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And she wasn’t against a repeat. In fact, she was all for it. But she wouldn’t let him future fake her into believing something that wasn’t ever going to happen.
“We had an amazing night, yeah. But I’m asking for more. Give me a chance because I think we’re good together.” He cleared his throat and continued. “I have a black-tie event the third Saturday of June. Let me fly you out to New York for the weekend. Be my date.”New York. She hadn’t been there in fourteen years.
She sighed. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see him again. Ryan was hot, fun, and something about him pulled at her. But a rich, larger-than-life New Yorker had burned her before, and she wasn’t naïve enough to fall for it again.
“It’s your turn to talk again, baby.”
“If I say yes, what happens between now and then?”
“We talk, we text, you get better at the phone, and I see the team doctor about ulcer medication.” He laughed.
“You’re having stomach issues?” He hadn’t mentioned it the other night.
“For the last twenty-four hours.” He chuckled again, but she didn’t get it.
“It’s probably not an ulcer then,” she assured him.
“It will feel better if you agree to come out to New York. It’s three and a half weeks from now. I’m pitching an afternoon game that Friday, and then Saturday’s an off day for the Metros fundraiser. What do you say? Come see me, please?”
Bridget took a breath.
“Bridg, I know you felt the connection between us. Give us a chance to be something more.” The low growl rumbled through her.
Her mind flitted back to the wish she’d made the day before the bar opened. Jo had made all five women put up the first wishes on the wish wall. Bridget had wished simply for something more. At the time, she hadn’t known what thatmorewas, but hearing the words from Ryan’s mouth made her heart flutter. Because every phone call and text message made her wish the something more could be them. Trusting the party boy of baseball with her heart would be a huge risk.
“Okay, I’ll come.”
“Yes, you will, baby. Multiple times.”
8
“I’m not playingin the All-Star game. I don’t give a shit. My elbow needs rest, not a meaningless extra game.”
This was bullshit, and he was waiting for the Metros manager to call him on it. His elbow was fine, but the trainers were being overly cautious. They’d scheduled an MRI for Ryan, and the only reason he’d agreed was because they’d scheduled it for Monday. That meant he didn’t have to fly to Detroit Sunday morning after the fundraiser, so he would have more time with Bridget.
Tom Kontos narrowed his eyes at Ryan before he looked to his right to Ben Dobson, the pitching coach. Ben turned to Marc Demoda, the coach called in when things were bad. And it was ridiculous. He was pitching well, and the swelling in his elbow was minimal. But he wasn’t going to tell themthat. He didn’t want to pitch in the All-Star game in three weeks. He’d already planned the trip home to Tahoe. To Bridget. Although he hadn’t told anyone.
Marc looked up from the folder he was studying. “I’ve watched the tapes. His form is spot on. His pitching is on fire, and although I’m not debating the swelling, there’s no indication of pain at all.”
Ryan narrowed his eyes at Marc. They’d been teammates before Marc started coaching, but if the fucker said he could play in the All-Star game, they were going to come to blows.
Marc shrugged. “But why chance it? Corey’s playing in the game. Why do we need to send two starting pitchers?”
Damn straight.
Dobson opened his mouth, but Marc put his hand up. “I’m with you, Ben. I get that a letter from the team saying he’s hurt isn’t ideal, but it’s better than an actual injury, right?”
“It’s probably just overuse,” Dr. Mitchel said. “But regardless of next week’s MRI results, the week off with armrest”—he hit the word hard and glared at Ryan as he said it—“would help.”
“Fine,” Tom Kontos agreed. “We’ll pull you from the game.”
Ryan nodded.
“Can we get out of here, then? It’s almost nine, and my wife is going to force me into early retirement if I’m not home soon.” Marc chuckled.
“Twins giving you a run for your money?” Dr. Mitchel asked Marc about his five-month-olds.
“Colton is probably the easiest little guy on the planet. And Peyton sure is cute,” Marc said.
