Daphne, thankfully, seemed too focused on the song issue to worry about the awkwardness of that word. “We could give them options,” she said. “That way it would be a vote, no chance for write-ins. Marv could make one of the suggestions if he wants his song choice represented on the ballot. We could even ask your teammates for options—it would be a really fun thing to bring up in interviews. What do you think?”
He still wasn’t sure, but she was smiling at him, looking excited and happy for the first time since…well, at least since before last night. He didn’t have the heart to burst her bubble now.
“Why not,” he said. “I trust you.”
TWENTY-TWO
I trust you. It had been two weeks since Chris had spoken those words, and still they echoed in Daphne’s head. They put a pit in her stomach if she thought about them too hard, but she was determined to earn his trust with this walk-up song idea at least. She’d talked it through with Layla and Greg, and they’d figured out how the voting would work and the various segments they’d film to promote the poll and showcase the result after the All-Star break. She also didn’t know if the two things were connected, but Greg had told her that she’d been cleared to start traveling with the team for their next road trip.
Since first suggesting the walk-up song idea, she’d had minimal interactions with Chris on the project. She’d gotten her car fixed, so there’d been no need for any more rides, and although she’d seen him around the ballpark, she’d gone out of her way to avoid him except for when on camera. For his part, he’d asked her a few polite questions about the car repairs and once about her cat, but he seemed just fine with not talking to her beyond that. She tried not to let it hurt—shewas avoidinghim, after all, so she couldn’t be upset if he was doing the same, any more than she could be upset that he was no longer talking to Duckie after making his position on the whole anonymous thing clear. But that wasthe problem about feelings. You couldn’t just will them away with logic.
There had been way too many close calls that last day when he’d driven her to the ballpark. The more time they spent together in person, the more she questioned what she’d told him as Duckie, what she’d told him as Daphne, what he’d told her, when she’d mess up and say something that would give the whole thing away. So the less they interacted, the better.
She missed it, though. She missed his texts. She missedhim.
It didn’t help that all she’d been doing for this segment wastalkingabout him. Now she was in the clubhouse with the camera crew, sitting down to talk to Randy Caminero about the song he’d choose for Chris.
“What kind of guy is Chris Kepler?” she asked, a question she’d tossed out to all his teammates she’d interviewed so far. The answers had mostly been variants of “quiet,” “thoughtful,” “steady.” They’d talked about his work ethic, how seriously he took the game. He was generally well thought of by the team. She wondered if he knew that.
“Chris!” Randy said now, his eyes lighting up. “That’s my boy, for real. He’s…what can I say about Chris, man. When the benches cleared last week, he was the first one there and the only one who could’ve held me back from a fight. He’s a good friend. Sometimes he comes across as reserved, but he’s kind of an open book, you know?”
She actually wasn’t sure shedidknow. In her experience, Chris seemed to keep large parts of his life to himself. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve just never met anyone who cares more than Chris Kepler. About the game, about other people, you name it, he genuinely cares. Unfortunately, he apparently doesn’t care enough about his dignity to pick his own walk-up song, so I gotta go with—”
They had to cut Randy’s first choice. And second. And third.
“This will air attwelve thirtyon a Sunday afternoon,” Daphne said, laughing so hard she could barely get the words out. “Kids could have a mouthful of peanut butter and jelly, asking, ‘Dad, what does WAP mean?’ ”
“So we’re promoting bonding and communication,” Randy said. “What’s the problem?”
“And sex ed, apparently,” Daphne said, wiping the tears out of her eyes.
Just then, Chris walked in the clubhouse, glancing between the two of them before looking at the camera guy.
“Sorry,” he said. “I can come back.”
“No, no,” she said. “Stay. Randy and I were just talking about—”
She’d been about to sayyour walk-up song, but Randy cut in before she could finish.
“—Sexual pleasure,” he said, giving Daphne a wink. “Hers, in this case.”
“Notminespecifically,” Daphne said, aware of how that sounded. “Just the woman’s in general.”
That didn’t sound much better. She didn’t know how Randy got away with saying such outrageous things, but somehow he did. Even now, she didn’t feel threatened or uncomfortable with his blatant innuendo. There was a friendly vibe to it, like they were just joking around, not that there was anythingactuallysexual about what they were talking about.
The minute Chris had walked in, on the other hand…suddenly the whole topic felt charged. She couldn’t forget the time they’d both come while on the phone together. And she still hadn’t forgotten the way it had sounded when he’d said that word in his car.Pussy.Just thinking about his voice wrapped around those two syllables…well, she’d barely had to use her vibrator for more than a couple minutes.
“We’re almost done here,” she said now, hoping her voice sounded crisp and normal. “I’ve already spoken to several other Batteries players and staff. After that, we’ll get off a quick interview with you and then…”
She noticed both guys were staring at her. Randy seemed like he was trying to hold back a grin but doing a terrible job of it, and finally he stood up, slapping the camera guy on the back. “Let’s leave them to get off that interview,” Randy said, the almost imperceptible pause he put before the last two words still ringing in the room after he and the camera guy left.
“What?” she asked.
Chris’ cheeks were streaked with a noticeable slash of pink.
“Uh, you saidBatteries.” He cleared his throat, his gaze lifting to hers. “Instead ofBattery.”