When Birdie asks me to meet her outside Cobra’s infamous baseball stadium, my interest is piqued. I, like every other warm-blooded male around these parts, pay good attention to the sports we surround ourselves with.
Meaning: I am a fan.
I’m standing on the corner of the street, looking up and down each way for the sight of her honey-gold hair to appear. There are nerves vibrating underneath my skin, and I’m dying for just a glimpse of the woman who makes my heart pound.
I am an absolute goner for the girl, and I really don’t care if everyone knows it.
This is the first time I’ve felt a real connection, one that isn’t clouded by bad judgment but one that is formed withfresh eyes. I wasn’t desperate for a girlfriend when I saw her again, I wasn’t pining for anyone else either, I was just being… me. Maybe, for the first time in my life with a woman, being me was enough.
“Derek!” Birdie’s voice has me whipping my head around, staring at the building we were supposed to enter. She’s standing there with a security guard, looking at me with an excited smile, and I jog toward her.
“This him?” the big-ass guard asks, looking me over with scrutiny. Six and a half feet tall with muscles that nearly bust out of the dude’s shirt, his arms are covered in black inked tattoos, and the scowl that is featured on his face is aimed right at me.
I’m so not scared of him.
“Yeah, Elias, that’s him. Don’t worry, he’s a good one.” Birdie reaches out, clasping my hand in hers and pulling me inside.
I nod at the big-ass dude—I’m serious, he’s huge—and follow Birdie. She slips me a lanyard, and I look at it, lifting my brows at the VIP written there. I look at her in question, and she shrugs sheepishly.
“I had my sister hook me up.”
“I’m okay with that,” I say quickly, slipping it around my neck and following her. There are hordes of crowdseverywhere, waiting in line for beer or pretzels or nachos, all of which I fully plan to consume, though I’m not looking forward to the lines.
But we bypass those and head around a corner where Elias, aka BAB—Big-Ass Bodyguard—uses a special key to unlock an elevator.
When we’re in there, I turn to Birdie, who’s still holding tightly to my hand, and whisper, “Who are you?”
She lets out a surprisingly loud giggle, or maybe it’s the elevator amplifying it, and I smile at her, glad to see her relaxed and excited for the day like I was.
Reaching our destination, BAB lets us off the elevator and disappears behind the doors, leaving us on our own. BAB, don’t go…
Birdie seems fine with it and tugs me forward, leading me toward a door at the end of the hallway. There are a series of doors along the wall, and I can just tell we’re high up, but when we enter the room, my eyes widen at where we are.
A private box. Holy shit.
I gape a little at the sight, the glorious baseball field coming into view and stealing my breath at the same moment that someone calls out Birdie’s name, not Birdie,but Elizabeth, and she tugs me toward the woman who could be her mom’s age.
“Oh honey! Good to see you again!” The woman hugs Birdie, and I stand back, waiting for whatever interaction this is.
“You too, Mrs. Maddox,” Birdie says politely and turns to me, smiling broadly. “This is Derek. Derek, this is Dean’s mom. Remember him? He’s my sister’s biggest struggle.”
His mom snorts, finding Birdie’s ribbing funny, and shakes my hand softly. I smile politely, unsure how I came to be meeting one of the best pitchers in the league’s mother. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”
The women talk for a few more minutes, and I can’t help it, my eyes are redirected at the field again, my attention snagging on every little detail like it’s my job to report back to the boys what I see.
When they hear where I am on the best date of my life—and this is because of the woman, not the destination—they are going to be dragging every last detail from me.
Birdie finishes her conversation, and we weave around the other occupants of the box. I don’t know who they are, but I’m going to assume they are other family members or close friends with the team.
“Want a drink?” Birdie asks, leading me to the bar where she orders two beers. I grab my wallet, but she puts her hand on it. “Ah, see, one of the perks of being sisters with the PR girl is that I get to enjoy the luxuries of the box.” Then, she leans in and whispers, “Free drinks, free food.”
I lift a brow at that and grab my beer, tilting it toward hers and tapping it against it in cheers. “Birdie, you sure know how to treat a man right.”
She laughs, and we find our way back toward the window and find two available seats, watching the warm-ups begin. We showed up in time to miss the opening ceremonies for the most part, but that’s okay because my favorite part is the actual game, not the fanfare beforehand.
We settle in, and I take a deep breath. “Okay, this has to be the coolest thing I’ve ever done,” I start, staring at the woman beside me. “How did your sister pull it together?”
“Well, it was relatively easy for her, plus she loves me and knows I’m not going to be using her for this all the time.” She lifts a finger. “However, I am on an exclusive list to get season tickets.”
