Page 6 of Catching Her Heart
"Piper, dear," Kathleen presses another sandwich into my hands despite my protests, "you take care of our boy. He needs someone to make sure he eats properly."
"Mrs. Brennan, I really should explain?—"
"Oh, you can just call me Mom!" she says, kissing my cheek before I can dodge.
Within minutes, they've whirl winded their way out of the section, leaving behind a trail of enthusiastic advice and the faint scent of Nana's perfume. I sit in the suddenly quiet stands, clutching a corned beef sandwich and staring at Ted, who looks like he might spontaneously combust from embarrassment.
"I’m so sorry," he says, sinking into the seat beside me. "They're a lot to handle."
"They're sweet," I say, and I mean it. "Overwhelming, but sweet."
"They've decided you're my girlfriend based on one conversation yesterday. I tried to explain that you're a reporter, but they're convinced I'm being modest."
"Why didn't you just tell them the truth? That I mistook you for the equipment manager and made a complete fool of myself?"
Ted's smile is soft. "Because then they'd feel bad for embarrassing you. And because..." He hesitates, then reaches into his equipment bag and pulls out a baseball. "I thought you might actually want this. For research purposes."
He holds it out to me, and when I reach to take it, our fingers brush. The contact sends a little shock through my hand, warm and electric. Ted's eyes meet mine, and for a moment, neither of us moves.
"Ted Brennan, game ball, May 15th," he says quietly, not pulling his hand away. "From tonight's win."
"You kept the game ball?" My voice comes out softer than intended.
"I kept a game ball. There’s always more than one. This one's for you."
I look down at the baseball in my hands, at Ted's careful signature written in blue ink across the white leather. It's such a simple gift, but somehow it feels significant. Like he's giving me something real and tangible from his world.
"Thank you," I say. "I'll treasure it. For research."
"For research," he agrees, but his smile suggests we both know it's more than that.
We sit in comfortable silence for a moment, the stadium lights casting long shadows across the empty field. I should leave. I should thank him politely and go home to write up my notes for tomorrow's story. Instead, I find myself asking, "Do you always give game balls to reporters?"
"Never," Ted says immediately. "You're the first."
Something flutters in my chest again, stronger this time. "Why?"
"Because you asked good questions yesterday. Because you looked like you actually wanted to understand the game, not just get a quote for your story. And because..." He trails off, then starts again. "Would you like to get coffee? To discuss your observations from tonight?"
I glance down at my notebook, which contains exactly three legitimate observations and about fifteen doodles of Ted's number. This is a terrible idea. I'm supposed to be maintaining professional boundaries, not getting coffee with sources.
"I'd like that," I hear myself say.
Ted's face lights up. "Really?"
"Really. But I should warn you—I barely took any notes tonight. Your family is very distracting."
"Just my family?" There's something hopeful in his voice.
I look at him—really look at him. At the way his green eyes crinkle when he smiles, at the quiet confidence in his posture, at the way he's looking at me like I'm the most interesting person in the stadium.
"No," I admit. "Not just your family."
CHAPTER FOUR
The coffee shopTed chooses is nothing like I expected. Instead of some generic chain near the stadium, he leads me to Hill Country Coffee tucked between a bookstore and a vintage clothing shop. Fairy lights twinkle in the windows, and the smell of cinnamon and freshly ground beans hits me the moment we walk in.
"This is lovely," I say, looking around at the mismatched furniture and local art covering the walls.
