Hank gazed with rapt attention at the players on the field, but Bethany found herself distracted by a little boy in front of her with straight black hair and a gap-tooth grin. Hekept smiling at her over his mother’s shoulder. Then there was a middle-aged man a seat over with long white hair and his belly hanging over his belt buckle, drinking a beer. And—the girl seated three rows in front of them on the right—was she staring at them? The girl tapped the arm of her friend next to her, who turned her head to take a peek. Bethany looked away.
Then the seventh inning stretch came and craziness ensued. The girl and her friend asked Hank for his autograph, then the man next to her did the same, and soon, a small crowd circled them, all demanding Hank sign whatever they had to offer. In some cases, it was their shirt, in others, a napkin. A lady asked Hank to sign her forehead, which he laughed and did. Bethany shifted her weight from one leg to the other and wondered how Hank continued smiling. Thank goodness the game resumed, and everyone returned to their seats.
“Sorry,” Hank said, offering her a lopsided grin.
“It’s okay,” she said, but seconds later she wished she’d held her breath.
The cameras on the field panned to them, and the next thing Bethany knew, her giant mug appeared on the big screen next to Hank’s. She stared in horror, but Hank tapped her shoulder. When she turned to look at him, he offered her a slow smile, as if he saw the big screen as an opportunity rather than cause for alarm.
“It’s the kiss-cam. We can’t disappoint them.”
Before she could fully grasp what he planned, he kissed her in front of the entire stadium. The kiss was short but thorough, and when he separated from her, there were cheers and clapping all around them.
Hank’s grin seemed satisfied, but Bethany felt her cheeks grow hot and her heart and lungs freeze. She sippedher drink and kept her eyes down to avoid looking into all the faces turned her way. A few minutes later, the game resumed, and she let out her breath bit by bit. Her heart resumed its normal thumping in her chest.
She poked Hank in the side and put her hand over her mouth so no one else could hear. “Tell me we didn’t just kiss in front of thousands of people.”
Hank laughed but kept his voice low, thank goodness. “Okay, we didn’t kiss in front of thousands of people. More like a million, if they broadcast to the viewers at home.”
She narrowed her eyes. “This doesn’t concern you?”
“Not at all. It concerns you, I take it?”
“Hank, people are going to think we’re an item.”
He laughed again, and she had the urge to slap the silly, satisfied grin off his face. She might have, too, if it weren’t his birthday outing, and if it didn’t remind her of all the female leads in every dramatic film she had ever seen. She gripped her drink and gritted her teeth.
“Why do you care what they think? We are an item.” He nudged her arm with his. “Aren’t we?”
She rolled her eyes. “No, we’re not.”
“Then why do you kiss me?”
“We shouldn’t be kissing at all.”
His lips drooped into a pout, but it didn’t detract from his good looks. If anything, it added to his charm. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t like kissing me.”
Her eyes met his blue ones. “I don’t like kissing you.”
He chuckled. “Liar, liar.”
Bethany’s lips twitched. The truth was she did like kissing him, and they both knew any denial was a lie.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Maybe it was the homemade apple pie and vanilla ice cream she and Hank ate after the game or the tender way he looked at her when he kissed her good night—like she was his girl. Or maybe it was the slew of messages left on the restaurant’s voicemail from reporters who’d seen the kiss-cam and wanted an interview. Whatever it was, she went to bed with a jumble of confused thoughts in her brain.
Bethany tossed and turned most of the night, wrestling with vague dreams of being lost in an amusement park. No matter how much she searched, she couldn’t find the way out.
In the morning, she woke with a headache and blurry eyes, but a firm decision in her mind. She would not go with Hank to Los Angeles—despite how tempting the invitation was, despite how much she liked him, despite the attraction sizzling between them and how much he made her laugh. She was not cut out for Hollywood—look how she’d freaked out about the kiss-cam. Hank needed someone who could deal with his high-profile lifestyle. And she hadresponsibilities here. This was not the time for a vacation. Voting would begin soon, and she needed to promote Grandma Lou’s as much as possible.
She ran a hand through her curly mop and gazed in the bathroom mirror at the dark smudges under her eyes.
Mistake, mistake, mistake.
The single word echoed in her mind like the lyrics of a song she couldn’t shake. She rehearsed what she would say to him as she took a shower and got dressed, her stomach quivering.Hank, I can’t go with you. I’m sorry. I don’t want to leave the restaurant. It would be wise if we don’t see each other outside of business.
By the time she arrived at Grandma Lou’s, she’d worked herself into a jittery mess as she went over all the reasons that visiting Los Angeles with Hank was a bad idea. She grabbed a knife from a drawer and began dicing vegetables for minestrone soup
