He nodded.
She laughed, thinking of the evening spent recounting Rowdy’s failed romances and her broken heart. “He’s a really great guy.”
“I don’t want to hear it.”
She laughed harder. Her eyes darted to the clock. “I have to go. I have a tour coming.”
“When can we talk again?”
She bit her lip. “I don’t know. I need some time to process.” She circled her finger, indicating them and all that had happened.
He nodded. TheI love youwas there, but something held him back. Like it would be putting too much spin on his pitch. He wasn’t counting this one as a ball. This was a strike. Which, for a pitcher, was a good thing.
He was catching up in the count.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Tilly
Tilly’s head hurt. She thought she’d walked all the elementary schools in the valley through the stadium, but apparently, she’d missed three. And they all signed up on the same day. Add to that the fact that every time she turned around, someone was asking her if she and Brayden were back together, and you got a giant headache.
She didn’t know what to tell people. Mostly she smiled and said, “We’re working on it.” But she hadn’t seen him in two days—not since he’d massaged her neck, kissed her like a prince, and then left her with too much to think about and not enough brainpower.
The man seriously knew how to kiss.
She landed in her Jeep and just stared out the windshield. Brayden’s apology had thrown her for a loop. A good loop. Hearing him acknowledge that he’d hurt her, and that he hurt because of that, went a long way to mend the tears he’d inflicted on her heart.
What she needed was a good meal, a long shower, and her bed.
When she pulled into her driveway, she found Brayden sitting on her front porch, his back against her door, bags of takeout all around. She shook her head as she climbed out of the car. “How’d you get home before me?” He was supposed to have a session with Gunner that went well past her last tour.
“I drive fast.” He took a bite of the Chinese food. “Hungry?”
“Famished.” She sat next to him, careful to leave enough space that they didn’t touch. Her body couldn’t be trusted around this guy. It had talked her into kissing him, and that didn’t do a thing for her head.
“You were busy today.” He handed her the open container and dug through the bags for another one.
She sniffed. Teriyaki chicken and veggies. She relaxed against the door and picked up the chopsticks that were stuck in the box. Already her headache was fading. Brayden opened a new pair of chopsticks for his food. The scene was familiar. They often ate takeout on his back patio, overlooking the golf course. Of course, they’d usually be at a table, but this was nice too.
“If I have to tell one more kid to dump the dirt out of his pockets and back on the field, my head’s going to split in two.”
His forehead wrinkled, all adorable-like. “They steal the dirt?”
“Handfuls.” She ate a piece of broccoli. This box was full of it. No doubt Brayden had been pushing it aside to get to the chicken. “I tell them that there’s red dirt all over this valley. They can get it anywhere.”
He cocked a smile. His old smile. The one he had when he didn’t have a care in the world except the next game he pitched. “Well, when it’s been walked on by kings …”
She bumped him with her shoulder. “Whatever.”
They ate in silence for a while, taking their time. It was a good silence. Not the kind that pressured her into filling up the space or said that there was anything wrong between them. Just a quiet that she could relax into and let the stresses slip away.
He offered her rice, and she took it, dumping some on top of her teriyaki chicken. “This is nice. Thanks.”
He nodded. “You looked like you could use dinner.”
“I didn’t even see you today. When were you around?”
“About ten.”
