“Then why are you here?”
“Because you texted me.”
“I sent one message.”
“You sent one message at two in the morning telling me you watched my game.” His mouth curves slightly. “You opened the door, Ava. I’m politely walking through it.”
“There’s nothing polite about ambushing someone at work.”
“There’s nothing polite about what I’ve been thinking about you for the past three days either, but here we are.”
Heat floods my face, my neck, and places I will not acknowledge out loud.
“You can’t say things like that in here.” The words come out strangled. “This is a professional establishment.”
“You want me to leave?”
Yes. No. Maybe.I don’t know anymore.
I cross my arms, armor against the way he’s looking at me. “What do you want me to say?”
“The truth would be nice.”
“The truth is you’re my father’s star pitcher, and this is a terrible idea.”
“We’ve established the terrible part.” He moves around the desk, closing the distance between us. Not crowding, not pushy, but definitely deliberate. “What we haven’t established is whether you care.”
“Of course I care. My dad would lose his mind.”
“I meant whether you care enough about it being terrible to walk away.”
Oh.
Oh no.
The bees in my chest swarm harder, and my skin feels too tight. He’s close enough now that I can smell his soap, something clean and woodsy, and I can see the flecks of gold in his green eyes.
“This isn’t fair,” I whisper.
“I know.”
“You’re supposed to be cocky and annoying.”
“I am cocky and annoying.”
“You’re supposed to make this easy to say no to.”
His expression softens. “Would it help if I did?”
I want to say yes. Want to tell him to put his arrogance back on, flash his smile, and say something so irritating I can boot him out without guilt.
Instead, I’m staring at his mouth and remembering exactly how it felt against mine.
“My dad,” I start, then stop. Try again. “Coach Bishop. Your coach. He’s already suspicious.”
“Of?”
“You. Me. The fact you walked into my studio and suddenly started pitching harder than you have all season.” I step back, needing space to think. “He’s not stupid, Reece. None of them are. The second this becomes real, people will notice.”
