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He laughs.
“I mean it, it’s a great angle.” I grab my notepad. “We should use that in some of the materials.”
“My injury?” Austin scrunches his eyebrows down. “Really? I don’t know that it’s newsworthy.”
“It is,” I insist. “The spa is a promising business, but you’re the brand. Your experience as an athlete, your profile… The more people connect with you as a person, the more they’ll trust you, and want to see what you’re providing here.”
“I guess…” Austin glances away, looking reluctant. Then he changes the subject. “Whereabouts are you from?”
“Long Island.” I reply, still scribbling some notes.
“Are your folks there still?”
I nod. “What about you?” I ask, curious to learn more about my boss—and the man who has unwittingly turned my life upside down in a single week. The press articles I saw online were short on biographical details, and long on the way he looked in his tight baseball pants.
His tight, tight pants.
“My sister and nephew live nearby,” Austin says, with an affectionate smile. “They’re the greatest. I can’t imagine ever living more than a few trains from them.”
“Is your sister older or younger?” I ask. “You can tell a lot about a man by his sisters,” I add, and he chuckles.
“Older. And never lets me forget it,” he says. “She doesn’t give a shit about the surface stuff going on, she’ll aways give it to me straight. She’s basically my hero—don’ttell her I said that, if you ever meet her around the office.”
I smile.
“Surface stuff,” I repeat. “What does that mean?”
Austin thinks about this, pausing for more pizza. “Even when we were kids, she never paid attention to whether my team won or lost. She noticed if I tried a skill I’d been working hard on, if I supported my teammates, if I kept a clear head if another player was antagonizing me—that kind of thing. Without my family, I think I could have gotten a big head about baseball. My hometown is obsessed—the way Texas is about high school football? We’re that way about baseball.”
“So you must be a serious hometown hero.”
“I am,” he confirms—honest, but still modest. “But luckily, I was born into the only family on the block who didn’t follow sports.”
“Oh?” I finish my bite, trying to chew daintily. “Were your parents against you playing ball professionally?”
“Not against it.” he says. “But they worried about my future. They wanted me to have a traditional career or a trade to fall back on.”
“They must be thrilled about this,” I say, gesturing around to my beautiful new office, in a fancy new building. “You not only did the baseball thing, but now you’re launching a whole new business, too.”
“I guess,” Austin looks pleased. “I just want to prove I can do more than swing a bat, you know?”
Maybe it’s because this whole double-entendre thing is our in-joke now, but I’m proud to say, I barely choke on my pizza at the phrase.
Or the image it brings to mind…
Down girl.
Of course, then I ruin my nonchalance by dropping a glop of pizza sauce down my front. I mutter a curse, and reach for a napkin without realizing he’s making the same motion. Our fingers brush for a split-second, and we both startle back like we’ve been burned.
Our eyes lock. Man, does this guy have gorgeous eyes…
I tear my gaze away. There I was, doing such a good job of pretending like Austin Banks is just a normal, regular boss for ten whole minutes.
But nope. Still the most captivating man I’ve ever met.
“Well, I should get going,” I blurt out, suddenly panicked that he can read my attraction all over my face. “I’m… Dog-sitting. For a neighbor.”
“Oh, sure.” Austin stands. “That’s nice of you. What kind of dog?”
