Gunner looked her way and his traveling gaze stopped. A slow, easy smile spread across his face, the kind photographers adored and women swooned over.
She ducked, not wanting to be caught staring. He seemed nice enough, answering the questions about where he played before coming here, his goals as a pitcher, and how he liked St. George. She crossed her legs and waited out the introduction. As soon as they were done here, she could go home. If she didn’t hurry, she’d hit her driveway at the same time as Brayden hit his. That would ruin her whole avoid-him-at-all-costs plan.
She looked up again to gauge how much longer Mr. Claude might go on, and Gunner winked. Shocked, she dropped her gaze to her lap. He winked!What was that?Mr. Calude asked him if he’d tried Neilson’s Custard yet. He applied that carefree smile and said he hadn’t.
Tilly muscled up some courage and looked up through lowered lashes to study him. His beard was thick and nicely trimmed, and his eyes were a dull shade of blue. She wasn’t being mean; they just didn’t do anything for her. She preferred brown eyes. Crap! She did not. She just preferred Brayden. But he’d moved on with surprising ease. She should too.
She uncrossed and crossed her legs. Yeah. This hot baseball player had winked at her. That was something. Just because she didn’t want anyone but Brayden didn’t mean it wasn’t nice to be noticed by a guy—a guy who made the women in the room stare at him like he was a chocolate fountain and they were starving.
Mr. Claude thanked Gunner for coming and ended the meeting. A few ladies crowded around Gunner, welcoming him to the Redrocks family. According to Mr. Claude, that’s what they were supposed to call the organization in all their communications within and without the stadium.
She left, moving a little slow so she didn’t accidentally bump into a chair with her sore shin. One more accident and she’d put herself in a walking cast. She was in the front office reception area, crossing the giant Redrocks logo set in mosaic tiles in the floor, when she heard an “excuse me?” come from down the hallway.
Since the only other person there was Amelia, the receptionist, she turned and found Gunner lightly jogging her way. T-minus three minutes. If she didn’t leave within that time, then she’d have to find a way to stall for an hour. Brayden’s schedule, though predictable, wasn’t as precise as hers. He could get caught up talking to a player or coach and be twenty minutes late. She either had to get home before him or wait an hour to ensure she was after him. The effort it took to circumvent an accidental encounter was exhausting. All she wanted was a warm bath and a pair of yoga pants. She put on a pleasant face. “Hi.”
“Hi. I’m sorry; I didn’t catch your name.” Gunner seemed larger up close, broader.
She blinked. “Was I supposed to introduce myself?” She’d spaced out there at the end of the meeting and not paid attention. It’d look awfully rude if she’d walked out.
“Not officially. I just wanted to meet you.” He tucked his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels.
She relaxed. “I’m Tilly Creswick. And you’re Gunner Pinch.” She offered her hand, and they shook. He had a pitcher’s hands. Short fingers, though. Brayden’s hands were—Stop it!
“So, you’ve been here longer than I have. Do you think this team is really like a family?”
She nodded. “Yes. Harper Wolfe is the benevolent, cool aunt—even though she is much too young to be an aunt to these people—still, she is darn awesome. Coach Wolfe is the dad, making sure the team does what they’re supposed to. Jerry, the computer guy, he’s the weird cousin. The players are the teenaged boys who eat too much, play all day, and don’t clean up after themselves.”
“Ouch.” He covered his heart as if she’d wounded him.
She laughed a little. “Don’t act wounded. I think you can take it.”
“I don’t mind it so much when it comes from a pretty lady.”
She put a hand on her hip. “Well, aren’t you a charmer.”
“Am I charming you?”
She laughed again. He was quick. Even though she liked talking to him, he did not make butterflies fill her belly. “You’re certainly trying.” She felt awkward semi-flirting with this guy, like her words were coming out flat instead of round.
“Gunner.” Sheila walked toward them with her signature quick-quick-step. Her heels left small dents in the carpet behind her like a trail of bread crumbs she could use to find her way back to the meeting room. “Can I borrow you for a moment? We need to go over your volunteer schedule.”
“Sure.” He flashed a million-dollar smile at Tilly. “I’ll see you around?” The question had real weight to it, like he was hoping they’d bump into one another again.
She lifted a shoulder. “It’s always a possibility.” Was that even flirting? She wasn’t aware. It was always easy to flirt with Brayden; the words rolled out of her with a saucy grin or a sway of her hips. He brought out the woman inside of her and made her feel girly, even if she was covered in trail dust and didn’t have any makeup on. He was good that way.
Ugh! He was good in so many ways. Why did he have to turn into such a jerk?
Chapter Fifteen
Brayden
The next day, Brayden was waiting for Gunner when he got to the bullpen. Gunner had done some warm-ups on the field, so it wouldn’t hurt him to get right into it.
Newton gave him a funny look as he did up his shin guards. They’d talked about giving Newton a few extra minutes to try and get Gunner to throw the curveballs, but Brayden wasn’t going to let the catcher do his job. That wasn’t how he played ball, and that wasn’t how he was going to coach. Brayden gave Newton a small nod to let him know that he had this.
Newton returned the gesture and made his way behind the plate, checking the side strap on his chest protection.
“You bring me another set of wacky balls?”
