Game On(14)

The frown deepened and I realized I had misjudged that statement. Not the best angle to work. I sobered up immediately.

“I promised that to a girl in a bar. Not a journalist.” He sounded like he was clenching his jaw. OK, so the smile and the angle wasn’t the way to work this. I needed to try something else and fast. But before I could tone it down, he was already walking past me towards his car.

A truck, of course. A big, “let-me-help-you-into-the-cab-by-putting-my-hand-on-your-butt-and-giving-you-a-lift” kind of truck. A boy car through and through. Shiny red and recently detailed.

“I promise, I can be both.” I tried to catch up, but he was already yanking his car door open.

He turned to me, baseball cap still pulled low. I saw a glimpse of his green eyes beneath the lip, but he was not making eye contact. “Last night was a mistake. And it’s better for both of us if we just forget it happened.”

“I didn’t mean to lead you on.” I hoped he could tell that I was being honest.

“Maybe one day I’ll believe that.” He got into his car.

“See you tomorrow!” I said, trying to sound upbeat even though I was kicking myself.

He clenched his jaw again and shut the door. There wasn’t much I could do as he pulled out of the parking lot, leaving me behind in a metaphoric cloud of smoke. So I just stood there, trying to figure out what my next move was going to be.

I heard a throat clear behind me and turned to find Chris standing by his own truck. It was parked next to a car that was more my style, a beat-up old Nissan that looked like it was on its last legs. It reminded me of my poor Honda Civic, currently sitting in the fancy hotel’s parking garage no doubt feeling terribly out of place. Kind of like its owner.

“Come back tomorrow,” Chris told me with a slow smile. From everything I had observed about him today—during the few moments I had torn my eyes away from Nathan—I had been able to gauge that he was a pretty decent player himself. Not necessarily MLB material, but he probably had a good shot at a career in the minors. He didn’t have the same intensity as Nathan, more of a slow-moving, take-it-as-it-comes approach. Not a bad way for a catcher to be. “Maybe he’ll be in a better mood then.”

“Thanks.” I walked over to him. “I’m Sophie.” I held out my hand, relieved when he took it.

“I’m Chris.” He gave me a once-over. Slowly. “You don’t seem like trouble.”

“Is that what Nathan called me?” Trouble was hardly the worst thing I had ever been called. But Nathan didn’t seem like he hated me, more that he didn’t trust me. And I couldn’t really blame him for that. “My intentions are pure.” I held up a hand. “I swear.”

“Well, your intentions might be pure.” Chris smiled. “But I don’t think it’s your intentions that are really bothering him.” He leaned forward, his expression just slightly conspiratorial. “We all saw you guys last night. He doesn’t hit on women in bars. Ever. I think he feels kind of stupid that you turned out to be a journalist.”

That explained why he was more annoyed than angry. And why he kept looking at me like he was imagining me naked. Not that the feeling wasn’t completely mutual. Inappropriate and distracting, but totally mutual. “I should have said something sooner,” I admitted.

“Probably would have turned out the same way,” he shrugged. “We know you’re legit. He’s just feeling kind of dumb about the whole thing. Don’t give up.” Chris smiled. He had a nice smile and seemed like a nice guy. Apparently all of them lived in Austin. It was no wonder that Mandy liked him.

“I would never,” I promised, and his smile grew bigger.

“Good to know.” He waved over my shoulder. I turned and saw Mandy heading into the parking lot, cradling her camera bag. “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” he said, but his eyes stayed on Mandy. It was like I wasn’t even there. Perfect, I thought. They both seemed to be interested, but they clearly needed a little nudge. Nudging was my specialty.

“That bag of hers looks like it’s on its last legs,” I said, noting that he not only had an expensive truck, but his clothes, though just jeans and a t-shirt, were clearly well-made. He was also wearing a pair of fancy sunglasses. He was the kind of guy I would have fought my fellow waitresses over. Moneyed, but clearly polite. A Texan boy, born and bred, the kind that talked slow, moved slow, and generally took his time enjoying life. You got good tips out of a guy like this. Now it was my opportunity to return the favor. “It really needs to be replaced.”

“Huh?” Chris finally looked back at me.

“Mandy’s camera bag,” I pointed out. “I know she just got that camera—bet she’s worried about her bag breaking open. She would probably be heartbroken if something happened to her equipment.”

“Yeah.” Chris looked thoughtful. It seemed like he was open to suggestion. Another good sign. “It does look like it’s falling apart.”

I leaned in a little closer, but not close enough that he or Mandy would think I was hitting on him. Just a friendly amount of leaning in. “Bet she’d be really grateful to get a new one. Don’t think they pay her at the school paper.”

I could see the pieces clicked in his head and he turned to me with a smile.