Why does me talking to his friend make him grumble? And why does his grumble make my stomach flutter?
“How so?”
“Because he’s dangerous.” I arch my eyebrow at him. “He is!” Coop says in a loud whisper. “He volunteers at a pet hospital on the weekend.”
I cough to cover my laugh. “And how does that make him dangerous?”
“Rabies, probably. Kennel Cough. Parvo. I bet he has it all.”
I have to duck my head, I’m laughing so hard. Coop pounds on my back, as if saving me from choking on a breadstick. But his hand lingers on my shoulder blade after the pounding, rubbing circles on my upper back.
“I think I’m okay now,” I mutter.
He rubs one final circle—softer and infuriatingly tender—and then he pats my back again. “There. All good. She’s safe, everybody,” he says. I kick him under the table, and that only makes him smile.
When the servers come to clear our plates and give us our soup, I take the opportunity to look at Coop.
His eyes are all over me. I can practically see the heart shape of my face as his eyes trace it.
That. Is. Hot.
No. I meanitis hot. In here. It’s hot in here.
You’re not allowed to date a player.
I’m not dating him,I argue with my mind. I’m flirting with him. Big difference.
And I’m not even flirting with him! I’m fighting with him. It doesn’t matter that I’m having fun doing it.
Our owner finishes his big speech, and no one claps louder than Coop.
“Great speech,” he says loudly to the table. “Rousing stuff. Didn’t you all think it was rousing?” Kathy nods from the other end of the round table, and a few others do, too. “Liesel, how did you like the speech?”
I hold back a glareanda smile. “It was great.”
“What was your favorite part?”
I hope my gaze tells him that I’m going to kill him slowly, painfully, and totally untraceably.
“I thought his idea for a unified vision throughout the affiliates was brilliant. ‘For the love of the game … and the fans.’ It’s a nice touch.”
“Thatwasgreat. Rousing, even.”
“Rousing,” I agree through gritted teeth.
He grins.
I don’t know how we make it through dinner. Coop manages to include others in our conversationjustenough that I doubt anyone else can sense his focus on me. But I feel it. I feel his attention like a physical weight. Because out of everyone at the table, he’s chosen to talk to Todd, a guy from the analytics department sitting on the other side of me. That means, every time he speaks to Todd, Coop leans so close, his face is practically next to mine. He drapes his arm casually around the back of my chair, almost around me, claiming my space.
It’s subtle. All in the name of being friendly with Todd. But it also forces me to participate, whether I want to or not. And I am firmly “Team Not,” as I have to remind myself again and again. Especially when his thumb “accidentally” grazes my shoulder or neck.
“What an interesting point, Todd. I agree that we need better entertainment on the Jumbotron during delays. Don’t you agree, Liesel?”
“I agree, Todd and Cooper,” I say, kicking Coop again.
For his part, Todd seems overjoyed to be talking to one of the best players in baseball. He’s a data engineer, so scoreboard production is outside his wheelhouse, yet he talks with the enthusiasm of a little kid who’s discovered Minecraft.
I gotta be honest: it’s boring the life out of me.
