Page 56 of Double Play

I thought she’d like it.

“I love it,” she whispers, swallowing hard while glancing back at the cover decorated with actresses dressed in old-school female baseball uniforms. “And it’s a record.”

“No one listens to CDs anymore,” I remind her. Learning she currently collects albums felt like kismet. Aimlessly browsing through albums one afternoon with Montgomery back in January, I came across the record and knew exactly who would enjoy it. Isaiah had recently called to tell me his sister was moving to the area. Finding the old album was ironic, so I bought it. And I’ve been holding onto it ever since.

“But where did you find this?” She finally looks up at me while smoothing her hand over the cover.

“It’s Nashville. Vintage vinyl stores are located every five bars,” I joke, but the sudden tears glistening in her eyes causes my throat to clog.

“Hey, hey,” I quietly soothe, stepping closer to her, brushing over her smooth cheek. “There’s no crying in baseball.”

With a wet laugh in her throat, India sets the album on the kitchen table and launches herself at me. I chuckle as I catch her, tightening my arms around her lower back as her arms circle my neck.

“It’s the most thoughtful gift ever,” she mutters below my ear.

“It’s only a record,” I state.

“It’s everything.” She pulls back to look me directly in the eye, and I swear there is more on the tip of her tongue. But the oven beeps, fracturing whatever moment we were about to share, which I’m certain would have led to me taking her down to the hardwood floors or clearing her kitchen table to spread her out as my personal dinner feast.

Instead, I rein in my raging hormones and finish arranging the fixings for our nacho night.

twenty-four

. . .

[India]

Declan’s gift was so thoughtful I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I also couldn’t stop thinking about taking him up to my bedroom and skipping all the other items on our at-home date list. If I worried that Declan wanted to see me publicly, he reassured me repeatedly last night when he called me late after the game to arrange tonight.

A date at my house. He’d provide the activities, including dinner.

I was hopeful the evening would include strip poker minus the poker.

Instead, we have casual conversation during dinner, discussing the merits of nachos and then tease each other about other favorite, or not so favorite, foods. How can anyone love meatloaf?

After dinner, he insists he’ll clean up while I sit and watch, and I’d never seen anything as sexy as a man cleaning up my kitchen. I want him to bend me over the kitchen island, so I can express my gratitude for him.

Declan has other plans. “We could listen to your new record?”

We could and it would definitely spark some memories for me, but I have another suggestion.

“How about we watch the movie?”

“Netflix and chill?” Declan keeps his eyes fixed on my face, but I let mine roam, drinking in the tight tee and loose jeans he’s wearing. He kicked off his shoes earlier, exposing strong bare feet.

I’m not certain I’ve ever been turned on by naked toes, but I am with his. Everything about him is a green light. The plant. The dinner. The gift. Him standing in my kitchen.

The moment feels right. Too right.

Because Netflix and chill has its own meaning, I laugh. “I don’t fuck on the first date.” Thankfully, we’ve established this is our second date.

Declan laughs as well, as we’re already a little past the fucking stage. He walks over to me, wraps his arm around my neck and pulls me toward him, muttering into my temple. “Neither do I, sweetheart.”

Surprisingly, I’m a little disappointed at his comment but I direct him to the living room off the small kitchen, and we settle on my couch which faces a gas fireplace with the television mounted over the mantel. The setup isn’t exactly what I’d wanted, reminding me too much of how my previous home was laid out but the situation works best in this room which feels nothing like my old house.

This place is mine, like I’d told Declan. Not surprisingly, I am happy to share the space with him.

Declan slouches into the cushions, curling me into his side. I loop a leg over his outstretched ones, where his ankles rest on the ottoman in front of the couch. With the lights off, the television illuminates the room, and Declan and I settle in to watch a movie about women playing baseball in the mid-40s, breaking records and barriers.