But my team herds them toward the exit as soon as the photos are printed. I keep answering their questions the whole time, nodding and smiling and giving their main coach theyou’re very welcome, it was my pleasurenod as he thanks me once more.
Were it not for the Cooper factor, this would be my favorite group of the night.
And speaking of the Cooper factor—while the last of the boys is being herded toward the exit, he hovers beside me.
When I glance up at him—and even in heels, I have to look up—he has the same sheepish grin that he wore the first time I met him.
My stomach tumbles over itself.
This is gonna be a thirty-minutes-in-the-bathroom-with-nerves kind of night, which means it’s a very bad night for me to be running late out of my meet-and-greet.
Whyisn’t he in Florida?
“Could you do a huge favor for a guy who’s legit your biggest fan?” he says.
Oh, god.
He loves my music.
He loves my music.
I cannot handle this right now. “S-sure,” I stutter.
He pulls a baseball out of—actually, wheredidthat come from? “My buddy Diego isobsessedwith you. He’s a rookie on our team this year. Really talented. Going places. He’d basically die of joy if you signed a baseball to him, and if you knew how joyful Diego was on a normal day, you’d know that’s huge.”
I blink once.
Then twice.
His buddy Diego.
Not him.
OfcourseCooper Rock isn’t my biggest fan.
And he doesn’t think about me.
I’m just impossible to miss.
He probably doesn’t even remember that we spent three days together in Los Angeles back when he was finishing his own rookie year in Colorado and I was in the baby stages of launching my career.
I snap my spine straight, tell every last one of my hormonesandmy stomach to get a hold of themselves andget over the freaking past, and I smile brightly. “Of course! I love making my fans happy.”
Our fingers brush when I take the ball, and more sparks shimmy across my wrist and up to my elbow.
Cooper clears his throat and drops his hand quickly, like I’m repulsive.
“Is there anything else I should know about Diego?” I ask.
I know who Diego is. New catcher for the Copper Valley Fireballs. Happiest guy on the face of the planet. He was born with resting delighted face, and he’s fun to watch on the promotional clips the Fireballs have put out of him all through spring training.
And for the record, I only watch the Fireballs because Levi Wilson is such a fan, and Levi’s the brother I’ve never had. You do things like that for family.
“Not yet.” Cooper grins again. My vagina sobs at the knowledge that this handsome face isn’t worth our time, and my heart flips my vagina the finger for daring to acknowledge that he’s still panty-meltingly handsome. “Gotta give him a little at a time so he still has something to play for. But can I leave you his phone number so that you can congratulate him when we win the World Series this year?”
“I’ll take it,” Hiramys says. “I’ll also hold it in safe keeping in case Waverly’s tempted to call him and ask him out before the season’s over. He’s cute. A little young, but for that face? And that smile? The Fireballs are winning the hottest team award no matter what happens this season.”
I sign the ball to Diego, making sure to put on extra hearts and a personal message that I’ll be cheering for him this year and can’t wait to watch him hit his first regular season home run, and then I hand it back to Cooper, somehow avoiding physical contact again this time.
