“Mom never worried aboutme.” Rachel had been the one with a new guy every night, though admittedly not lately. In truth, her wildness had ended after high school.
My sister waved that away with a casual flick of her hot-pink nails. “Whatever. The point is, you’re trying to be bold. So take some risks. Prove to yourself and the world that you’re not a pushover.”
“It’s just an experiment in rejection.”
“No, it’s not. It’s you learning that you can survive when things don’t go your way. You’ve done a great job of being refused by harmless strangers. Now it’s time to step up your game.”
She was right. But damn it, I didn’t want to do it with my secret crush. That kind of rejection would haunt me for years. Which, now that I thought about it, was the whole point. To feel the sting and go on.
“Can’t I just ask Dad for a new car?”
“Please, we got used to Dad saying no the minute we hit puberty. Where’s the risk in that?”
She had a point. And worse, she knew it. Then she leaned in and delivered the coup de grâce.
“You’ve wanted Jake ever since you first saw his baseball card. This is your chance. But not as his flavor of the night. You could be a real, honest-to-goodness date. One he respects.”
“Or rejects. In front of my family.”
“Who will love and support you while I kick his ass to the curb.”
And she would. Assuming Connor didn’t get there first.
“I didn’t bring any clothes with me.” This was just supposed to be a quick trip to Chicago for the party and some bonding time with my sister. And because, as much as Dad loved showing off his famous nephew, Mom always needed help with the party.
“Please,” Rachel drawled. “I have plenty of outfits. And we both know he’s going to say no anyway.”
At that moment, I realized I had to do this—ask Jake Armstrong, the hottest shortstop in the major leagues, to go out with me.
“I think I’m going to throw up.”
Chapter Two
Jake
Despite the fame of the hot dog, roughly 83 percent of the people at this backyard barbecue preferred a cheeseburger. And of the remaining 17 percent, at least half of them wanted a burger, but didn’t want to wait because the Bobcats had already scarfed down all the cooked beef patties.
I couldn’t help myself. I had a thing for statistics. I noticed the oddest things. Like…although 100 percent of the people here were sweating in the June heat, at least 90 percent of the BO came from Bob, our host, who had clearly spent way too much time slaving over a hot barbecue. But he was funny and the uncle to Connor, everyone’s favorite catcher, so no one said anything, even when he leaned much too close as he handed off extra beer.
It’s what I did. I counted. I guesstimated. And I was usually right.
But what I hadn’t counted on was that our host’s too-cute daughter would walk tentatively in my direction. Though she tried to hide it, she was sweating—and not from the heat. Her fingers twisted together until she stilled them into fists at her side. And then, clearly on impulse, she grabbed a cold beer from her father, popped the top, and chugged back half the can.
Clearly the woman had lost a bet with her sister, who was watching with gleeful excitement from the sidelines. Well, it was gleeful…until I caught her gaze and she gave me a death stare. It was a warning: play nice or else.
Which, naturally, made me lean back in my seat and decide that I’d rather play dirty.
I looked back at the shy sister. She was cute in the way of all small-town girls. Strawberry-blond hair cut short and sassy; a loose tee that showed intriguing curves, but wasn’t tight enough to upset Mom and Dad. Her denim shorts were very short, softly cupping what I call an irresistible heart-shaped ass. And best of all? She was looking at me with a hint of daring that had little me perking up with interest.
Down boy!I ordered sternly. It wasn’t cool to mess with my host’s daughter. Not when I was the inner-city kid hanging out for the afternoon in the suburbs. And it was doubly uncool to play with a girl wandering over to the wild side on a dare. Just because my dark side loved breaking a good girl, that didn’t mean I was going to let it out. And certainly not with Connor’s delectable cousin.
Besides, just last week, I’d had another conversation with team owner Joe Deluce about how my playboy ways could damage the team image. So naturally, I was on my best behavior.
Meanwhile, Miss Temptation Incarnate started out in the usual way. “Everybody get enough to eat? I’m sure there’s more potato salad in the kitchen. I can—”
She was interrupted by a chorus of denials. Mrs. McDonald’s food was top-notch, but nothing beat watching a sweet girl come on to a player. Everybody would be kind to her, but tomorrow, I’d be ribbed mercilessly in the locker room.
Meanwhile, Connor straightened up in his seat and tried to distract his cousin. “Hey, Ellie, how’s work at the hospital? Kill any patients yet?”
