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He called her. Some things couldn’t be properly conveyed via text message.
“Isn’t it great?” she gushed by way of answer. Clearly she’d been sitting on her phone waiting on a return text and was perfectly fine with a conversation instead. “My publicist already called me. She’s thrilled with the response. One of her trackers says the picture with the proposal caption has been shared twenty-five thousand times.”
The phone nearly slipped from his suddenly nerveless fingers.
“Twenty-five thousand? Really?”
God, the nightmare just kept going, didn’t it? How was it possible that people cared so much about something as unimportant to their daily lives as two people they’d never met getting engaged? And it was a lie, besides.
“That’s just the one with your hand on my thigh. The other one is better, but it’s not getting as much traction, probably because it’s not as splashy.”
The other one? Wedging his phone against his ear, he did another search and so many results scrolled onto his screen, he could hardly fathom it. There. He clicked.
The photographer had gotten a one-in-a-million shot in that moment after Logan had pulled away, in between the first and second kisses, just as Trinity had started to reel him back in. They weren’t kissing, not yet, but the raw desire on her face was unmistakable. This picture was worth a thousand words, perfectly encapsulating what he’d felt as he’d been sucked into her—as if flesh and bone had dissolved, leaving only their essence behind.
She’d felt it, too. And he hated sharing what should have been a private moment with the world.
He hated a lot of this.
“I’m not buying you a ring,” he muttered. “Are you the one who planted that caption?”
“No, I was just as surprised as you were. It might have been my publicist, but she won’t admit it.”
“We have to set the record straight. That’s nonnegotiable. I don’t mind letting a bunch of strangers think we’re dating, but it’s not fair to the people in my life to let them think there might be a wedding in our future when there’s not.”
“Why do we have to say anything?” She waved off all of his concern with that one airy statement. “No one is asking for an interview. Let it ride. See how your numbers are Monday morning and then let’s strategize some more.”
Easy for her to say. If the Mustangs won today, he’d most definitely be in front of a dozen sportscasters, and he’d bet good money they’d ask him about his love life.
They didn’t win.
But by noon on Monday, he had evidence in his hand that people were buying tickets regardless, in record numbers. Logan McLaughlin had become the poster boy for the Dallas Mustangs ball club, and Myra had very specific ideas for how to capitalize on it.
Logan bit his tongue and picked up the phone to call Trinity.
Five
There was literally nothing about baseball that had matched Trinity’s expectations. Case in point: when Logan had called her to ask if she’d go on a road trip with him, she’d actually thought he meant a road trip. Like the kind every single person on the planet except Logan would interpret as two people in a car driving somewhere.
Not what he’d meant.
Fortunately, jetting off to San Francisco for a few days to watch the Mustangs take on Oakland fit her need to not be at work on Monday. She might even call herself pathetically grateful to have a valid excuse for why she couldn’t be at Fyra giving the nonexistent Formula-47 presentation.
Also, Logan had failed to mention that the Mustangs had a private plane for away games, which made the trip even more fun. The entire fuselage had been fitted with first-class-size seats, which made her feel even tinier in a cabin full of large men, but she reveled in the luxury.
Shortly after takeoff, the flight crew began circulating with drinks and food. Logan casually took Trinity’s hand, lacing their fingers together. Strictly for show. She knew that. But it put a little tingle in her stomach that she secretly didn’t hate.
She was looking forward to a lot more tingle in her future. After all, this trip was the perfect opportunity to take their relationship to the next level, both on camera and off.
“Tell me again,” she murmured with a nod at the middle-aged man Logan had introduced her to earlier as the Mustangs’ manager. “You’re the general manager and that guy is the manager with no other title in front of it?”
“Right. It’s a weird baseball thing. I never think twice about it.” Logan’s thumb brushed over her knuckle as he spoke and she wondered if he even realized he was doing it. “Gordon is the coach and I’m the CEO.”
