“You still want to have a date?” I’ve fucked this conversationup so badly I wouldn’t be surprised if he canceled our date, asked me to leave, and never spoke to me again.
“Of course I do. We had a conversation, Bree. You expressed your feelings, and I expressed mine. We came to a solution to satisfy both of us, and now I’m going to cook you lunch and we’re going to move on with our day. I only have one more day with you before I’m gone again and don’t want to waste a second of it.” He kisses me again before releasing me from against the counter.
Looking over my shoulder at him as I pass by, I purse my lips and harrumph, “You’d think I was the younger one in this relationship after that spiel.”
“What can I say? I’m mature for my age.” He swats me on my ass and pushes me toward the bedroom. Taking my time in the shower and getting ready, I try to shake off the awkwardness of our conversation. I don’t want to overthink it and make things worse, which I’m known to do.Hello anxiety, my old friend.
I should’ve known that wouldn’t have been an issue when I walk out of the bedroom again and find Chase plating our lunch on the dining table with a perfect view of downtown Nashville and the Cumberland River. He smiles up at me like I’m his favorite person in the world and a little of my unease settles. He’s changed into jeans and a black T-shirt, though his feet remain bare against the hardwood floor.
“You look beautiful.” I’m wearing white linen shorts and a dressy pink shirt tucked into the waistband, but I may as well be wearing an evening gown with how he makes me feel as he takes my hand, pulls me to him, and starts swaying to the beat of the song playing over the Bluetooth speaker in the corner. Dancing in the kitchen and a bouquet of flowers? A girl could get used to this.
When the song ends, he guides me to one of the chairs at the table. “I hope you’re hungry.”
“This looks amazing.” Before me on the table is a garden salad, baked potato, and a steak that has my mouth watering.
“Where did you learn to cook?”
“You don’t have to sound so surprised.” He chuckles.
“Sorry, I just assumed you had a private chef or something like the other athletes do.” It’s easier for athletes to have someone else worry about the planning and preparation of their meals since they’re on strict nutrition regimens due to the nature of playing at the highest level. The body needs fuel to perform, and they have too many other things to worry about than the logistics of grocery shopping and meal prep.
“I do have someone who prepares my meals, but I still enjoy cooking when I have the time. I couldn’t exactly plan a date for my lady and not cook for her.” The wink he sends me while he cuts into his steak has me blushing. He could’ve hired someone to cook for us, or he could’ve ordered delivery, but no, not Chase. From the roses to setting the table, to prepping and cooking, he took the time to do it all himself.
“Thank you.” Reaching across the table, I take his hand in mine. His thumb lightly grazes over my knuckles as we dig into our meals.
“I had to fend for myself a lot,” he says after a few minutes. “You asked where I learned to cook. I helped my parents growing up and was on my own because they worked a lot so I could play baseball. It started as more a necessity. I’m no chef, but I know a few basic recipes.”
“That must’ve been hard.” I picture a young Chase making himself macaroni and cheese after practice because his mom was at work. It hurts my heart a little.
“They made sacrifices so I could do what I love. It was the least I could do, ya know?”
“I bet they’re so excited for you to be playing for the Troubadours.” They weren’t at his first game, which is odd for a player who’s been called up, but I can’t imagine a family who poured everything into their child’s dream missing such a monumental achievement.
“Excited isn’t a strong enough word. It was too short noticefor them to come out for my debut, but they made it to the game in Chicago.”
“I’m glad they were able to come out. Are they making a trip to Nashville soon?”
“You trying to meet the parents?” My deer in headlights expression sends him into a fit of laughter. “Don’t worry, Princess. You’re safe.” He winks at me again and I can’t help but roll my eyes at him.
We settle into small talk for the rest of lunch, and then I help him clean the kitchen before it’s time for him to leave for the stadium. When we get to the parking garage under his building, he pushes me back against my car and peppers kisses up my neck.
“Are you staying tonight?”
Kissing along his jaw, I lean up on my tiptoes and speak directly into his mouth. “Your place or mine? We have one more night together before you leave, so you bet we’re spending it together.”
“Don’t you just love a man in baseball pants?” Taylor shouts from beside me in our usual seats behind home plate.
“I sure do love my man in baseball pants.” Ivory gives a finger wave to Preston in the batter’s circle. How that man keeps eyes on her and the game at the same time, I’ll never know.
When I look past him, I see Chase talking to Miller in the dugout, but he’s looking directly at me and my heart skips a beat from his attention.
“Now batting, number ten, Preston Fields,” the announcer calls as Preston steps into the box. It’s a tied game in the bottom of the eighth inning. Atlanta has played the Troubadours hard this series and we’re all ready for it to end with this Sunday matinee. The only downside is the team leaves after the game for a six-day away stretch.
“How are things in the office now that Dickardo and Douche are gone?” Taylor asks, breaking me out of my spiraling thoughts.
“HA,” Ivory cackles. “Those are the best names ever. Good riddance if you ask me.” She raises her beer in a salute and we drink together.
“Hard to tell honestly. I’m still trying to dig myself out of the mess he left, plus deal with the disciplinary board for Chase and the weekly status meetings with the District Attorney.”
