Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 89238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
“It’s perfection,” she says.
“It’ll be available on Monday,” he says, then his phone rings, and he brandishes it with an apologetic “I should take this.”
“Have a good night,” I say, and we take off, passing the packs at the fountain, then a handful of couples meandering out into Hayes Valley. We dart around them, turning the corner toward the restaurant.
“So let me get this straight. Kisses and retail spaces are the way to your heart?”
She shakes her head. “They’re the way to my panties.”
Then she strides ahead of me, and I want dinner to end before it even starts.
“And I was truly shocked when we won the championship,” I say an hour later, after I take a drink of my wine at a small booth in the corner of the restaurant.
“Humble brag,” Elodie says with a faux cough as she sets down her fork and napkin.
We’re nearly done with the meal at a Mediterranean-fusion café. The deep blue tiled walls feature colorful photographs of cities in Morocco, Egypt, and Lebanon. Golden overhead lighting makes everything glimmer.
“Hey! You asked about my softball coaching,” I point out.
“And you made sure to tell me exactly how you did,” she says then sets her chin in her hand. “Maybe you want to tell me more about your stats as a coach. I’d love to know. How many softball championships did the elementary girls win?”
I hold up my hands in surrender. “You win.”
Elodie gives me a saucy look then licks her lips. “But you can definitely tell me more about the time when you played in the majors.”
I tense, my shoulders hard like rocks. She can’t know she’s hit a sore spot, but oh hell, has she ever.
“Oh shoot,” she says, her hand flying to her mouth. I guess my body language made my feelings clear. When she drops her hand, she says with a wince, “I shouldn’t have mentioned that.”
But it’s understandable she’d bring up my one season after I went on and on about coaching girls’ softball. “It’s okay. I swear.”
“Are you sure? You seem annoyed.”
She’s too astute, but I can’t let her feel bad. I reach across the table for her hand, softening. “It was one season, and it was a long time ago. Which you probably learned when you looked me up.”
“Well, I think it’s a wise idea to look up guys who deliver me sex toys then ask me out.”
“Words to live by. And I looked you up too. So did my brother and my daughter, which is why they made sure I dressed extra nice for you. Eliza said you dressed well in your pics so I had to do the same. It’s been a while since I went on a date,” I admit.
“Me too.”
“Yeah?” This delights me too much.
“Nearly a year, if you must know,” she adds.
Can’t help it. Pure, masculine pride suffuses my chest. “Same for me.” Then hell, fuck it. She deserves to know she’s special. “I don’t usually date customers. Hell, I don’t flirt with customers. I’m friendly, but that’s all.” I pause. “But then you came in. And there was something about you.”
If I’m not careful, this date is going to turn into something riskier. But I know better than to believe one fantastic night means anything more than that. Still, she made herself vulnerable to me. She opened up, so I give her something more than she could learn online about my far too short stint in the majors. “And yes, I was drafted right after college. Played in the minors for one season. Then I played for the Los Angeles Bandits. It was a decade ago. I blew out my elbow after eighteen wins in one season and it was…devastating,” I say, and I leave it at that. Don’t need to get into what it did to me. How it affected my head and my heart. The hell I experienced after.
“I’m sorry, Gage. That must have been so hard,” she says with genuine sympathy.
Hard doesn’t begin to cover the death of my dreams. “It sure was,” I say evenly, but it wasn’t even the hardest thing to happen that year. “But life happens, and you move on.”
“I hear you,” she says, and there’s soul-deep understanding in her voice. I want to ask what she’s grappling with in the life happens department. But I don’t want this date to get too heavy. Even though Zane warned me, I go against his advice because we need some levity, and we need it, stat. “My daughter said I should show you my rookie card,” I say, like I’m dangling a carrot.
Elodie brightens, her smile spreading to her eyes as she beckons with her fingers. I grab my phone, and find the pic in my texts from Eliza. I spin the phone around to show Elodie.
She takes a beat to check it out. The serious game face I’m wearing. The uniform I didn’t get to wear nearly enough. And, of course, the pitcher’s scowl, designed to terrify batters. It worked. My cut fastball was a thing of legend. When I was on, it was nearly impossible to hit.