A middle-aged man in a Waves ballcap points—not at me—but at Kenzie.
“Itisyou,” he says, swaying on his feet. “I recognized that bright hair. You’re Aaron Lawson’s ex-fiancée. Shame about him not wanting you.”
Kenzie exhales a pained grunt. “Uh, yeah.”
No, no, no.
Not only is this bad because this jerkwad is ruining what was undoubtedly going to be the best kiss of my life, but I haven’t had the chance to explain my feelings to Kenzie. She needs to know that though Aaron and I are teammates, we’re nothing alike.
“Maybe you’d be up for other options? Like me,” the man suggests, painfully unaware, or too drunk to notice, that she’s still loosely wrapped in my arms.
“Look, man. I think you should—”
“Such a pretty girly.” He scratches his rotund belly. “Girly, girly with the red curls. I wonder if…” When his gaze tracks down Kenzie’s body, I step in front of her.
“That’s enough.” I set a rough palm on the man’s shoulder, pushing him back several steps. “You’re leaving.”
“Hey!” he snaps before looking up and breaking into a smile. “Hey, you’re Trevor Chapman.” A beer-scented laugh tumbles my way before he takes my hand off his shoulder and shakes it vigorously. “I’m such a fan. You have no idea.”
Then my brow furrows when, out of nowhere, the man bursts into tears.
“It’s been…” His voice climbs into a squeaky range. “It’s been a tough few months, and having baseball…” He uses the neck of his stained shirt to wipe his eyes. “It’s all I’ve got.”
My heart clenches involuntarily. I’m still irritated that he interrupted us, and I’m barely resisting the urge to punch him for the way he looked at Kenzie, but obviously this guy is not in the best place.
“How about I sign your hat?”
“Really?” He whips it off his bald head. “That would be great.”
I glance over my shoulder at Kenzie. The way she’s hugging herself rips me to shreds.
“As quietly as you can, go get a permanent marker from the bartender,” I tell the man. “If you tell anyone else I’m here, I’m walking out.”
The man nods eagerly, stumbling toward the bar.
In two large strides, I’m boxing Kenzie against the bar shelf, shielding her from the room. “Are you okay?”
Her eyes find mine, unsure, but holding my gaze as she nods.
“Good.” I exhale. “I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you.”
It’s too honest, but it’s also what I didn’t say when I pulled her away from the lighthouse railing.
“We’re going home.” My tone is suddenly too gruff. I’m not usually the kind of man who orders anyone around. I’m the one who goes with the flow, but my need to fix this consumes me. “We can come back another time, or I’ll buy a pool table for the house. I don’t know. I just—”
I pull my hat off and run frustrated fingers through my hair.
“I got a pen.”
With the man back, I turn, keeping my body between Kenzie and him. It’s probably overzealous, but I can’t help myself. I quickly sign his hat, drop a wad of cash beside our half-eaten food, and tuck Kenzie beneath my shoulder, steering her toward the door.
It’s not until we’re on the road that either of us speak.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her.
Kenzie hugs herself tighter, and I nearly snap the steering wheel in half.
“For what?”
