my photos, handing my phone over to Daisy. My hand starts to shake and before I can pull my phone away, Daisy is holding it still so she can see my blonde hair, blue-eyed niece with a dirty face, grinning from ear to ear.
“What’s her name?”
“Shea.” I cock my eyebrow as her expression changes and there’s a hint of recognition. I like that the name means something to her, which reminds me that she’s dodged my question about being a fan.
“As in the ballpark?”
I nod and pull my phone toward me. “We’re a huge baseball family. I was happy she was a girl because my brother-in-law wanted to name her Catfish and I think my sister would’ve killed him.”
“Shea’s a pretty name for a pretty baby.”
“Yep, twenty-five days and I’ll get to see her.” I try not to sound nostalgic. I miss my family and it can be lonely out here without them. I think that is what gets most of us in trouble. The nights like tonight when we’ve lost and we’re wallowing. If I hadn’t asked the usher to get Daisy, I’d be either at the bar drinking away my sorrows, or picking up some chick for a night of fun.
“So back to my question – how long have you been a baseball fan?”
“Hmm… all my life I guess. My grandpa loves the game and loves the Renegades. I grew up watching every game either on TV or in the park.”
“You have amazing seats even if they are behind the enemy.”
Daisy laughs. “Well, my grandfather is very vocal and always felt he could scare the other team back into the clubhouse with his mouth.” She speaks about her grandfather with pride and a lot of admiration. I know I just met her tonight, but I can tell that she’s definitely a grandpa’s girl. It hasn’t escaped my attention that she hasn’t mentioned her parents or any siblings.
“How come he doesn’t come with you?” I lay the question out there and am met with silence. She looks at her wrist, which I notice is void of a watch or bracelet, before reaching for her bag.
“I should go. It’s late.” She stands, avoiding my question, and slips her bag over her shoulder. I want to kick myself for seemingly crossing the line when all I was trying to do was get to know her a bit better.
“Wait,” I say as I stand and reach for her. There’s an awkward silence and stare down, until I drop my hand to my side. “I know it’s late, so let me walk you.” Even though the station is right outside the door, I’d feel better walking her to the train and making sure she gets on. Honestly, I really want to drive her home or just take her back to my place since we’re supposed to have breakfast.
“You don’t have to.”
“I know I don’t. I want to.” I come to her side and set my hand gently on her back. My touch is feather light for fear that I’ll scare her.
The cold wind is brutal against my bare arms and I’m thankful I’m close to the stadium so that I can run back in and grab my stuff. Daisy shivers, folding her arms over one another and rubbing her hands up and down to create fiction.
“I can’t let you freeze.” I grab her hand and pull her down the street. Just holding her hand is warming me, and it’s starting to freak me out. I’m not into that weird voodoo shit, but I’m starting to think she’s a witch or something with the way my body reacts when I touch her.
“I’ll be fine.” Her protests fall on deaf ears as I reach the players’ door and enter my code. We’re technically allowed to come and go as we please, but they really prefer us not to return after a game. Luckily for me, or for us, the cleaning and grounds crew are still here.
I take Daisy down the hall and into the clubhouse. The lights are still on, and it stinks like sweat and other shit. I walk to my locker and grab the stuff I need. When I turn around, Daisy is lost in her own world. She’s running her fingers along the lockers, our nameplates, and over the plaques we have hanging up. Some of the greats have their names engraved there; reminding us of everything they’d accomplished and built before we were even a thought in our parents’ minds.
“When the usher came and got me, I thought I was in trouble. He told me that you wanted to meet me, and I didn’t believe him at first, but when you showed up, I thought ‘wow, he’s true to his word’. Then you asked me to dinner, which I had to pay for,” she pauses and winks at me, “and I had a good time, but being in here… I’ve always dreamed of walking into the clubhouse on game day and wondered what it was like.”
“Well, it doesn’t smell like this, that’s for sure.” I run my hand through my hair and grimace because it stinks like something died in here. She laughs and shakes her head. Daisy walks over and stands in front of me. I’ve never really been attracted to girls who are much shorter than me because of the whole having to bend down to kiss them thing, but there’s something special about Daisy. I’m not sure what that something is yet, but I’m hoping to find out.
“Thanks for bringing me here.”
In this moment, I wish I’ve known her longer than a couple of hours, or we were hammered, because I’d really like to kiss her. Instead, I say, “You’re welcome.” Except it comes out as a whisper, and suddenly the room is a sauna and she’s licking her lips and I’m licking mine. We both step together at the same time, our chests matching a rhythmic breathing pattern. Our heads tilt in opposite directions lining us up perfectly. One of us needs to close the gap and I want it to be her...there’s something sexy about a woman who makes the first move, who goes after what she wants. I want Daisy to press what I’m assuming will be the softest set of lips I’ve ever encountered against mine. I want to feel the wetness of her tongue coat my lips, asking for me to meet her half way in what’s surely going to be an explosive first kiss.
“Don’t forget to tell her about your pecker fungus, Davenport.”
We both jump back and I’m muttering ‘mother fucker’ as she turns tomato red. If I didn’t embarrass her earlier, I have now.
“Fuck you, Kidd.” I pick up a piece of clothing and throw it at him. “What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing?” he waggles his eyebrows and looks at Daisy who has her eyes focused on the ground.
“We were just leaving.” I don’t want to get into why I’m back here because I’ll never hear the end of it. I grab my jacket and sweatshirt, and motion for Daisy to follow me out. She’s right on my heels, bumping into me when I stop to turn around.
I catch her in my arms as she falls into my chest, using the situation to my advantage so I can feel her against me. It’s a dirty trick, but I never said I played clean. She’s the first one to pull away, adjusting her hat as she does.
“Here,” I say, handing her my sweatshirt. “I’ve kept you out late and I don’t want you to freeze because of me.” It’s going to be huge on her, but seeing her wearing something with my name on it will be worth it.
Daisy takes off her hat and tries to hide her messy hair. “It’s okay. My hair looks crazy when I take my hat off.”
She squints and sort of shakes her head. I guess I wasn’t supposed to say anything about how her hair looks. How the hell am I supposed to know that? My mother raised me to be honest and say what’s on my mind. I guess this is one of those times when media training will come in handy.
As soon as she pulls my sweatshirt over her head, I’m eyeing her backside. I’m not looking at her ass, but at my name and number spread across her back. There’s no bigger rush for an athlete than seeing your name on the back of someone you like. This is a player issued sweatshirt and not available for our fans to buy. The minute she walks out of here people are going to assume she’s my girlfriend. Panic should set in. My palms should be itching and my heart racing at the thought of being labeled with a girlfriend, except none of those things happen.
Instead, I picture her in my jersey and nothing else, with her long hair free from any binding ties and her bare feet walking across my hardwood floors. The warmth of the afternoon sun beams through my window as she kneels on my black leather couch next to me. She’s the only woman I can imagine in my place and while that thought should scare the shit out of me, it doesn’t.
There’s a devil sitting on my shoulder whispering into my ear. He’s telling me that I need to do everything in my power to get Daisy back to my place. The angel on the other side is telling me to walk her home, or as far as she’ll let me, and get her number. The devil is telling me to bang the shit out of her and I like that idea, except I have a feeling that once I have a taste, I’m going to be a greedy bastard and want more. And something tells me that waiting for her might be worth it.
“You look really sex… cute in my sweatshirt.” I pull on the side a little; it’s bulky and I don’t even come close to touching her, but it makes me feel connected. Her eyes go from me to the shirt and back to me. The black fabric against her blonde hair and green eyes makes her pale skin stand out.
“I really should go.”
I nod, agreeing with her even though I don’t want this night to be over. I wish tomorrow were an off day; we could spend all night talking, or just keeping each other company. Taking her hand in mine, I realize how small hers is in comparison to mine. I hold them up together, examining them, before I drop our arms to our sides and start down the hall. Walking with her like this feels as natural as baseball does – only baseball doesn’t make me horny and she’s definitely causing a reaction in my nether region.
