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A touch he felt all the way to his toes.
“How come it’s only the moms who swoon and not you?” He kept ahold of her hand for a beat too long, just until her blue gaze met his.
Up close, she looked even prettier, her skin scrubbed clean and her clothes smelling like the wildflowers that surrounded her whole house. Not that he’d been invited inside. But he’d driven out to Windy Meadows flower farm when he’d brought her home after she’d given him the grand tour. The rows and rows of blooms had been something to see.
“Maybe I’m saving my swooning for a guy that I don’t see professionally.” She tugged her hand back to pull the door shut behind her, sealing in the air-conditioning.
He switched off the radio. “I’m as good as healed, you know.”
“If that were true, you’d be sitting on the bench with your team in San Francisco this week. Or taking some at-bats in the minors.” She held up a bag with a doughnut logo on the front. “Want to share my breakfast?”
“No thanks. I already ate.” He knew he should be with his team. “Five years ago, I would have worked my ass off to get back on the active roster sooner. And I’d have done rehab on the road to travel with the team as much as possible. But I’m done trying to win team popularity contests.” There were a few guys in the locker room he didn’t care for, players who heckled him for some social media gaffes.
Dumb stuff that didn’t matter. Especially when he preferred to be judged on his baseball skills rather than his grammar.
“The reporters in Houston have done a lot of speculating about that.” Alexis bit into her doughnut and a few sprinkles fell from the pink frosting onto her lap. “I know it’s not my business. But I’m surprised you don’t speak out to shut them up.”
“That would mean explaining myself to them, and frankly, I don’t feel like I owe it to them.” Dealing with the media had been one of the worst aspects of his career. Once, in an attempt to get more positive press for himself, he’d offered an interview to a columnist he thought wasn’t half bad. The guy proceeded to send him a list of questions to review before the meeting.
Guessing what things said wasn’t always an effective approach to reading. Especially in a case where the words really mattered.
“What about your fans?” she pressed, carefully retrieving the fallen sprinkles from her shorts using her clear, glittery fingernails. “Don’t you owe them?”
Outside the truck, more cars filled the lot, the line at the table getting longer.
“I do.” There was no getting around the fact that he hadn’t given his best to his team this year. He’d played fast and loose with his health by getting in the motorcycle accident in the first place. And he’d let the rift widen between himself and teammates who’d called him out for not putting team chemistry first. “If I tell my manager I’m ready to rejoin the group next week, will you have dinner with me tonight?”
The question caught her just as she’d popped the sprinkles in her mouth. She turned toward him, blue eyes questioning.
“You’d do that for a dinner?” She sounded surprised as she swiped a paper napkin over her lips. Missing a tiny bit of pink frosting.
“I’d do a whole lot better than that if you’re open to negotiation.” Reaching over, he swiped the spot with his thumb, registering the petal softness of her lower lip as hunger jolted through him.
Something flickered in her eyes.
He hoped it was the same heat he was feeling. He guessed it was when her fingers flew to her mouth, touching the spot he’d just traced.
“I can’t.” She said it softly at first. Then she cleared her throat, and tucked the rest of her doughnut back in the bag before saying more firmly, “That is, you must know what you’re suggesting is impossible—”
“Is it?” He wanted to touch her again, but he was already worried he’d pushed his luck too far with her. “Because you’re on vacation this week, last I checked. Surely you’re entitled to spend your downtime however you please.”
“It doesn’t change the fact that I go back to Houston next week and I’ll be in the office seeing your teammates on a professional basis.” She shook her head, sounding exasperated. “I love my job, and the rules are there for a reason. I can’t just ignore them when it’s too much trouble.”
He wanted to argue his case—and he would have—if he hadn’t seen Clint Ramsey pull up to the registration table in a sports car that cost more than most people’s houses. Nate Ramsey’s father was a legend in baseball, but from what he’d gathered, the guy could be a bit of a jackass to his sons.
And after Nate being a good guy to him, Ty didn’t want to leave him hanging now.
He tapped her lips. “Let’s table this discussion for now.” He let his touch linger for a moment, then pulled his hand away before his willpower crumbled altogether. “Do you know Clint Ramsey?”
Alexis’s gaze shifted to the sports car currently blocking two others and nosing halfway into a handicapped spot.
“I do.” The tension in her shoulders told him what she thought of him.
“We’ll figure out dinner later,” he promised. “Right now, I’m going to show you I can be a halfway decent teammate when I need to be.”
He might not be a rule follower all of the time, but then again, he didn’t need a rulebook to tell him right from wrong. Nate Ramsey was a good guy, and that meant Ty would have his back.
*
