I didn’t want to, but the industry was shrinking. A smart girl would switch to a career that wasn’t firing seasoned reporters. If he’d spent the last three years thinking about my question to him, I’d spent the last three years envying his success at baseball. How I wished I had hit the top in journalism right out of college. Best to turn the discussion back to him.
“You never had to make that choice, did you? Money or passion. It was baseball all the way, and here you are with a multimillion-dollar contract.”
“Sure I did. I made it a thousand different times.” He took a bite of his cheeseburger, forcing me to wait for him to explain while he chewed. “I could have gotten a job in high school, but I wanted to play. In-season, off-season, I was at the park hitting. Finally got a job watching the cages because I was always there.”
I nodded. “See? You didn’t have to choose.”
“I did,” he stressed. “Every time I got asked to go to a party or went out on a date. I broke up with my first two girlfriends because they took too much time away from baseball.”
I winced in sympathy for the girls. How awful would it be to be dumped for baseball training?
“You had an all-American childhood,” I countered. “It says so in all the literature.”
“If by all-American you mean I trained, went to school, and trained some more.”
“You loved it.”
He grinned. “Exactly. I chose my passion and I’ve never regretted the things I gave up so I could play.” He gestured to the field down below. “And look where it got me.”
He had a point. He’d hit the major leagues and all the money that came with being a superstar.
“But what if it hadn’t worked out? What if something happened and you got injured or you just weren’t talented enough?”
He swallowed a fry, then went back for the water bottle. It looked like he was just eating, but I thought I’d detected a wince. Maybe a flash of terror. But when he finally spoke, his voice was easy and controlled.
“If that happens, then I’ll figure things out then.” His look turned dark. “Patience also means I have to accept it when things aren’t how I planned.”
Huh. “That’s so not how I was raised.”
“You an überplanner?”
“My backup plans have backup plans.”
He nodded. “And what has that gotten you?”
I groaned. “A Hail Mary pass while I try to get an interview with the area’s newest superstar.”
He coughed. “Good luck with that.”
“Yeah.” I sighed. “I’m not sure what I’m going to do now.”
He reached forward and stroked my cheek. It was a quick gesture, executed with a friendly grin. I felt his thumb at the corner of my mouth as it swiped upward. Then he pulled back and showed me the smear of mustard he’d lifted off my cheek.
“I love mustard,” he said with a grin. Then he licked his thumb, and I just about died. Flat-out died. He was flirting, and I was tingling. His eyes were dancing in merriment, and I was wet and aching. I couldn’t stop looking at his mouth or thinking about where I wanted him to lick next.
And while all those thoughts were burning through my brain, he had to go and say exactly what I was thinking.
“You were the best night of my life.”
“That can’t be true,” I said, annoyed that my voice was hoarse. “You’ve had a spectacular career and you’re just getting started.”
“It was,” he stressed. Then uncertainty flashed through his expression. “Wasn’t it the same for you?”
“I—um… Well, yeah, but…” Lord, my tongue had just decided to go rogue and blabber without direction. He looked at me, and I finally blurted out the truth. “It, um, ended rather badly. For me.”
He blinked. Two full closing and opening of his eyelids as he apparently tried to process what I’d said. “Because I’d…because I left?”
“Yes, because you left!” God, men were so stupid sometimes. “That wasn’t a normal thing for me, you know. I don’t just sleep around.”
