Page 5 of The Player I Can’t Pick

“Nothing. I just figured you’d be wearing a Jasper Bears hat.”

He smiles. “You really do know who I am.”

I roll my eyes. “Anyone who knows anything about baseball knows who you are.”

He holds his arm out to me. “Then you know it’s safe to let me walk you back to your hotel.”

I stare at his arm. I should probably say no. Walking anywhere with Guy Brody seems like the kind of decision that I’ll probably regret later.

Instead, I loop my arm through his.

He immediately pulls me closer to his side, and the warmth of his body surrounds me. His hand closes over mine where it rests on his arm.

We almost make it to the door before someone calls out behind us.

“Hey, it’s Guy Brody!”

Guy mutters a curse and starts walking faster, bringing me with him. A few more people shout his name, and his grip tightens as he guides me through the door and onto the sidewalk.

He doesn’t slow down until we’re halfway down the block and I’m nearly out of breath. “Do you always move that fast?” I ask.

He stops and turns toward me. “Sorry about that.”

He reaches up and brushes a strand of hair away from my forehead. His fingers linger against my cheek, and I lean into him.

“It’s fine.” I point past him. “My hotel is right there.”

He looks at the Regency and then back at me. His eyes narrow. “How old are you?”

I straighten. “Twenty-three.”

He tilts his head back toward the sky and groans. “Too young.”

I blink at him. “What?”

“You’re too young.”

Surely he didn’t mean that the way it sounded. “You’re what? Thirty-four? Thirty-five?”

His eyebrows lift. “You really do follow baseball.”

“I follow enough.”

He searches my face. “I’m thirty-six.”

I shrug. “Okay.”

His eyebrows lift. “That makes me thirteen years older than you.”

I laugh out loud. “I can subtract.”

His mouth twitches, but he shakes his head. “This is a bad idea.”

He steps toward me, and his hand goes to my waist. His fingers dig in, and I lean into him.

He looks down at me like he’s fighting with himself, and I suddenly understand exactly what he’s thinking. “I’m not going to sleep with you.”

His fingers flex against my waist. “That isn’t helping.”