“...shiniest—”
I tilt my chin to the side. “Maybe you have been paying attention.”
“...most audacious home so you could throw parties every night.”
My head shakes as I level her with a mirthful glare. “We have so much to learn about each other.”
I catch Randy rounding the back of the truck and step back just in time.
“I didn’t know you were bringing company.”
“Last minute change of plans.” I give him a toothy smile. “Coach, meet Alex and Mags. Alex is the new reporter forDiamond Breakdown,and Mags is her lovely grandmother. I offered to make dinner for them since their hotel toilet exploded.”
“It did?” Mags gasps, her neck snapping in Alex’s direction.
Alex’s eyes laser into mine for two heavy beats before she sags a little. “Yeah. I forgot to tell you because I…I was—”
“You were distracted by my great game,” I offer. “They called right in the middle of our clubhouse interview. Luckily, the plumber is fixing everything, and it should be like nothing ever happened. They just need a few hours. That’s why I was soinsistent on you both coming to dinner. The casita is the perfect place to rest.”
A trickle of sweat slides down my temple, but I don’t dare wipe it away. I hate lying like this. Misleading the press to protect your privacy is one thing, but my stomach feels like it’s filled with boiling battery acid after lying to Alex’s grandmother this much. Regardless, I’m grateful that all those years of helping Georgia practice improv is finally paying off.
Randy slaps me on the back. “Is that why you keep renting it year after year? It made sense when you were a rookie, but now…”
“That’s exactly why.” I beam at my former coach. “Restorative mountain views within chatting distance of one of the best coaches in baseball.”
Randy waves me off, his blush reaching the base of his shiny skull. “You have to say that.”
“I don’t,” I tell him, being absolutely serious. “If they ever make a documentary of my life, you would absolutely be in it. I’m the player I am today because of you.”
He jostles me, just like he used to do when I was half his size. “No making me tear up when I’m about to meet the Mrs.”
“Going anywhere special?” With the casual way Alex asks, I’m not sure if she’s digging for information to establish a timeline or genuinely wants to know.
“We’re meeting at that new restaurant downtown. The one with salsa dancing.” When Randy pantomimes a little dance move, a grin flickers across Alex’s lips.
“Lucky man,” I tell him, only slightly jealous.
I love dancing—be it eardrum-splitting clubbing, the chicken dance, or anything in between.
“Don’t I know it.” He gives me another hearty pat. “Nice to meet you, ladies. I hope everything works out with your hotel.”
“It will.” The slightly sharp edge of Alex’s words is clearly directed at me.
I lead the two of them around the side of the main house where an artistic wrought-iron gate opens to the shared backyard. Like most of the houses in this area, it’s xeriscaped. A paver walkway steers us beyond the furnished covered patio, complete with brightly colored pillows. Bursting agave, ocotillo, and lantana are artfully interspaced between the rose-colored rocks.
“Wow,” Alex breathes, gazing at the purpling mountain range beyond the casita.
“Right?” I smile, pausing beside her.
The terracotta shingles on the little house seem to sparkle with the last remnants of light.
Using my key, I hold the door open for Mags to enter first before realizing that I left in a hurry this morning.
“Wait.” I block the open doorway with my body. “Give me a minute to cleanup first.”
“I’m sure it’s fine.” With surprising strength, Mags gives my stomach a sturdy shove.
The second Alex steps inside, her eyes bounce everywhere. I’m sure her reporter brain is ruthlessly cataloging the piled dishes, my gear sprawled throughout the cozy living room, and the damp towel strewn on the floor halfway out of the bathroom. I set the grocery bags on the counter, quickly collecting three half-empty coffee mugs and my protein shaker.
