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Chris pulled out his phone. “Put it all on my bill.”
“You don’t have to.” He’d paid for my beer when we’d gone out a few weeks ago, and he’d bought my breakfast both times we’d bumped into each other. Not to mention the coffees he’d brought with him each time he’d come to see Puff.
“I don’t mind.”
“I know you don’t, but you keep paying for things, and now this friendship is unbalanced. Let me get it.” I pushed my card across the counter.
He swallowed and furrowed his brows. “Uh. Okay, but that’s not just my salad.”
“Oh.” My stomach sank, though I couldn’t explain why. The man was baseball’s most eligible bachelor. Of course he dated. I didn’t know why I got the impression he didn’t. “I guess you should probably pay for your date’s food. I’ll pick up the tab next time.”
“No.” He shook his head. “It’s Hannah’s lunch.”
I tipped my head. “Hannah? As in the woman you blocked?” Wow, that had taken a sharp turn. Although enemies to loverswasa thing. It could explain the reason he’d had fewer outbursts over the last month or so. Maybe he was trying to impress her.
He smirked and tapped his phone against the reader to pay for all the food. “I can see your mind working. It’s not a date. I’m meeting with Hannah to talk about a project.” He took a breath and blew it out as he scrutinized me with what I swore looked like a little nervousness. “Actually, if you’re not busy, I’d love it if you came too.”
“You want me to come to your meeting with Hannah? Did you unblock her?”
He ran his tongue over his front teeth. “Out of necessity.”
I tilted my head and studied him. “What’s so important?”
“If you come, you’ll find out.” That almost smile was back, and it made my stomach flip.
“Well, now I’m curious, so I can’t say no.”
With our bags in hand, we walked the three blocks to the Langfield compound. Since they owned both the baseball and the hockey teams, they’d built the stadiums side by side, and the corporate offices were housed across the street. There was a rumor that a players-only bar existed in the tunnels under the space between the two stadiums, but I’d never seen it. Supposedly, it was invite-only. Had Chris ever brought anyone down there?
I glanced at him. The veins in his arms were prominent as he gripped the bags of food in front of him and glared straight ahead. He clearly had something on his mind, even though he didn’t say much. That mysterious and broody vibe only added to his sex appeal. He may not have had a date today, but he was a gorgeous guy in his twenties. He definitely dated.
The idea took some of the pep out of my step. But I couldn’t harp on it. He had a right to do what made him happy.
“Do you not want to come?”
I jumped at the sound of his voice. He hadn’t spoken a word since we left the deli, and I was still fighting with myself to release all thoughts of Chris and his dating life.
“No,I do, but…” I nibbled on my bottom lip as a new wave of anxiety washed through me. “Is she going to mind that I’m here?”
My dad’s retired number sat in the middle of the large blue outfield wall, and he’d gone down in history as one of the Revs’ best pitchers. Plus, he’d worked with the team for years. But apart from the random game here and there, I didn’t come by the stadium anymore. And I never intruded on meetings.
“I don’t give a shit if she does. I want you there.” He pulled the huge glass door open with his free hand and waved me in with the bags he was still clutching. “If you want to come and I want you here, why does anyone else’s opinion matter?”
When he put it that way, he was right. So, with a smile, I stepped inside the building and headed to the elevator.
We stepped off on the floor that housed the PR department and theowners’ offices, and he guided me to Hannah’s office. When he knocked on the door, Hannah looked up. She was wearing a smile, but when her focus landed on me, it dropped. “Avery?”
My stomach sank right along with it. That wasnotthe warmest welcome.
I shifted on my feet. For a minute, I’d been confident it was okay, but now? “Uh, Chris invited me.” I peered up at him for backup, only to find him scowling at Hannah. “I hope that’s okay?” The question was meant for her, but I was fixated on the vein pulsing in Chris’s temple.
He huffed out a breath and stomped toward her desk. “Isaid it was okay. I don’t give a shit what anyone else thinks.”
Hannah snorted. “It’s always such a pleasure doing favors for you.”
This was a favor for him?
“It’s going to create good press for the Revs, so don’t pretend your help is selfless.” He pulled a white paper–wrapped sandwich from the brown bag and dropped it onto Hannah’s desk. “And I bought you Arti’s.”
