Page 65 of Wild Pitch
Meanwhile, Kim gets up to pull out a chair meant for me. When it’s clear that I’m incapable of any coherent thought, he motions at the chair with his head, his thick black hair coming loose from the hold behind his ear and falling to half obscure his face.
“Oh. Um.” I scramble to take a seat and he pushes me gently toward the table.
I cast a confused expression at the hostess, but rather than offer any explanations she just takes her leave.
Kim retraces his steps, one hand sliding down his stomach to hold his tie in place as he sits back down. He hasn’t even settled down when I blurt out, “What’s happening?”
“I’m your date,” he responds with his deep, smooth voice, dark eyes twinkling under the low light.
My hands are clutching at my little purse so tight that they tremble. I try to swallow but my mouth is dry as a desert. ¿Qué carajo me pasa? Why is my stomach in knots?
Water. That’s all I need. I force my hands to relax and reach for the pitcher and my fancy little glass. Kim leans back, a tiny smile on his face as he watches me drain my glass like it’s alcohol and I’m trying to get smashed as quickly as possible.
Ha, maybe I should order a stiffer little beverage.
“Wow, I’m speechless,” I say, which kind of defeats the concept of being speechless, except there’s nothing else that comes to mind. I can’t even comprehend all that I’m feeling myself.
“How come? Were you expecting someone else?”
Yes.
No. I shouldn’t have.
But I was.
“Um.” I tuck my hair behind my ears again and mumble, “I was just expecting a complete stranger.” That’s not entirely a lie. It really was what I thought up until this afternoon.
“Is this better or worse?”
“To be honest, I’m not sure,” I admit, which elicits a chuckle out of him. It has the curious effect of relaxing my muscles, and I finally settle into the chair. “We already know each other, and for example I know you’d never treat me like crap.”
“Props to me.” Kim grins.
“But on the other hand, you’ve also already seen me acting like a headless chicken, so I can’t imagine you’re sitting here with any real interest in me.”
His thick eyebrows rise. “Who says that?”
I blow a raspberry. “Please, I’ve seen the women you’ve dated.”
“C’mon, only one was a supermodel.”
“Kim.” I give him a look trying to go for stern, but I actually want to laugh.
“Call me Logan.” He shrugs. “We’re on a date after all.”
“Logan.” His name rolls off my tongue easily, even though it’s the first time I use it. I spread my hands on the table. “Can we be fully honest here?”
“Always.”
I appreciate the earnestness of his answer and it makes me smile. “We both know there is nothing that will come out of this date.”
“Ouch.” He places both paws over his heart. “This is the fastest I’ve ever been rejected.”
“It’s not that I’m rejecting you. If circumstances were different I’d be going wild over you.”
Humming from his throat, he leans closer, elbows on the table. “What circumstances?”
Of course he has a big ego. I know that. The entire team and staff know that. Fans know that. Logan has exceptionally amazing genes because he comes from one of the most famous baseball families. His dad is none other than Jeong Guk Kim, the first South Korean to be inducted into the American baseball hall of fame. His brother is Lewis Kim, an All-Star pitcher who breaks records every season. And his mother is Freya Backstrom, a Swedish supermodel famous for her ethereal beauty. Logan has as much beauty as he has skill, and is brimming with sex appeal. I literally don’t know a single woman who is immune to him. Some men too.
