“Don’t judge, firecracker.” My cheeks heat and I hate the way my body reacts to the nickname. “No one wants to drive over an hour back and forth on game days. I stay out in Malibu during the offseason or whenever we have a few days off. But usually, I stay at my place in Glendale. Makes the commute easier. Plus, it’s excellent for the environment,” he adds with a wink, as if that’s his whole motivation for having two homes in the same county. The environment.
“I suppose that does make a bit of sense. Someone should really go catch up with Dante because LA traffic is its own circle of hell.”
The laugh that bursts out of him is entirely unexpected. He stops walking to bend at the waist and catch his breath. “Wow, you really are hilarious. That was a good one.”
I can feel my lips twitch in an attempted smile.Isa, don’t you dare smile. I try to smooth out my face and hope it doesn’t show. “I suppose. So, um, which one is your car?”
“Right! It’s this one right here,” he says, walking a few more spots down and stopping in front of a BMW sedan.
It’s a more modest vehicle than I expected him to have.
“Something wrong?” he asks since I’m just standing there staring at his car in confusion.
“No, nothing. Sorry. Nice car is all,” I ramble off as I round to the passenger side. Climbing in, I feel the subtle luxury. The leather seats are incredibly comfortable and butter soft, I could probably sleep in them. And it has all the tech you can think of: cameras, lane assist, CarPlay, the works, really. Makes mine look like a real piece of junk.
I buckle in and look up to see him smirking at me from his seat.God, I hate that smirk. “What?”
“You thought I’d have some douchebag sports car, didn’t you?”
“What? No, of course not,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest and sinking further into my seat.
“You totally did! Come on, firecracker. Admit it, you assumed I’d have a flashier car. Kind of like you assumed I lived out in Malibu.” His grin is practically feline. He’s so excited by the prospect of me assuming things about him incorrectly.
I sigh. “Fine, yes, I did. Sue me. You’re this hotshot baseball player who makes millions a year. Whywouldn’tyou have a car that’s extra like that?”
He nods, face serious and voice deadpan. “You’re totally right. Because all athletes are the same and spend their money in the same ways. You know what they say about assuming right, Isa?”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, yeah, something about asses and me. I got it. But I will say”—I point a finger at him—“I was right about the Malibu house.”
He smirks at me before he buckles up and pushes the engine start button. “That you were, firecracker. That you were.” With one last wink at me, he stretches his arm over the back of my seat to turn himself around and reverse out of the parking spot. As if being in his car wasn’t overwhelming me with his scent enough, with his body so close to mine I’m going lightheaded.
SIX
WHEN YOU ASSUME
RYAN
I cannot believeI got her to agree to my offer of a ride. Well, I guess it was more of a demand than an offer but, you know, semantics and all. And she also didn’treallyhave a choice, unless she wanted to shell out nearly $100 for a twenty-minute ride. It was a no-brainer really. Accept the ride.
But now, as I pull out of the parking lot from the stadium, I find myself wishing the drive was longer.Fuck. Why couldn’t she have lived in Santa Clarita? Anywhere that would let me spend more time with her.
And then I hear it. The smallest, quietest of growls comes from the passenger seat. This is my in.
“Actually, would it be alright if we make a pit stop on the way?” I ask carefully. She wouldn’t be so rude as to let me starve, would she? If I make it seem like I’m the one who’s hungry, she’ll be more likely to accept, right? Especially if I’m not calling her out directly about the sound her stomach made. She’s a wild horse, she spooks easily. I don’t actually know if that’s true about horses. I’ve never been around one in my life. City boy throughand through. But it sounds right, so we’re going to roll with the metaphor.
“What kind of pitstop?” She looks at me, skepticism written across her face.
“I’m starved. I always pick up something to eat on the way home from a game. The pre-game meal in the clubhouse always feels like ages ago.”
“Oh.” I glance at her out of the corner of my eye and see her chewing on her bottom lip. It’s driving me crazy. I wish it were me doing that.Stop. She already shot you down.“Yeah, that’s fine. I could use something to eat too. Haven’t had anything since lunch before I went to the stadium.”
Luckily, we’re stuck at the red light, so when I whip my head over to gape at her, I’m not putting us in any sort of danger. “What do you mean you haven’t eaten since before work? You were there before the team!”
“Yes, that does tend to be the schedule,” she deadpans.
“No, I just mean, we’re due into the stadium at three for a 6 p.m. game. And you were there before us?—”
“Two if you’d like me to be exact,” she interjects.
