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When he disappeared, I finally let myself relax. Yes, breakfast was a great idea. I needed to get out of his apartment. With every minute that passed here, it felt as though the walls were closing us in and forcing us closer, and I needed a bit of fresh air and space.
“Don’t forget your sling,” I called down the hall.
He popped his head out of his room and glowered at me. “I thought we established that I wasn’t wearing that.”
“I said you could take it off when you laid down to watch the game, not that you never had to put it back on.” I stepped out into the hall and crossed my arms. “You want it to get better, don’t you? Or would you rather worry about the pain that will shoot through you the next time someone crashes into you on the field?”
With a huff and a roll of his eyes, he shut his bedroom door behind him.
I let out a long breath. At least the weirdness was gone.
Twenty minutes later, he was shifting his arm in the sling and once again complaining.
“I am not a fan of this thing,” he said as we walked toward the diner.
“Mason Dumpty.” For at least the third time since we’d left his apartment, his name was being shouted. This time from across the street.
In a heartbeat, Mason’s glower was replaced by a grin, and the fun-loving baseball guy Boston loved had returned. The fan jogged across the road, and after he snapped a selfie and gave Mason a fist bump, he was gone. It was impressive the way Mason could turn on his celebrity athlete persona like that. If I was constantly being interrupted, I’d get annoyed. In fact, I was trying not to be annoyed when the fifth person of the morning stopped us. Mason didn’t seem bothered by it, even though all the attention stretched what should have been a ten-minute walk into thirty, and his stomach was growling so loud there was no way the last two fans hadn’t heard it.
“We finally made it.” Mason held the door open for me and waved me in.
Despite my best effort to remain unaffected by him, his boyish smirk had my stomach flipping over itself.
An older woman in a pink shirt with blue-gray hair smiled brightly as she moved toward us.
“Mason Dumpty.” She clapped her hands. “Damiano and Knight stop in regularly. We wondered if you’d grace us with your presence one of these days.”
“You must be Pam.” Mason pointed to a photo on the wall of a short stack covered in whipped cream, fruit, and chocolate chips. “I keep hearing about you and these banana pancakes, so I thought I’d come by and see what all the fuss is about.”
“Oh, you’re in for a treat. Everyone loves our banana pancakes.” She took him in, cocking one brow when her gaze landed on the sling. “That was one hell of a catch.”
A smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “If only I could remember any of it.”
“Aw, poor dear.” She patted his good arm, then turned to me, like she’d just noticed me standing beside Mason. “And who’s this?”
“My babysitter for the next week.” He winked at me, then turned back to Pam. “She’s pretty, isn’t she?” he mock-whispered.
I shook my head and smiled at the older woman, but quickly dipped my chin, hoping to hide the way my cheeks heated in response to his teasing.
We followed Pam to our table, and when it was time to order, we both went with the banana pancake special. Throughout our meal, we were subjected to one curious glance after another. I tried to ignore them, but the scrutiny made me uneasy, especially as I shoved pancakes into my mouth, doing my best not to make a mess. Mason, on the other hand, seemed completely oblivious to it, or maybe he was just used to it.
Along with the looks, I did my best to ignore how much this felt like a date, especially when he paid. Maybe I should have put up a fight over the bill, but in the end, it was easier to let him.
So much for my vow to keep our relationship professional. As we left the diner, I told myself that from that moment on, I would do better.
With a grunt, I flipped the newspaper shut. The last two days had sucked.
No, that wasn’t fair. I’d actually had fun hanging out with Aurora, but now I was worked up. Sometime after leaving the diner on Tuesday, she’d put up some serious walls around what was okay and what wasn’t. She had to get close, had to touch me, when it was time for the stretches and exercises that my shoulder required. But during every other waking moment, she kept a six-foot bubble of space. And there were no more Harry Potter voices reading. Instead, she gave me a book or a newspaper so I could read on my own.
As much as I complained about the restrictions she and the team doc had put on me, my eyes were tired after just five minutes of reading. They got tired after ten minutes of playing cards. But at least I had stopped losing to her at rummy yesterday.
And the Revs were playing better too. Potter was no longer missing stupid catches, and he was batting well enough that the team was winning. Aurora had been letting me watch the games as long as I didn’t jump up and down and scream at the TV. I’d done well not letting myself get worked up.
Until now.
Although it wasn’t the Revs making me crazy.
After that intense moment in my bedroom a few nights ago, Aurora had been guarded. She’d kept our relationship strictly professional, which was something I’d typically appreciate. But with her, I didn’t.
