Page 32 of Convincing the Catcher

I mean, it may not be an actual date—because that’s a no-no in my book—but we’re at a semi-upscale restaurant, and my hair is straightened. I even wore my new top that I had gotten a few weeks ago when I was out shopping with Haven. So, it’s the closest thing to a date without actually being one that I’ve seen.

“You know, aside from a few comments on my latest video, asking if I’m dating a baseball player, no one really seems to know we’re friends.” I twirl some pasta onto my fork. “And I was checking out your comment section earlier, and while I do think it’s dying down, you still have more negative than nice ones.”

He cringes. “Yeah, I deleted the app from my phone. That way, I wouldn’t look.”

Taking a bite, I roll my eyes at him and wipe my mouth.

“Well, dumbass, if this is going to work, you’re going to have to redownload it so that I can tag you in something and you can repost it.” I stop, eyeing him over. “I mean, a deal is a deal. And while I very much appreciate the fact that you paid for my prescriptions—especially since, if not, I wouldn’t be eating this amazing pasta—aside from me bidding on you, I haven’t done anything on my end to showcase this fake friendship of ours.”

When the waiter comes to check on us, I smile sweetly at him.

“Do you mind taking our picture?”

“Absolutely,” he says, holding his hand out until I set my phone in it. “Gotta get a picture of the best dinner spot with one of the greatest-looking couples I’ve seen.” He winks.

Even though Cane is surely not going to correct him, I shake my head.

“We’re just friends,” I say.

Right away, his eyes light up. I know I messed up because now, he probably thinks I’m coming onto him or something.

Positioning our bodies toward him, we hold our glasses up and smile.

“All right, say linguini,” he chimes, and we both do, even though I feel like a weirdo.

“I took a few,” he says, handing my phone back to me. “Do you two need anything else for now?”

“No thanks,” we both reply, and he walks away.

Taking another bite of my pasta, I practically moan.

“My God, that’s so good.” I sigh. “Why does it have to be so bad for me? I kinda want to bathe in that sauce too.”

“That’s … actually gross.” He chuckles.

After wiping my mouth, I waste no more time before I begin digging through the pictures to see which is best. Flipping back and forth, I decide on one and hold it in front of Cane for him to look at.

“Wow, he wasn’t kidding.” He smirks. “We are a sexy couple.”

“He didn’t say that.” I groan, pulling my phone back. “And we are not a couple.” Looking down at the picture, I nod. “This is the one. I’m going to post it to my stories and tag you.” My eyes lift to his. “Which means you need to log in and repost.”

He simply stares at me for a moment before he points his fork downward. “Let me finish my steak, woman. And then I will. Deal?”

“I’ll allow it, but only because I want to finish my pasta too,” I say matter-of-factly. “Even if I do end up needing another shot, at least the carb load will have been worthy of it.”

He smiles at me, and I hate how much I freaking like it. His white teeth flash, and my eyes float to his dimple. My heart flip-flops, and I want to scream inwardly at myself to stop being so pathetic. He’s just a guy. An attractive, charming guy.

That’s it.

That’s all.

CANE

We walk back to my truck, and I instantly regret parking so far down the street from the restaurant when I see Harley shiver. The thin sweater she threw on when we walked out isn’t doing shit for this chilly October night—that’s for sure.

Peeling my jacket off, I drape it over her shoulders without even thinking twice. It catches her off guard, and she quickly turns her body slightly toward me.

“Oh …” She looks from me to the jacket. “You didn’t have to do that. The truck’s just down over the hill. Besides, now you’ll be cold.”