Page 8 of Catching Her Heart
"Benchwarmer. I was an excellent benchwarmer."
Ted laughs so hard he nearly spills his own drink. "There's an art to good benchwarming."
"Absolutely. You have to maintain team morale, provide enthusiastic cheering, and most importantly, never drop the water bottles when you're passing them out."
"Did you drop the water bottles?"
"Frequently."
Mrs. Adams appears with a towel and a fresh mug of coffee, tsking sympathetically. She looks at Ted with a knowing smile. "This one's nervous."
"I’m not!" I protest, my cheeks burning.
"Don't mind her," Ted says, but his eyes are twinkling. "She's been trying to set me up with her niece for months. She's probably jealous."
As we settle back into our seats with my fresh coffee safely positioned far from my gesticulating hands, the conversation flows easier than it has any right to. Ted tells me about growing up as the baby of the family, always trying to keep up with his older siblings.
"I was the kid who practiced catching pop flies until dark because I was convinced that if I got good enough, my brothers would have to include me in their games."
"Did it work?"
"Eventually. Though by the time I was good enough to hang with them, they'd moved on to girls and cars." He grins. "Typical little brother story."
"I'm an only child," I admit. "I always wondered what it would be like to have siblings."
"It's loud. Competitive. Someone's always borrowing your stuff without asking." His expression softens. "But also you always have people in your corner. Even when they're driving you crazy, they're your people."
"Like tonight. With your family assuming we're dating and planning our entire future."
"Yeah, about that..." Ted brushes his hair back nervously. "I should probably warn you that they're going to keep doing that. Once they get an idea in their heads, they're like dogs with bones."
"So you're saying I should expect more wedding planning advice from Bridget?"
"Oh, definitely. She'll probably start asking about your dress preferences by next week."
We both laugh, but there's something underneath it—an acknowledgment that there will be a next week, that whatever this is between us isn't ending tonight.
"Can I ask you something?" Ted says, leaning forward slightly.
"Sure."
"Why did you stay tonight? After my family left, you could have politely escaped. Made some excuse about deadlines or early mornings. Why didn't you?"
It's a fair question, and I find myself considering it seriously. Why did I stay? Professional curiosity? The story I'm supposed to be chasing?
"Honestly?" I meet his eyes. "Because for the first time since I got to Austin, I didn't want to be anywhere else."
Ted's smile starts slow and spreads across his entire face. "Good answer."
"What about you? Why did you ask me to coffee?"
"Because," he says, reaching across the table to touch my hand briefly, "when you look at me, I feel like the most interesting person in the room. And I've never felt that way before."
The touch of his fingers against mine sends warmth shooting up my arm. I don't pull away.
"Ted—"
"I know this is complicated," he says quickly. "Our jobs, the whole reporter-athlete thing. But I'd like to see where this goes. If you want to."
