“Okay, fine. I’ll bite,” I sigh, not feeling like I have much of a choice. “What exactly do you want in return?”
“Everything.” I shoot him a deadpan stare. “Okay, fine. How about we start off with something more low key first. Like a date.”
A laugh escapes past my lips “A date? I didn’t even know you were capable of going on one of those.”
His face contorts. “Hey, I’ve taken women out before.”
“When? And you better not say all the way back in high school.”
“I won’t say high school, because I’ll have you know I did go on a few back in college days.”
I arch a brow. “And that’s supposed to impress me? Remind me of how old you are again?”
He tries, but ultimately fails to look innocent. “I’m only twenty-six.”
“Sure, you’re only twenty-six, but that also means you graduated how many years ago?” I ask, pretending to count on my fingers. “That was what? Three—no four years ago. That’s practically ancient history now.”
He waves his hands in front of his body. “I think we’re getting off topic. The point is, I want to take you out on a date. A real one, and since it’s obvious I don’t do this shit often, that should be enough to tell you just how serious I am.”
“And that's what scares me.”
His brow knits together.
“I’s because I know you’re serious. For some crazy reason you genuinely believe you want this. Or... me, but that’s the issue.” I pause and take a breath. “I’m leaving as soon as the season’s over. It can’t possibly go anywhere, so what’s the point?”
I’d been hoping my words would scare him off, or at least make him reconsider, but for some annoying reason his smile widens.
I purse my lips, eyeing him suspiciously. “Why are you smiling at me like that?”
“Because if you’re talking like that, it sounds like you’re in danger of falling for me just as hard as I’ve fallen for you,” he says, all calm and confidence.
“No,” I reply a little too quickly. “What I’m actually worried about is you falling even harder and becoming more invested than you already are. You’ve been nothing but a pain in my ass from the very beginning. Do you really think I want to see what happens when you get even more infatuated?”
Because, unfortunately, he's not entirely wrong. The truth is, I am developing feelings for this infuriatingly charming, pushy baseball player. And as much as I refuse to admit it aloud, if he keeps looking at me like that, I know exactly what’s going to happen.
I will fall, and it won’t be the kind with a cushy landing. It will be hard and fast and the kind that leaves lifelong bruising.
“Come on. Just say yes. Please?” he pleads, shooting me what I assume is his rendition of puppy-dog eyes.
“I don’t know… I’m just not sure that’s a good idea.”
“What can I do to change your mind?”
I tilt my head , continuing to weigh the pros and cons. “You need to perform at least three trick plays at the next game, and you need to get a home run,” I finally suggest before I can think better of what I’m offering.
He looks less than impressed as his face falls. “Oh, is that all?”
“Yep. That’s it,” I reply, my grin more than a little smug.
The trick plays will be easy enough, since most guys at least land one or two a game, but even the best batters struggle to geta home run every game. That’s precisely why this feels like the perfect solution to all my problems.
“Fine. Three trick plays and a home run,” he agrees, holding out his hand.
I place my hand in his, trying to ignore the jolt of electricity that zings through my body the moment we touch.
“Good luck,” I offer, pulling my hand away just as quickly.
“Don’t worry, I don’t need luck,” he says, taking a few confident strides backward.
