Page 21 of Home Run Fiancé
I don’t even think, just peck out a reply, my heart beating wildly.
Jake:And beautiful. I see why they’d want to copy you.
As soon as I hit “send” on my reply I cringe. I shouldn’t have said that. It’s the truth, but I doubt she wants to hear that from me. I’m just some old baseball player she agreed to help out of a sticky situation. She’s probably calling Asher right now to complain about my inappropriateness.
My phone rings and I nearly drop it. Speaking of the devil.
“No…” I moan.
I sink down onto the couch and stare at my phone like it’s a snake about to bite me. Asher’s going to kill me. I’m sure of it.
I jab the answer button and put it to my ear.
“Hey, Asher.” Better to bite the bullet and get this conversation over with. I’ll apologize until I’m blue in the face.
“Yo, Jake. Just got off another call with Bobby. He’s really impressed with what he’s seen so far this preseason, but he still mentioned your ‘pension for being in the press.’ His exact words, not mine.”
I let out a silent exhale and lean back against the couch cushion. This isn’t about Rhys. Asher’s call is about what I’m supposed to be focusing on, not playing with fire with literally the only girl who’s off-limits.
“I suggest you propose to Rhys as soon as possible. If we can have that happen, I think it’ll ease his mind. We need him to sign you in the next few weeks or it might not happen this year.”
I sit up straight. “No way, man. It’s gotta be this year. I can’t leave Damon by himself taking care of Mama.”
“Then I suggest you hang up and call Rhys. Make it happen.”
Asher clicks off and I bounce my knee up and down thinking about what to do. I know I should plan to propose tomorrow, but there’s something so weird about faking an engagement. I mean, fake dating is weird too, but I can easily convince myself we’re just getting to know each other and simply posing for a few pictures. Getting engaged is something else entirely.
Jake:Hate to move up the timeline but are you available to be proposed to tomorrow night?
The little dots hang there. I know she’s read my text, but a reply doesn’t come until several minutes later.
Rhys:Sure. Tell me when and where.
Jake:I have an afternoon game tomorrow. How about I pick you up afterward around six? I’ll call a few places and see where I can get reservations.
Rhys:Okay.
Not exactly a ringing endorsement or a jump-for-joy response, but what can I expect when it’s all planned out and totally fake? Talking with Rhys has blown away some of the black cloud that was hanging over my head since our last date, but now I have a lead weight in my stomach. Something’s off. And I think it might be this ridiculous plan to propose. Or maybe the entire fake-relationship idea.
This is what I wanted though, right?
It’s all going according to plan.
* * *
I’m sweating like a sinner in church.
The music’s so loud I have to almost shout for Rhys to hear me.
There’s a party in the back room that’s spilled out into the main restaurant. My guess is there’s an open bar based on the behavior and noise level of the party.
It’s more of a club scene than a restaurant. Unfortunately, it was the only reservation I could get on short notice.
It’s all horribly wrong.
What idiot would propose to his girlfriend under these circumstances? It should be a private affair, with special meaning for the couple. Not a last-minute idea in front of strangers who don’t even know us.
And yet here we are.
