Page 56 of Wild Pitch
How dare his lips twitch.
“It’s no big deal.” He sets his duffel bag on the sidewalk and stands back up. “Hmm, or maybe it is.”
“Starr, don’t make me maim you,” I say through gritted teeth.
He full-on grins now. “Wow, I don’t think those are words that should come out of an athletic trainer’s mouth.” I raise my fist and he backs one step, chuckling. “Hold your horses, darlin’. This is about the dating stuff.”
“You’re not quitting, are you?”
“No. I just have a different idea.”
I empty my lungs in relief and let my shoulders slouch. It feels nice compared to how tense they were. “Do you, now?”
He folds one arm, his hand holding the crook of his opposite elbow, and with the free hand rubs his chin like he does when he’s pondering. Those all-seeing blue eyes of his grow more serious too.
“Hear me out. I really don’t think the dating app scene is for you.”
Like a child, I kick at an invisible pebble. “I know. I categorically suck at it but what else can I do?”
“You’re not the one who sucks, the weirdoes you’ve dated do.” That stumps me, but if he notices that, he ignores it and continues, “So the whole mess last night gave me an idea. What if I arrange a blind date for you?”
My jaw drops. Eyes bulge. Heart trips.
“W—Whoa—What?”
His eyes trace every one of my physical reactions and a corner of his lips tilts. “What if I found you the perfect date? And also helped you get ready for it?”
“I—I... I don’t know what to say.”
“The answers you’re looking for are either yes or no.” He bends down to pick up his duffel bag and shrugs it on. “Anyway, think about it and let me know. Have a good night, darlin’.” He tips his head, even though he’s not wearing a hat, and walks by me, leaving a waft of clean man that makes me shudder.
I look at the back of his head, at the strong column of his neck, wondering how much force would take to wring it. Honestly, I’m not even this murderous with my brother, but there’s something about Starr that makes me want to… to… do something. I don’t know.
I stomp a few steps back to climb into my Jeep, waiting until he drives off in his black pickup to start my drive home.
*
Unfortunately, I’m not faring any better once I’m home. Even the comfort of clean clothes, our plush couch, and a fluffy blanket haven’t gotten me out of the funky mood.
“What’s your deal?” Rose asks, sitting beside me with a massive bowl of popcorn that I guess is her dinner for tonight.
“I don’t know, I’ve asked her like three times and she hasn’t spilled a word,” says Audrey from the reclining armchair that’s usually hers. She has the uncanny ability of multitasking like no one else I’ve seen, which right now features her reading something on her iPad while minding us two unruly children.
“I was waiting for full quorum to talk,” I admit and unfold my legs from beneath me. “I need advice. Boy advice.”
“Oh.” Rose’s eyes light up. “That’s my favorite subject.”
Meanwhile, Audrey groans. “Can we literally talk about anything else? All we do at work is talk about or to men. A girl is tired.”
“But she needs advice, we can’t be bad friends.” Rose chuckles.
Sighing, I say, “Trust me, I too wish to be thinking about anything else but the male species. The problem is that they’re so. Freaking. Annoying.”
“Drop ‘em truth bombs.”
“You’re not wrong about that.”
After we’ve recovered from our grimaces, I explain, “As we’re all fully aware, my dating endeavors have been truly a disaster. So Starr has come up?—”
