“He wanted me to ink him,” I tell Dad, still smiling. “I said no.”
Dad’s eyes narrow, and Reece takes a small step back.
“She has a no-athletes policy,” Reece adds quickly. “Very firm boundaries. Extremely professional.”
“Good,” Dad says, his voice dropping an octave. “She’s smart.”
The silence stretches for a beat too long, awkward and thick.
“Well,” I say brightly, slinging my bag over my shoulder. “We should get going. Dad promised me a home-cooked meal, and I’m cashing in before he changes his mind.”
Dad doesn’t move. He’s still staring at Reece, his jaw set in a way I recognize from a thousand dinner-table lectures about responsibility, choices, and consequences.
“Steele,” he says finally. “Hit the showers. Practice is over.”
“Yes, sir.” Reece nods once, then glances at me. “Nice seeing you again.”
“You too,” I say, and I mean it, even if I shouldn’t.
He jogs down the bleachers, his shoulders tense, and I watch him disappear toward the locker rooms before turning to my father.
Dad’s still staring after him.
“What?” I ask innocently.
“Don’t,” he says, shaking his head. “Whatever you’re thinking, don’t.”
“I’m not thinking anything.”
“You’re always thinking about something.” He starts walking toward the parking lot, and I fall into step beside him. “Reece Steele is off-limits.”
“I don’t remember asking for permission.”
“Ava.”
“Dad.”
We reach his truck, and he unlocks the doors with a heavy sigh. “He’s a good kid. Great arm. But he’s also cocky, reckless, and has terrible taste in women.”
“Thanks for the glowing review.”
“I’m serious.” He climbs into the driver’s seat, and I slide into the passenger side. “Stay away from him.”
“Funny,” I say, buckling my seat belt. “He walked into my shop, not the other way around.”
“And you turned him down.”
“I did.”
“Keep it up.”
I don’t answer.
Because the truth is, I don’t know if I can.
Reece Steele, #30, the Wildcats’ ace pitcher, the guy my father has probably given a dozen speeches about focus and discipline,looked at me the way people look at art they want to own. Hungry. Curious. Captivated.
And I looked back the same way.
