“It feels like it is.Brock.” I did it again. I was not flirting, nope, nope, nope. I was not. “But, you avoided the question.”
Surprise colored his face, and I was glad I asked him instead of assuming everything I read about him online was true—how he lost a sister and niece in a career-ending car crash. The accident played no part in him getting this job, and so I considered it too personal.Too off-limits.
“Ah, yes I did.” He looked out at the graveyard and slowly nodded. “I have.”
I forgave him, a little, for that. He had the same look I did at that moment, like both of our souls suffered a great loss that we hadn’t accepted. My curiosity wanted to ask who, when, how, but I knew better. People didn't ask about death. It was too inappropriate and considered sad. To hell with social rules, I blurted out, “I lost my mom about six years ago. I can't go a day without thinking about her. That's why I hate cemeteries. Burying her was the hardest thing I've ever done in my life. It was just us.”
He met my eyes, slowing down the cart. He turned, his hard body facing me entirely, and something passed between us. Understanding? Sympathy? His mouth opened, his tongue wetting his bottom lip quickly before hiding back inside his mouth. “I'm sorry. I can't imagine my life without my mom.”
“It sucks.” I gave him a small smile. “Some days are better than others. I'm a workaholic. People admire my ambition, which is there, and it's easier that way. Then, I'm tired or busy, and I don't have time to feel sad. It’s worked well so far.”
He nodded like he understood and kept driving. We pulled up to the baseball stadium, and the place was almost empty. He explained that most of the players were at a boot camp of sorts until next week when classes started.
“Do you have keys to every building here?”
“Training facility, yeah,” he said, flippantly. “Come on. Heidi runs a hell of a program here. Maybe you'll meet her.”
Heidi was the athletic trainer for the baseball team. I had heard about her—anyone in the major had. She was tough, intelligent, and quick as a whip. Anderson had a reputation for himself too but not like hers. Being a woman in the field was pretty badass. Plus, Anderson was one of the bros.
I followed him inside and eyed the set up. It was smaller, nicer, and more organized. There were less players on the team, but that didn't seem to matter to Heidi. Shit was nice. I walked to the back room, eyeing the rehab area and a pair of eyes met mine. I about jumped out of my shorts. “Oh, hi.”
“Hey there,” a deep, smooth voice with a slight southern accent answered me. The voice came from a head, a head that was sticking out of an ice bath. The head was attached to a firm, tanned chest. I had no idea where my chest fascination came from, but I needed to get a freaking grip. “You lost, ma’am?”
“No, I'm touring the place. I'm Grace.” It was my inner waitress, always introducing myself to people regardless if it was necessary or not. I was an idiot. Freaking idiot.
“Well, nice to meet ya, Grace. I'm real glad you stopped in,” he said in that twang, and I blushed...and giggled. Oh my god. I giggled.
“Thanks, what's your name?” I asked, feeling heat rise to my cheeks. “I don't really follow baseball that much. I apologize.”
“Aw, hell honey, you're ruining my healthy ego.” He stood from the bath, his strong forearms supporting him, and I sucked in a breath. He was ripped. Freaking ripped and his short, tight shorts left nothing to the imagination. “Feel free to look. I don't mind.”
“Shit. My bad,” I admitted, backing out of the room before embarrassing myself. But, no, that would be too easy. Karma wouldn't allow it.
Anderson walked in, looked from my face to the ripped guy in small shorts, and frowned. The guy hadn't seen Anderson yet and chuckled.
“Baby, you can check me out anytime you want.” He turned with a big ass grin, but it fell a little when it landed on Anderson.
Brock's voice broke the small silence, his hand going to my shoulder. I doubted the touch meant anything, but to southern accent guy, it was territorial as hell. Then, he said in a voice I had never heard from him before, “G-thang, are you flirting again?”
Oh. My. God. He said G-thang.
He cock-blocked me.
I glared at him, shoving his hand off my shoulder, ready to tell him off. But, he must've read my face because he put his other hand on my other shoulder, boxing me in. “Sorry, Ricky, she's a natural flirt. Ignore her.”
“Ain't nothing, Brock.” Ricky, the sexy beast, gave me a small smile. “Nice to meet ya, Grace. I'll see you around.”
He walked out of the room, firm legs and all. I turned to yell at Brock, but he released my shoulders and burst out laughing. I hit his good arm. Hard. “What?” The asshole asked between laughs. “You deserved that.”
I began to argue, but then I remembered. I remembered the girl from Monday night. I sucked in my breath, shaking my head. “Damn it, Anderson. You're right.”
“Brock, and yeah. I am right.” Humor danced in his eyes, an easy smile falling on his face now. “I told you game on.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You cock-blocked me.” I laughed, rolling my eyes. “I'm guessing you didn't have a happy ending Monday, then?”
Oh my god. Filter. I needed one now. I asked the question so naturally, like I would've with anyone else but him. I didn't know how he would react.
He ran that damn hand over his jaw and laughed.
