Page 17 of Home Run Fiancé
I turn to the guy, a practiced easy smile on my face. “Hey, man, how’s it going?”
He steps closer, an eager look on his face. “Itisyou. Dude, I’m such a huge fan. Do you mind if we get a picture with you?” He waves his hand at the guy next to him, both of them staring at me wide-eyed like fans always do.
I nod and get between them both, a smile ready to go. They take a couple selfies and I thank them for watching my games. Rhys stands off to the side through the whole thing, looking like she’d gladly melt into the background. I snag her hand, lacing my fingers with hers, and hustle us back down the pier to her car.
“What do you say we skip ahead to dinner?”
She shivers and nods, looking much less enthusiastic than when we started our fun at the pier.
“Are you cold?”
She tilts her head. “Yeah, just a bit. Probably a good time to get changed and head to dinner.”
I wrap my arm around her, pulling her in tight. She goes stiff as a board, but then relaxes into me, maybe remembering she’s supposed to be acting like my infatuated girlfriend. My fingers trail over the temporary tattoos on her arm. They’re metallic, made to look like she has cuffs on her tan biceps. I steer us around the people darting left and right, careful to make sure they don’t hit her. The tattoos look great on her, but I can’t help but wonder if she has more.
“You got any real tattoos?”
She slides her eyes to me, like she’s not sure what to make of my question. I guess I just figure if we’re going to be spending all this time together, we might as well get to know each other. As friends only, of course. She is my best friend’s little sister after all.
“No. Just some piercings. Maybe one day I’ll get a tattoo, but it’s permanent, you know? I have to make sure it’s what I really want.”
I nod. “That’s smart. I got the Major League Baseball logo when I first signed with the Dangers. Young and stupid. I wouldn’t say I regret it, but thankfully I got it in a discreet place. If I’d gotten it elsewhere, maybe I would have regretted it.”
“Discreet, huh?” Rhys side-eyes me, that devilish light in her eyes again.
We get to her car and I open the trunk with her keys, having confiscated them from her earlier. My skin is humming with energy. Being around Rhys is proving addictive.
“Are you flirting with me, Ms. Close?” I pretend to be dismayed, simply to cover I’m beginning to love how she teases me. Other than my teammates and my mama, everyone in my life tells me what I want to hear, too afraid of my intense focus to tease.
She pulls away from me and grabs clothes out of her bag. “I would never do that, don’t worry.” Faster than I can respond, she jumps onto the curb and runs to the bathrooms to change.
I shake my head, still wishing for that Lasso of Truth. “More’s the pity…” I mutter and grab my own change of clothes.
* * *
I swear this woman gets prettier every time I see her and it’s getting harder to distract myself with the lie that I don’t notice. She nearly gave me a heart attack when she stripped off her shirt and shorts at the beach. She wasn’t like a lot of women who went to the beach, but didn’t actually want to be in a swimsuit. She’d run around in a bikini, completely at ease in her own skin and I found that confidence attractive. Probably helped that she was flat-out stunning, so who wouldn’t want to show that off?
Then she comes out of the grungy public bathrooms in a plain white sundress with a whole back of straps I want to trace with my finger just to see how soft her skin is. The long skirt dances around her ankles, the material see-through at times when she walks a certain way and the last rays of sun flow through. She’s holding a sweater that I hope she doesn’t put on. She smiles when she sees me leaning against the side of her car, but it’s a guarded smile. A polite expression without any warmth behind it.
I hate that smile.
When she gets close to me, I see her eyes shift behind me to her car, that expression morphing into genuine laughter. Thank goodness. I set her penguin behind the wheel hoping she’d get a kick out of it. Because he’s so big, he actually looks like he’s driving. I even got one flipper to stay up on the top of the steering wheel.
“Looks like we’re going to be chauffeured home tonight after dinner.” She stands right in front of me, her gaze coming back to me, much warmer than before.
Smiling, I take her clothes, the strings of her bikini dangling down from the pile, and deposit them into the trunk. Slamming it shut, I take her hand and we walk to a popular Mexican restaurant right next to the pier. People are everywhere, out enjoying a balmy beach night in Southern California. If I’m not still playing a baseball game, I’m usually at home by this time of day, preparing for another day of hard work. It feels nice to be out and about with Rhys. Almost freeing, which is weird because I never felt constricted before.
My phone starts vibrating in the back pocket of my jeans and I whip it out while we wait to be seated. I grow weary as I see a ton of notifications lighting up my phone. I open Instagram and see someone has posted a low-resolution picture of Rhys and me kissing at the pier.
“Um…”
“Right this way, please.” The hostess takes us to our table by the window. The view is beautiful, with the sun just sinking down below the surface of the ocean. Normally, I’d enjoy it, but I’m nervous about Rhys’ reaction to the picture. And Asher’s. We’re only supposed to be kissing for the paparazzi, not when the mood strikes us on our fake dates.
As soon as we’re both seated, I slide my phone over to Rhys.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” I hold my breath as she enlarges the picture and reads the caption and comments.
She slides the phone back to me, surprisingly calm.
