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“You think I’m cute?” A sly smile takes hold of his face, the kind of smile you can’tnotbe enamored with. The kind that constructs butterflies in your stomach whether you want them there or not.
“Going by the North American informal definition of cunning in a self-seeking or superficial way, yes.”
Finn’s eyes light with amusement. “Did you just quote the dictionary to me?”
“I did. Got a problem with that?” As you might guess, English was and still is my favorite subject. I’m a lover of words. I use them a lot in my profession and have an uncanny memory when it comes to their definitions.
“No, no problem.” He’s trying really hard not to laugh. “Webster.”
I throw my hands in the air, even thoughthatnickname I secretly like. “Do you nickname all the strangers you meet?”
“Just the pretty ones.”
“Smooth,” I say with a shake of my head. He no doubt compliments every woman he meets. “But overused.” I put out my palm. “Hand over your phone. I’ll take the picture.”
He looks like he’s ready to yank the sling off his arm and throw it across the parking lot, but instead he gives in to my request. I put the card down on the hood of my car and snap the photo. After checking to make sure it’s a clear shot, I say, “Would you mind letting me know the cost of fixing your car before we go through insurance companies? I may pay out of pocket.” I hate the idea of depleting my savings account, but it might be the better option in the long run.
“Sure.” His fingers brush mine when I give him his phone back, and a surge of heat charges up my arm. Our eyes lock. Hold. “I should also get your digits then—” he glances down at the photo “—Chloe Conrad.”
His saying my name shouldn’t make me weak in the knees, but it does. We’re no longer strangers, not that he’ll remember me or give me any thought beyond fixing his car.
I snag the phone back and type in my number. Then I call myself. My phone rings from the car. “Now I’ve got your number, too.” I never answer my phone if I don’t know who’s calling.
“Would you like a name to go along with it?”
“That’s okay.” I hand back the phone.
His blue eyes dance. “You already know it.”
“Why would I know it? Are you famous or something?” I turn to go before he can see the truth on my face. “I’ll wait to hear from you and uh, sorry about hitting you. I don’t think I said that.”
“No worries.”
I wish. Life isn’t exactly going to plan at the moment. At least my next job assignment should be easy. My boss said it was a perfect fit and I’d get the details on Monday.
“Oh, and Chloe?”
I pause before sliding into my car and look at Finn.
“Nice try.” He tips his head toward my front bumper and winks. Actually winks! Normally I find winking cheesy, but not when Finn does it. His wink is like a calling card forlet’s get naked and run our hands and mouths all over each other.
Then it hits me. My license plate frame. It saysBaseball…The Perfect Game. Shit. Can’t a girl catch a single break?
“See you around, Webster.”
No, he won’t. Not if I can help it.
Chapter Three
#BatterUp
Finn
Inow understandwhat people mean when they say they feel an instant connection to someone. I can’t get Chloe Conrad out of my head. The second her big honey-brown eyes met mine I was drawn to her in such a major way, it scared the hell out of me. She was beautiful, yes, but there was something about her that went beyond simple awareness. Ilikedher and had this instant primordial desire to claim her like I was Tarzan and she was my Jane.
Insanity is what that was.
And the reason why I won’t call her. She is a temptation I don’t need or want. I’m focused on one thing and one thing only: baseball. I hope to have another ten years in the game, at least, which means I’ve got to continue to look out for myself. When I do something, I give it 100 percent, and right now that something is my career. I’m nothing without it.
