“I already knew that.”
“To say I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to happen that way.”
I arched a brow at him. “You didn’t mean to take me in the press box? To give me orgasms until I could barely stand?”
He hesitated. “Did you like it?”
“You know I did.”
“Well, then I definitely meant that part. It was—”
“The video. I know.”
He nodded, and we fell into silence. Then a moment later, he sighed.
“I just wanted you to know the real me. Away from all the sports stuff.”
I reached out and took his hand. I didn’t double think it. I just wanted to touch him, and so I did. And soon our fingers were intertwined. “You are all the sports stuff.”
“Not entirely.”
“You’re all the good parts about baseball. Mom and apple pie. Hometown hero makes good through hard work and talent.”
He tugged me closer until our arms pressed against each other. “I also like science-fiction movies and accounting.”
I jolted. “Accounting? Seriously?”
He chuckled. “It’s like baseball stats for a business. How else are you going to know how the farm’s doing?”
I let my gaze travel past the fire pit to the dark acres of corn. “So, are you going to take over the farm after you’re done with baseball?”
He shrugged. “I have no idea. I don’t love farming like my dad does. I just love playing with the numbers.”
I turned back to him. “I pitched a dozen articles about millennials who are fudging the rules or completely blowing them off. No one cared. Except when they took my ideas and gave it to more experienced reporters.”
He lifted our hands and pressed a kiss to my fingers. “Seriously? That sucks.”
“Yeah, it does. The only reason they didn’t take this story away from me is because no one thought I could do it. No one believed I could get a private interview with you.”
“You still haven’t,” he said, his voice low with warning.
“I know. But they’ll still pay me for a background piece on you, assuming it’s got something new and different in it.”
He sighed. “Don’t contact Jill.”
I didn’t say anything, but that was as good as an answer. He knew I was going to find her. He knew I was going to write something.
“Come live with me.” His voice was low, but the words carried clearly enough in the night air. As did my squeak of a response.
“What?”
He looked at me, his eyes dark while the fire lit the rest of his face. “If you move in with me, your rent’s taken care of. I can afford to carry you easily while you take some time to find a different story. One that no one can take from you. And if we’re living together, then no one is going to look twice at that video. Guys bang their girls all over the stadium.”
“That can’t be true.”
He ducked his head. “Well notallthe time. But it happens enough to make it boring.”
“You’re asking me to move in with you.”
