Page 19 of Caught Stealing

“More difficult in person? Yeah. It’s harder to flirt with you while you’re a living, breathing person beside me.”

“But,” I draw out, “that means you want to flirt with me?”

I’m rewarded with yet another of her glorious smiles, sparkling eyes and all. Her cheeks pink, but to her credit, she maintains eye contact. “Maybe. Will you have time for another date tomorrow?” she asks, head tilted in question.

I tug her a little closer and she lets me. “Will you have time for another date tomorrow?”

“I could be persuaded,” she says with a slight shrug. “I have some free time after church.”

“How about I make us a dinner reservation on the riverboat? Then maybe next weekend we can get together with the dogs?”

“Hmm, we really are planning two dates ahead aren’t we?” The way her eyes widen is a surefire sign she’s digging to discover what I really think of her. She’s not quite sure where this might lead, and to tell the truth, neither am I but I’m more than willing to find out.

A wide grin tugs at the corners of my lips and I can’t help myself. I have to flirt back with her, really lay it out there so she does not mistake that what I said on my profile is true—I’m looking for something long term. I lean in close and she stiffens, but not in an I’m afraid of what he might do sort of way. I gather this when I start to pull back and she squeezes my hand, holding me close.

“I have no less than a dozen dates planned with you, Lottie,” I whisper in her ear, toying with those loose pieces of hair that dance over her cheeks.

She lifts her face ever so slightly and her breath tickles over my cheek. “You sure your work will allow you enough time for me?”

I run my hand up her back, tugging her still closer. Her pulse races, thrumming in her neck. “I’ll make time. I’ve enjoyed every second of you.”

She giggles softly and settles her hand on my chest. “I’m glad. I’ve enjoyed this time with you, too. You’re making me hate my friends a lot less.”

I laugh but don’t pull back. She rests her head on my shoulder. I try not to wince as we glide into another slow dance. “You never told me why you’re not taken yet.” I look down at her, but only succeed in settling my chin on the crown of her head. “Are you a closet serial killer?”

“Nope, not a serial killer as far as I know. I’ve been known to put away a pint of ice cream like it’s a felony charge, but other than that, not a killer.”

“I can’t figure out why anyone hasn’t put a ring on your finger then. What are you hiding, Lottie Clarke?” It’s meant to be a joke but it either falls wrong or she took it seriously.

She scoffs and pulls back a little. “My last boyfriend was a cheating jerk. I thought he was going to propose, but he ran off with his team’s social media rep instead. And that’s why I don’t date athletes anymore. Never again.”

Gut. Punch. No, not even that. It’s a full-on knock out from out of left field.

And that is her fatal flaw.

It’s not even a flaw. It’s her preference based on personal information gathered from experience, but it has put a nail in my coffin. We just met. There is zero possibility she will want to give me a chance to prove not all athletes are unfaithful. But I can’t lie to her. And I don't want to.

I open my mouth to finally admit the truth, but the music starts again and she twirls away from me. She giggles and before I know it, we’re dancing again. I can’t believe how fast this went from protecting my identity to get to know her better, to crashing and burning because I’m an athlete. Talk about a one-eighty.

Time passes, too much to just throw out that I’m a pro baseball player, so I decide I’ll tell her on the walk back to her car. Right now, I want to enjoy this dance with her. Give her a good memory before breaking the truth. Besides, I want to deliver this in a way that might make her consider me differently. It’s a shot in the dark, but I have to try. My heart sinks deeper and deeper into a pit of despair.

“So, what do you want to do after our riverboat dinner tomorrow night?” Lottie is light and happy. How am I supposed to burst her bubble and tell her that I’m the one thing she doesn’t want? The kind of person she’s written off thanks to a piece of junk ex-boyfriend who I can only surmise is an absolute moron. I’m one date in with this woman and cannot imagine why he would up and leave her for someone else.

“Um, what do you want to do?” Why did I say that? I should be saying hold your horses, I’m a pitcher for the Sharks, but I’d be grateful for one chance to prove to you we’re not all lying scum.

“I haven’t been to see a movie in forever. Want to go?” She links her fingers with mine again, offering me affection I do not deserve right now. That pit grows deeper and darker. Tell her now. Tell her now, you idiot.

“I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

We wander down the street back toward the parking lot, and all the time she keeps me in conversation about things like family, friends, and our likes and dislikes. And I'm emotionally numb. My mind is a hurricane, whirling with confusion. Frustration. Disappointment. And I'm angry because I cannot imagine a world in which a man would ever cheat on her. I haven’t seen a single thing about her that isn’t right for me…except that one thing.

And I have to tell her.

I have to. Right now.

I clear my throat and prepare to deliver the bomb. “Lottie, I need to—”

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