Page 109 of Wild Pitch
Kim tightens his jaw so tight that we all see a muscle jump. “Right.” I’m shocked he doesn’t deny it.
“Guess we’ll catch up to you, then.” Rose looks at Cade first, then at me.
And that’s when it clicks.
Did—Did the four of them just set us up?
Untucking his tongue from against his cheek, Cade looks at me and says, “Shall we?”
“Uh, sí. Sure. Let’s.”
I duck from everybody’s sight because their attention is what’s making my tongue tie up. At least they have the decency not to laugh at me as Cade and I walk away together.
Together, I say, even though we’re like six feet apart.
Our steps echo in the quiet of the parking lot as I follow Cade to his black pickup truck. He unlocks it and I jump into the passenger seat in a flash, and Cade pauses outside, watching me with eyes narrowed in thought.
Confused, I wait until he also climbs in to ask, “What was that?”
He hums from his throat as he buckles up and turns on the truck. “I was just wondering if you like to open and close car doors yourself or for the guy to do it.”
My heart rises and threatens to kick my brain off its socket, but brain prevails. “Oh, is this a date coaching moment?” I stroke my chin in thought like I see him do often. “I’m usually much faster than them and get to the door first.”
“Does that mean if I get to the door faster you won’t get upset if I open it for you?”
We stare at each other for a moment long enough that the automatic lights go off. His eyes almost glow from the reflection of the streetlights and my mind, ever so, helpful reminds me of his body pressed up against mine earlier.
I look away. “Actually, I’d probably get mad. I’m an independent woman capable of handling a car door. I guess that’s what makes me undatable.”
“You’re not undatable,” he whispers just over the twangs of an old school country song playing in the background. His right hand caresses the steering wheel as he turns the truck into traffic. “The assholes who didn’t value you are the undatable ones.”
I have to sit on my hands to not reach for him and—what?
Kiss him? As if.
Ugh, but I want to. I really do. I just don’t know how. I guess I could straight up ask him if he’d be willing to switch roles from dating coach to date, but I don’t trust myself to not act like an absolute twerp if he says yesorno.
I need a clue that he may be open to that idea, but he’s like a freaking vault. In fact, we drive the rest of the way back to the ballpark with only the music to fill the silence. Not hearing his voice, even if it’s to tease me and annoy me, makes meincreasingly more nervous. Somehow I’m much more aware of him when he’s quiet, like the need to know what he’s thinking—about me, let’s be honest—grows hungrier in his silence.
I break when we’re two blocks away from the facilities. “So… Are you doing okay after the whole mess yesterday?”
Wow, way to ease into a casual conversation.
He does the chin stroke thing. “I suppose so, but I’m kinda dreading going home now.”
I jerk. “Because you don’t want to be alone now?”
“Well.” He flashes a glance at me before focusing on the road again. “I recognized one of them, she’s followed me around my neighborhood before.”
I suck in all the air in the cabin. “Wait, Cade. You had a stalker and you didn’t tell anyone?”
“Lou knows now—my agent.”
“Cade…”
“I just don’t want to make a big deal about this.”
I bite my lip. I can imagine how anyone in his situation would want to pretend like nothing’s wrong, hoping that makes it all go away. But that’s not usually how it happens, and yet I can’t badger him about this and make him even more uncomfortable than he already is. Especially not when the minds of baseball pitchers are famous for being delicate.
