Game On(10)

“No,” I said. “I’m a great journalist.”

She laughed. “Well, he certainly prefers, uh, journalists with confidence.”

“Does he?” I leaned in conspiratorially and saw some of the other girls behind us in the stands straining to do the same. “Tell me more about the kind of journalists he prefers.”

“Well.” She eyed the field, a playful twinkle in her eye. “I’ve seen him with brunette journalists in the past, though I’ve heard from some of the guys that it’s been a while since he’s had any good interviews.”

I grinned at the implication, but couldn’t help being surprised. I mean, just glancing around would show at least half a dozen girls who would be more than happy to show Nathan their, uh, press credentials. Surely a guy like him had no shortage of journalists looking to interview him in the most personal way. I could only imagine what I would do if I had his undivided attention. I would interview him all night long. Probably halfway into the morning as well. He looked like someone who was good with a long, hard line of questioning.

Goddamn my thoughts kept veering into extremely inappropriate territories. I blamed the baseball pants. They were too tight for their own good. Too tight for my own good, in fact. I wondered if there was somewhere nearby I could get a quick ice bath before I burned up thinking about Nathan’s butt. Instead I cleared my throat. “Good to know.”

“He also doesn’t like to be played.” Mandy was blunt, and this time she didn’t look at me. Instead she kept her eyes on the field and I followed her gaze. Nathan and the rest of the team were warming up. The rest of them looked fit and fantastic in their clean practice uniforms, each nicely shaped, from wide shoulders to tight buns, but I barely paid them any mind. All I could see was him. I had never really cared for guys in baseball hats, but it seemed that Nathan Ryder was singlehandedly reprogramming all my previously held preferences. Those preferences were gone. All I wanted was him. In that hat and nothing else, if I could swing it.

I smiled at my own little pun and then quickly shook my head. He was going to make me lose focus and I couldn’t allow that.

“I didn’t mean to play him,” I told Mandy, and I was telling the truth. “I didn’t know he was going to be at the bar. Besides,” I leaned back in the plastic stadium chair. “He approached me.”

“I know,” Mandy said, looking over at me with a smile. “I was there.”

I sat up. “You were?”

“Oh yeah,” she said, fiddling with the lens on her camera. It was a pretty fancy piece of equipment and she clearly knew how to handle it. “It’s the best bar in town. It’s where everyone goes.” She glanced behind us, and waved at some of the girls in the stands. “And I mean everyone.” She gave me a wink.

I scooted down in my seat, noticing some of the girls openly glaring at me. I probably owed every female in Austin an apology for my behavior last night. It was clear no one thought I was deserving of his attention, especially after I had rejected it. “So everyone saw what happened between us?” I vaguely remembered the table of guys in Longhorn hats, surrounded by tables of young women. Had Mandy been among them?

“Mmmhmm,” she said, lifting her camera and taking a few pictures as the players warmed up.

“I didn’t flirt with him,” I said and felt my face go red again. Nothing like having an audience while you embarrass yourself in front of Austin’s favorite ballplayer. Should have just stayed in your room last night, Hall, I thought to myself.

“Mmmhmm.” Mandy’s camera clicked and whirled with each shot she took.

“Well, I didn’t intend to flirt with him,” I said, though it was sounding a little pathetic, even to my own ears. Obviously I had enjoyed sitting at the bar with him, being on the receiving end of that smile of his. But who wouldn’t have wanted to be in my position? If I really thought about it, I had been totally helpless against his charms. It wasn’t my fault that he was so terribly good looking. I had just reacted the way any normal, red-blooded, straight (or bi-sexual) woman would have reacted.

If anything, it was his fault for turning on the charm so high. He was a menace to women in general and should be monitored accordingly. And, if anyone in this town had any good sense, he should have been ticketed for his unlicensed flirting last night. The thought of someone getting arrested for flirting popped into my head. And then I thought about Nathan getting arrested, by me in a tight cop’s uniform. And then I thought about Nathan in handcuffs. In my bed. My palms began to sweat. Shit. What was wrong with me? My imagination was working overtime imagining everything I could and would do to a guy like Nathan if given a chance. Focus, Hall, I told myself once again. Focus.

“Mmmhmm.” From the look on Mandy’s face, I could tell that she was sensing my incredibly naughty, very unprofessional thoughts.

“He approached me,” I said again. Now I sounded like a child. I slumped back in the chair, crossing my arms over my chest, trying to ignore the pounding of my heart. Now I probably looked like a child. My head had begun to ache again. It also didn’t help that I hadn’t eaten breakfast. I realized belatedly that I was hungry.

Mandy turned and gave me another smile. “He’ll get over it. He just needs some time.”

“I don’t have time,” I said, feeling frustrated. “I have an article to write.”