“I usually go to hot yoga on Thursdays, but I don’t imagine sweating would be a fun experience with this charbroiled arm of mine, and these broken fingers wouldn’t be a fan of some of the poses. I’ll have to table my yoga for a few weeks.”
She leaned back in the car seat and looked out her window. “I guess that means I’m free. Why?”
“Well, prior to our conversation this morning, I had arranged for Faith and Tessa to hang out with you tomorrow evening.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes.” He hadn’t lied to her about anything yet, and he wouldn’t start now. “I made the assumption that you’d be tired and would prefer to be at home. But, obviously, that was idiotic. Let me try to make it right.”
“Okay.” There was a lot of hesitancy in that word, but he’d take caution over fury any day.
“I help coach a Little League baseball team with a buddy from church. He’s the head coach, and there’s no drama if I can’t be there. In fact, the boys think it’s cool when I’m not there because they dream up all kinds of crazy stuff.”
He cut his eyes at her. “That may be partly because I got shot in the middle of the season last year and missed a couple of weeks because of it.”
“That would make an impression.”
“Yeah. Anyway, we have a game tomorrow night. Six o’clock. It’s a fourth-grade team. This is their first season where the kids are pitching and catching.”
“I used to love going to your games. Those kids are lucky tohave you helping coach.” Her voice held the soft edge of memory mingled with something that sounded a lot like pride.
“I don’t know how lucky they are. I’m lucky to get to be involved again. I missed the game, and this is a good group of kids.”
“I’m sure they are.”
He took a deep breath and plunged ahead. “I know you want to be involved in the security decisions, but there’s no way I’m leaving you alone tomorrow night. It isn’t safe.”
“So what are my options?”
“You can have another girls’ night in with Tessa and Faith. Or Zane and Luke will go with you if you want to go out.”
“Hmm.”
“Or—”
“There’s a door number three?”
“There is. You could come to the ball game with me and sit in the dugout with a bunch of crazy nine- and ten-year-old boys. And when the game’s over, we could pick up some takeout.” He risked a glance in her direction. “I have to be honest with you. It’s not what I had envisioned for our first date. I would have preferred something with less dirt and significantly fewer children.”
“This would be a date?” There was a tremor in her voice. Was it excitement? Trepidation?
It was time to hit that fly ball to her and see if she caught it or let it drop. “It doesn’t have to be a date, but I would like it to be.”
27
THE LAST DATE she and Gil had gone on, they’d driven to Atlanta for a Braves game. They held hands, ate peanuts and hot dogs, and daydreamed about what it would be like when Gil played for a major league team.
Two days later, she left for Oregon.
Gil cleared his throat, and there was no mistaking his discomfort. He’d taken a risk, and she’d left him hanging. “I’d love to.” The words tumbled over each other in her hurry to accept and reassure him. “It sounds fun. I haven’t been to a baseball game in years. And I like kids.”
Gil’s relief was palpable. “Then it’s a date.”
“It’s a date.”
Gil’s hand reached for hers, and after she laced her fingers through his, he pulled their hands until they rested on his thigh and brushed his thumb across the back of her hand in a slow, soothing sweep.
He stopped at a red light and turned to her. “There’s food in your Crock-Pot, but we can set it in the fridge. It’s a stew, and stews always taste better a few days later anyway. And we need to kill alittle bit more time. Where would you like to pick up something for dinner?”
