Page 66 of Vegas Heat

It seemed like a good idea at the time, but now it just feels a little masochistic.

I couldn't bring myself to stay at that restaurant and eat breakfast when everything is hanging in the balance, so I chugged both orange juices, left some cash on the table, and bolted for home. Cooper isn't there, of course, but my dad is.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” he asks, referring to the text message I sent him a few days ago.

I blow out a breath as I wonder whether this is a good time to bring this up or not. I think Cooper just got scared, and we both know this is worth fighting for. But obviously I need to talk to him before I bring it up to anyone else…particularly my dad.

I’m not sure asking about an internship at my dad’s new baseball stadium is the best idea given the fact that it’ll push me into closer proximity to Cooper.

Or maybe that’s exactly what we need.

“I met with my advisor a few weeks ago and she told me I need to start looking for an internship. Do you happen to have anything at the stadium?” I ask. The question is out before I can stop it. In truth, that’s always what I’d planned to ask. But it feels even more important now that I know who one of his star players is going to be.

His brows shoot up. “Really? You're interested in coming to work with me?” He sounds excited at the prospect of having me close at the stadium.

I nod. “I think it would be really neat to learn about the front office responsibilities of a professional baseball team even though I don't know that much about the game. But I am excited to learn, and I’ve learned a good deal about marketing and social media.”

“I can put you in touch with our marketing department since they run the internship program. We will definitely find a spot for you. I'm thinking you might be a great fit as an intern since the program touches on a lot of marketing and social media as you just mentioned, but you'll also get all kinds of experience with all different levels of office staff, the crew, and the clubhouse.”

“Clubhouse?” I ask.

“The locker room,” he clarifies.

“That sounds really interesting,” I say. “When would it start?”

“I'm heading into the stadium later today if you'd like to come with me and get a feel for things to see if you think it would be a good fit. You could start as early as Monday if you want. That would just be paperwork and training, and of course it would be a paid position,” he says.

I force a laugh even though I can't feel much joy knowing where the hell Cooper ran off to. “I don't need to see the stadium today to accept your generous offer, but I'd love to see it anyway.”

It's the first time he's invited me to go with him, but I suppose it's also the first time I've shown an interest in seeing it. It’s currently closed to the public, but the clubhouse and weight room recently opened to players as the team started signing free agents. I think. I hear my dad tossing around words like that but I don’t really know what any of it means. It’s a brand-new, state of the art facility, and as soon as it’s ready for the public, the crowds will swarm to check out Vegas’s newest attraction.

“Great. I’m just waiting for Coop to get back from his meeting, and then we can go,” he says.

“Cooper’s going?” I ask, and I know my voice sounds hopeful, but dammit, I need to see him. I need to talk to him.

He nods. “Yes. He texted me a little while ago and said he’d be back in an hour or so.”

I can’t help but wonder where the hell he went and why he’s going to be gone another hour, but I don’t ask questions. I’ll save them for the man himself.

“I’ll be ready,” I say, and then I head upstairs to take care of some work I was assigned yesterday.

Except I can’t focus on a damn thing, so I call up Mia.

“Hey girl hey,” she answers. “How’s it going?”

I can’t help it. I burst into tears.

“Whoa, Gabs. What’s going on?”

“Cooper’s going to be playing for my dad’s new team and I don’t know how I could have been so stupid to not piece that together but he told me this morning he can’t be with me,” I ramble and sob at the same time.

“Oh, Jesus. I knew he was too old for you, girl. Older guys, they just don’t give a fuck. They do whatever serves them. Hell…allmen do that,” she says, and I know she’s trying to make me feel better, but I still jump to his defense. I’m not surewhyI do that after he walked out on me at breakfast, but it’s my gut reaction.

“He’s not like that, Mia. We just need to talk, I think, but he left and I don’t know where he is,” I say.

“Have you tried calling him?”

“No,” I admit. “We met for breakfast but he told me he couldn’t do this and walked out before we even ordered, and I figured I should give him space.”

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