Tossing my phone face down on the passenger seat, I pull out of the driveway, spinning my ring as I think about Gareth the whole way there.
It only takes me ten minutes weaving through Ridgewood’s downtown, following the familiar glow of the tall buildings and streetlights.
The night’s still young, and the small parking lot hasn’t filled up yet, so I slide into a spot near the front, grateful to be up close. It looks like there’s rain clouds rolling in, so who knows what it’ll be like out here by the time I’m off.
Killing the engine, I toss open my door, grabbing my purse and phone off the seat next to me. I slide my phone into my back pocket and tuck my purse under my shoulder as I step out, locking up behind me.
My eyes scan the parking lot like I always do, checking my surroundings. Pushing open the door to the bar, I glance behind me one more time, that feeling of being watched prominent and making the small hairs on my arm stand on edge.
Further down the street, I swear I can see a silhouette leaning against a car, but it’s too far to makeoutwho it could be.
But I already know.
My phone vibrates in my back pocket—but I don’t look.
I go inside the bar, pushing down another smile as it touches my lips.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Where the hell did this bread come from?” Declan, our coach, yells from across the jet. He’s standing near the flight attendant area, having just come out of the bathroom.
With a confused look on his face, Declan holds the bag out in front of him as though it might be poisoned.
Austin barks a laugh. “Looks like a sourdough, Coach!”
“Seriously, where did this come from? It wasn’t here when I went in, and now it is.”
A few of us look around, silently wondering who put it there. Several of my teammates have been up moving around, so it could have been anyone.
Maybe a wife or a girlfriend baked it for the team?
Jensen smirks as Declan sinks into the seat across the aisle from us, rejoining his daughter Sailor, and her nanny, Hailey. “You have something against bread, Coach?”
It definitely wasn’t him who brought the bread—he hasn’t moved from his seat—but Jensen and Declan seem to have formed a good friendship over the last couple of weeks, and he never misses an opportunity to mess with him. We all havebecome pretty close lately, actually. Me, Jensen, Austin, and Declan. There’s even a group chat.
Declan’s brows furrow deeper, so Jensen prods more. “I’ll take a slice. Got a toaster handy?”
Shaking his head, Declan glares at Jensen. “Think you’re clever, Fields? I can tell you to run laps around the Rebel’s stadium once we land if you keep giving me shit.”
Jensen’s a killer outfielder and a damn good friend once you break past his high-set walls. He doesn't easily give his trust, so once you have it, you damn well better keep it.
“Honestly though, Coach, it looks really good. You should go cut into it,” Austin chimes in, winking at the nanny. She’s a pretty redhead who’s trying to mind her own business, but keeps sneaking glances at our coach.
Declan runs a hand down his face. “You guys are impossible.”
“You love us,” Austin chimes in with a chuckle.
Declan groans, then turns his attention back to his daughter.
We have about thirty minutes left on the flight, so I pop on my headphones and sink down into my chair with my eyes closed. The second I shut out the world, Indy penetrates my thoughts and I doze off with visions of crystal blue eyes and pink hair in my mind.
Rosemoor, California.
Although it’s not my first time visiting this city, I’m just as wide-eyed as I always am when I’m here. Warm weather, vibrant blue skies. A guy could get used to this, although I’d never actually leave Bridge Point.
We’ve had the entire morning to do whatever we wanted, which has consisted of Austin, Jensen, and I trying out a few of the local spots to eat, a quick trip to the beach, and a short nap back at the Winslow Hotel.
Now, I’m standing at the Rebel’s third base, staring down the line at Jensen as Austin pitches.
