Page 29 of Keep Me

My brain short-circuits and fails to compute what he just said as my body responds to his attention, wanting more of it. We stare at one another for a beat, then he clears his throat.

I sit up straight in my chair and cross my legs. “How thoughtful of you. I’m sure all the ladies listening are swooning over that.”

Jealousy creeps over me and I use the paper to distract me. I read the questions and decide I want to ask him a question of my own instead. “Why are you so grumpy?”

Ryker seems surprised. “Why are you brave enough to ask me that question?”

I go to answer, then decide against it. “I asked you first.”

His stormy blue eyes narrow at me, but then he does as I asked. “I don’t hate the world, just some of the people in it. Also, when you’re determined like I am to make it big, you need to have a one-track mind. So sure, I can come across as a grumpy asshole because I don’t give anything the time of day besides my craft. Sue me.” He throws his hands up in surrender, then promptly folds them back in front of his chest.

I want to poke the bear, to prod deeper into who exactly he hates and why he’s so determined that baseball is the only thing that matters, but I don’t. “You’re a hard worker and highly motivated. It certainly shows on the field,” I comment, my eyes flicking back to the paper, perusing for one final question.

“Okay, last question.”

“Thank God,” he mutters, his left knee bouncing up and down.

“Who’s inspired you the most in your life?” I ask, genuinely curious.

Ryker unfolds his arms, leaning on his knees with his forearms as he thinks over the question. After a minute of silence, he speaks up, “My mom. She showed me at a young age that you don’t need to quit on your dreams because someone quit on you. It taught me that having your own passion was important. We can’t always rely on another person to fill that piece of ourselves, because when they leave, you’d have nothing.”

I let out a breath, wrapping my head around his answer. “Wow, that’s…deep.”

“It’s the truth,” he retorts, coming to a stand. “Are we done here?”

“Yeah, that was great. Thank you.” I stand as well, noting how he towers over me despite me being five-foot-eleven.

“Anything for you,” he says under his breath, his eyes not leaving mine.

Before I can ask what he means, he turns on his heel and storms out of the room. As soon as he’s gone, I plop back down onto the chair, my mind reeling with all the information I learned today.

Not only did I get to learn some fun facts about him, I also got to see a different side to Ryker. The love for his mom was evident and beyond sweet. And then his answer about the date, how he’d make it about her?

God, I wish more men were like that. Because maybe then, my dream of a fairytale of a life would actually feel like one with a love like that.

Chapter Twelve

Camille

Igroan as I shove my weekender bag over my shoulder, feeling sore from the workout I had last night. I worked out my frustration with the bag, hitting it with all I had until there was nothing left inside of me but a sense of contentment.

Quentin told me that his investigator got news that my parents hired an equally effective detective to find me and that I needed to be careful not to be seen on any social media.

My new job with the team worried me at first, but it’s not like I’ll be seen in the videos, and with editing tools, I can always edit my voice. I don’t have any personal social media, so I should be safe, but there’s still an eeriness that lingers with me now, like I could be watched at any time.

I push the thoughts away, focusing on the big bus outside of the baseball facility that’s taking us to New Mexico today for their first practice game of the season. I hustle out, walking a bit faster toward the bus, knowing I’m almost late. The bus is set to leave at five-thirty, and it’s already five twenty-seven.

I’m not a morning person, so they’re lucky I made it three minutes early. I lift my bag off my shoulder to put it in the under compartment of the bus when a hand grabs it from me.

“I’ve got it,” Ryker’s raspy voice says, hitting me like a breath of fresh air.

The way he looks this good at this time of day is beyond me. His hair is in a low bun, pieces falling around his sharp jaw, his beard neatly trimmed. His Dri-Fit long sleeve displays his chiseled chest and taut biceps while the gray sweats he’s wearing accentuate his muscular thighs and do nothing to hide the massive package he’s carrying down there.

God, why does he need to look like that? Like the most perfect human I’ve ever laid eyes on. Rugged yet put-together in the sexiest way possible.

I avert my eyes and try to pull myself together. “Thanks,” I say, yawning and eyeing him with slight wariness. Ryker keeps saying things that lead me to believe he’s into me, and then he does something that makes me believe otherwise. Like the time when he drove me home from the party and gave me his number, then backtracked by saying to only use it if I needed something regarding my work with the team.

He may as well have thrown a bucket of ice water over me.

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