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“Yup.”
“So, what’s the big deal? Don’t women love that whirlwind romance shit?”
If only it were that easy. “She doesn’t want to pursue it. At least, not right now. And I can’t tell if she’s putting me off, using the job as an excuse.”
Javier whistled. Not his usual, cheerful tune, but a low, mournful note. “That’s a tough call. But the job isn’t an excuse. It’s a reason. Neither of you can endanger this team. But you can’t exactly stay in the game and stay here, either.”
That was where Chris had gotten stuck, too. Somewhere between staying in baseball, which he couldn’t do in Michigan, and being near Maggie, which he couldn’t do in North Carolina. Neither was guaranteed to make him happy.
“Maybe you should let her decide,” Javier suggested. “Put both options in front of her. ‘I got this job offer, but I don’t want to go because I want to date you.’ She’d have to be a real devious person to tell you to stay just to use you for sex.”
Chris would never have accused Javier of having common sense, but that advice sounded dangerously close to it. Still, it seemed like a dodgy prospect. “What if I do that and it scares her off?”
“Then I guess your decision is made, either way, right?” Javier slung his bag over his shoulder. “I wish you luck.”
He whistled a funeral dirge on his way out of the clubhouse.
Chapter Seven
The nice thing about working from home was absolutely nothing. Maggie hated bringing her job home with her, and it was even worse when “home” didn’t feel like home yet. Her condo was beautiful, far enough away from the ballpark so that she wouldn’t feel like she lived there full time. Except, when she was trying to balance staying invested in her company and staying on top of things for the team, she found herself shuttling from her day job at the park to her night job in her home office.
When the doorbell rang and she checked the clock, she realized it was ten-thirty already and she hadn’t even bothered to eat dinner.
I have got to start living like a grown-up. I have to remember to at least eat.
She stood on her tip-toes and checked the peephole. The moment she recognized the person standing on the other side of the door, her breath caught in her throat.
“Hey, how did you find me?” she asked, opening the door to let Chris in.
He held up a plastic bag full of take-out containers. “Your assistant sent me. She texted me and said that you probably hadn’t eaten dinner, but she was too swamped with quarterly projections?”
“Not for the team,” she clarified as he carried the bag to the open kitchen. “It’s New York business stuff.”
“What do you do out there, anyway?” He shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it on the counter, then set to unpacking the take-away.
She didn’t know how he did it, but he managed to look like he belonged in her kitchen. Like he was absolutely made to bring her dinner and be interested in her job. She’d never met anyone who looked so comfortable in her crazy life. “Believe it or not, I founded a company that develops software for the hospitality industry. Cash register operating systems, reservations scheduling across national hotel chains.”
“And that’s probably to do with the pizza place, right?” he guessed with a half-smile.
“Yes. And no.” She shook her head fondly. “I got into it when I realized how inefficient dad’s systems were, chain-wide. But my brother won’t make the switch to our company. We’re too expensive for him.”
“Can’t even give the poor guy a deal?” Chris looked up, hand frozen on a bag of crab rangoons. “Wait a minute. Are you wearing the suit you wore to work today?”
She looked down. She’d shed the sleek gray jacket, but she still wore the knee-length skirt that matched and her black silk blouse had wilted into an extremely unattractive, ruffled mess. Sheepishly, she admitted, “I guess I didn’t slow down to change.”
“Why don’t you go change into something comfortable—and I don’t mean that in a sexy way, I promise—and come eat? You can finish whatever you’re doing tomorrow, right?” He opened one of the cartons and sniffed it, then made an approving face and set it aside. “I’ve got five different preparations of chicken here, you don’t want to miss this.”
“Putting things off until tomorrow is Molly’s job,” she protested, but her stomach rumbled as the smell of Chinese take out hit her nose. “Fine, give me two seconds.”
She jogged down the stairs, to the master suite, and found her softest, baggiest sweats and t-shirt combo. If Chris was serious about wanting her to be comfortable, he would have to accept the reality of what she looked like in her downtime. She pulled her hair up and quickly, guiltily dashed into the bathroom to swish her mouth with Listerine. There was a pretty good chance he would want to kiss her, and no man should have to endure her breath after an entire day of not eating and chugging back enough coffee to stop a rhino’s heart.
