Page 84 of The Problem with Players

“It’s just what?”

He leaned closer, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. “You like that, huh?”

I glanced at the piece of sausage on my fork. “Clearly, seeing as I’m eating it.” I took another bite.

His chest swelled with pride as his face glowed with a triumphant gleam. “I knew you’d like my sausage.”

I almost choked on the piece of meat in my mouth as those words escaped his mouth. I started coughing, trying my best to clear my throat and swallow the meat all at once.

Nathan picked up my mimosa and held it out to me. “Don’t worry. It’s not uncommon for me to cause women to choke from time to time.”

What a freaking idiot.

An idiot that somehow made me laugh. “Why are you such a moron?”

“I was born this way.” He shrugged, then leaned in closer. “So tell me… How well did I scramble your eggs?”

“Are you just going to sit here and watch me eat while asking inappropriate questions?”

“Yes, actually, that was the plan.”

“Don’t you want food of your own?”

“I ate in the kitchen.”

“What about drinks?”

He lifted one of my mimosas and took a sip. “Thanks, Coach. I wasparched,” he said, mocking me.

I rolled my eyes and took a sip of my own drink. “So what’sthe deal with you? This morning, you woke me up like this baseball game thing was a huge deal.”

“It is a big deal.”

“Rumor has it that you haven’t played a game since you moved back into town.”

“It’s a big deal for everyone else.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Then why did you make it seem like it was such a big deal this morning and as if you wanted to play?”

“Because I did want to play.” He set his Mason jar down and wrapped both his hands around it. “I just wanted to play with you.”

“Don’t do that, Nathan.”

“Do what?”

Make my heart skip a million beats.

I shook my head. “Nothing. Never mind.”

His lips curved up at the corners. “I know I can be a dumbass sometimes, but I’m serious, Avery. Lately, watching you with the guys at practices, you helped me to remember why I love this sport. Today was good for me.”

“Today was good for me, too.”

I looked down at my plate for a moment because sometimes it felt hard to stare into Nathan’s eyes. It felt like staring into my future and past all at once.

“Your mom worries about you,” I mentioned, needing to shift the conversation slightly so I wouldn’t continue to be sitting in a pool of flurries. “Did you know that?”

Now it was Nathan’s turn to uncomfortably shift. “I think that’s what parents do best. Worry.”

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