Unbreakable (City Lights, #2)(87)

“The things I do,” I muttered, wiping the burning little droplets off my arm.

Cory was showered, dressed, and organizing his study materials when I called him from the kitchen. I set the breakfast bar with juice and strawberry jelly for the rolls, then poured the coffee.

“Okay, who told you?” Cory asked, taking a seat at the bar.

“Who told me what?” I asked innocently. I carefully pulled the popovers from their tins with a pair of tongs and put them on a plate. They had puffed up beautifully and I thought my father would be proud.

“It was Callie, wasn’t it?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. The eggs are dry, but I managed to not burn the sausages. Much.” I arched a brow. “Well? Eat.”

He laughed, shaking his head, and we ate my breakfast, which I was pleased to note was a lot better than merely okay.

“These popover things are good,” Cory said, smearing jelly on his second helping. “Watch out. People find out you can cook, and they’ll start expecting it.”

“Not going to happen,” I said. “This was a one-time deal, and aren’t you lucky?”

Cory gave me a sideways glance. “Mmmhmm. Why me, I wonder?”

I heaved a sigh and set down my napkin. “You’re no fun.”

I rose and went to my purse and withdrew a small white envelope. “I was going to give these to you later, but since you’re so insistent on ruining the surprise.” I slid the envelope over the counter and watched him take out the contents. I bit my lip. “I heard they’re good seats. A good view of the whole field, I mean.”

“Yeah,” Cory said softly. “These are good. Really good.”

I half-expected him to put the tickets back in the envelope and return them to me, but his smile was genuinely warm. Touched.

“They’re playing the Reds,” I said. “Um…Detroit?”

“Cincinnati,” Cory said, his gravelly voice low. “Thank you, Alex. I haven’t been to a Dodger game in ages.”

“Well, I hope you and Vic have a great time. Or whomever you take.”

Cory tapped the tickets on the counter like cards. “Oh, you’re not…? I thought…Oh, but you hate baseball, right?”

“Yeah, it’s not really my thing.”

“Too bad. If I take only Vic I’ll never hear the end of it from the rest of the guys.”

I made a face. “I was going to buy four tickets for that very reason but I didn’t want to be accused of going overboard. Again.”

Cory shook his head ruefully. “Okay, I earned that one. I was an * the other night and I apologize. Let me make it up to you. Come with me.”

“What…? To the game?”

Cory grinned. “Isn’t that what we’ve been talking about?”

“I’ve never been.”

“Never?”

“No, never.” I rubbed a spot on the counter. “Is it fun? It looks so boring on TV.”

“You can’t see it on TV the same way,” Cory said, his eyes lighting up. “You gotta hear the crack of the bat, drink a beer, eat Dodger dog.” He nudged my elbow. “Come on. Go. Live a little.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.”

“All right, I’ll go. But don’t expect me to all of a sudden start liking baseball.”

“You never know,” Cory said with a wink. “It could be your new favorite thing.”

#

Cory studied until early afternoon and then we drove to Dodger Stadium, arriving with thirty minutes to game time. I entered the gates in a kind of mild awe. Cory caught my expression.

“Pretty cool, right?” He grinned. “I can’t believe you’ve never been here before.”

“I was thinking the same,” I said. “But then, I’m not a baseball fan, remember? But mostly it’s my sixty-hour workweek. Not terribly conducive to outings like this.”

“Well, if you like it, there are a hundred and sixty-two games per season, which means roughly eighty home games you could potentially fit into your schedule.”

“Eighty?” I laughed. “I can’t imagine liking baseball enough to see eighty games. Could you?”

“Hell yes,” Cory said. “But Callie’s not a huge fan…yet. I’m still working on her. If she got into it, I would definitely want season tickets, right on the first base line. Otherwise, yeah, that’s a big time commitment.”

I nodded and glanced about. The stadium felt cavernous and smelled of popcorn and cotton candy. It echoed with thousands of footsteps and the laughing, booming voices of boisterous fans, most of whom wore Dodger blue—including Cory who wore a t-shirt emblazoned with the Dodger logo, though my eye was drawn more to the way it cut across his chest and broad shoulders.

There were a handful of red shirts in the crowd for Cincinnati, and I couldn’t help but wonder if they were displaced Ohio fans, or if they actually flew halfway across the country to be here. I couldn’t imagine liking the sport enough to do such a thing, but one look at Cory’s rapt expression and I guessed it wasn’t so crazy after all. Promise kept, Callie, I thought, pleased with myself. Now to fix the seats and make this perfect for him.