Page 63 of Vegas Heat

He told me the buddy who invited him here to play owns a sex club.

Is hisbuddymyfather?

Is that where dear old Dad is always running off to?

I think I’m going to be sick.

I grab my keys and purse before I head out to the truck my very rich father purchased me for my birthday, where I draw in a deep breath and take a moment to regroup. This all seemed so easy yesterday, so natural, and now…it’s not.

I arrive at the restaurant first, and I ask for a private table in the back. I face the door so I can watch for him to walk in and so he as thecelebrityhere can face the wall, my heart thundering in my chest as I wait.

I chug down an entire glass of water in about six seconds flat.

It feels like a lifetime passes before he finally walks in. He glances around the room, and when his eyes land on mine, they don’t warm over like they have in the past.

I can’t quite read what’s there, but it’s hard to tell anyway with the bill of his black baseball hat pulled down low over his eyes.

Nerves rattle me, but this is Cooper. This isus. Whatever happens, we’ll make it through. What we’ve built in a short amount of time is solid.

Or maybe that’s just my naivety showing again.

He slides into the booth across from me, his eyes down on the table.

“Hi,” I begin tentatively.

His eyes finally flick up to mine, and his are positively tormented. “Hey.”

“So, uh…you play baseball?”

He offers a sad, wry smile. “So, uh…you’re the daughter of Troy Bodine?”

I nod. “Just found out a few years ago.”

He presses his lips together. “I played in the majors for the Dodgers for seven years and retired early after an injury.” He holds up his elbow. “Surgery pieced me back together, and then Troy—uh, your father…” he trails off and clears his throat. “He called me with an offer to come back to the game, to be the face of the new Vegas Heat expansion team.” He blows out a breath.

“I knew you played for the Dodgers. My friends looked you up the night we hooked up, but I figured you’d tell me when you were ready,” I say.

His brows draw together. “You didn’t think it was important to tell me who your father was knowing I used to play?”

“I had no idea you knew him,” I say, defensiveness jumping into my tone even though I have nothing to be defensive over. “I don’t like telling people who my dad is, particularly people who might benefit from that knowledge.” My words feel like heavy weights leaving my mouth.

He glances away from me and out the window. “I get it. I really liked how I could just be Cooper, the guy who works for a kids’ fitness organization, around you. I liked not being Cooper Noah, All-Star MVP. I liked that we built something based on the me deep down rather than the me everyone sees in the media.”

Tears continue to burn behind my eyes as he uses past tense in his speech.

“We both had our reasons for keeping things close to the vest, I guess,” I say softly.

“Can I get y’all something to drink?” a perky waitress asks as she appears at our table.

“Coffee and orange juice, please,” I say, forcing a smile for her benefit.

“Same,” Cooper says, not looking up from the spot where he’s staring at the table.

“Do y’all need more time to decide what you want to eat?” she asks.

I glance at him, and he doesn’t look up or reply. “Sure, that’d be great,” I tell her. I stare at the bill of his hat, my eyes memorizing the UA on it as I wonder whether I’ll ever get to see it in an intimate setting again or if this is all going to disappear as quickly as it began.

I don’t know what to say.

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