Page 13 of The Pitcher’s Proposal

Her brows rise. “That’s relevant to what?”

“There’s a place on Poplar I’ve been meaning to try. Delfino’s. I’ll probably go tomorrow around seven.”

Understanding settles into her expression. “You’re informing me of your dinner plans?”

“I value transparency.”

“Of course you do.”

I wait, but she doesn’t say she’ll come. She also doesn’t say she won’t.

“I should get going,” she says after a moment.

“Yeah.”

She takes a few steps, then turns. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“Anytime.”

Her eyes remain on mine for another second before she walks away.

Tomorrow night, I’ll be at the restaurant at seven.

The rest is up to Dakota.

5

DAKOTA

It’s only dinner. I know that, and I’ve been reminding myself of it as I walk to the restaurant. Brendan and I have spent plenty of time together over the past eight months, and after yesterday, I know we can talk about things that have nothing to do with work.

Still, my stomach has been fluttering since I left my apartment.

I wanted this date. I wanted it even when I was turning him down all summer, when flirting with Brendan was easy because there was always a counter between us or another player walking past or some reason I could remind myself that none of it was serious.

Now I’m in a dress that fits closer than anything I wear to work, a long camel-colored coat, and heeled boots I almost talked myself out of twice.

When I turn the last corner, Brendan is standing outside the restaurant. My pulse jumps. I’m used to seeing him in team gear, athletic shorts, uniforms, and baseball caps. Tonight he’s wearing dark pants and a deep blue button-down shirt. His hair is combed casually back, his jaw is freshly shaved, and his shirt fits him obscenely well.

Then he sees me. His expression changes so quickly that any doubt I had about my own outfit immediately disappears. His gaze moves over me, and warmth spreads in my chest.

“Hi,” I say when I reach him.

“Hey.” His eyes dip briefly. “You look incredible.”

“Thank you. You look very nice too.”

“Very nice, huh?” He grins. “I’ll take it.”

I laugh, and some of the nerves in my stomach ease. Then I notice the piece of paper taped inside the restaurant door. A mechanical failure has closed the restaurant for the evening, with an apology and a promise to reopen as soon as possible.

“Oh, no.”

“Yeah. I feel bad for them.” Brendan looks through the darkened front windows before he turns back toward me. “Well? Want to walk and see what we find?”

“Sure. Let’s do it.”

We head down the block together. The night is cool, and most of the trees have started turning, with dry leaves collecting along the edges of the sidewalk. Restaurants are busy, and people move between bars and shops in coats and sweaters.