Page 66 of Wild Pitch
But… “We’re basically coworkers,” I say and when it still doesn’t seem to click with him, I add, “Dating coworkers is a historically bad idea for women, and I’d really like to keep my job. I have big student loans to pay off.”
“Ah.” He runs his hand through his hair, not messing it one bit. “So you refuse to date anyone in the Wild organization?”
“Yeah.” I make a grab for my glass but it’s empty. Before I can react, he reaches forward to refill it.
“So just to clarify, even if it’s not me, you also won’t date anyone else in the team?”
“Right.”
“Hmm.” He leans back on his chair and takes a moment to study me while I wash the rest of my nerves down with water.Finally, he asks, “Would you like to continue with the date anyway? I’d love to treat you.”
I lift my chin. “Yes, please. I would love free fancy food.” And my stomach roars in affirmation.
*
Logan and I walk out of the restaurant together, laughing easily about some prank the third baseman played on Lucky Rivera a few days ago in the locker room.
“I swear, I’ve never seen Rivera squeal so much,” Logan says, shoulders still shaking with mirth.
“Oh my word, I’d have paid to see that.” I wipe a tear off my eye. Unfortunately, that makes my eye sting somehow. “Ouch!” I stop walking and squeeze my eyes tight, but that makes it worse.
The amusement fades from Logan’s voice. “What happened?”
“I think an eyelash went into my eye.”
“Let me see.”
I stand still and struggle to open my eyes. Two warm hands hold my head firmly and Logan looms closer than ever before. He searches my eyes—er, the one eye—intently, and in a parallel universe I’d wonder if he was going to kiss me.
Instead, he says, “Found it. It’s actually not in all the way so I think I can get it. Can you keep your eye open?”
“I’ll try.” I grit my teeth and force myself not to move a millimeter as he leans much closer. One of his hands releases my head, the other one sliding to the back, through my hair to hold me in place. Carefully, his fingers grow impossibly large as they approach my eye and suddenly—sweet relief. “Oh, thank you.”
He steps back and lifts the evil eyelash resting on the pad of his index finger to me. “Blow it for good luck.”
I do and rub my eye. A second too late I remember the makeup.
“Oh, shit,” I say in a truly unladylike way. “Did I just smear my makeup all over?”
“Nah, you’re still pristine.”
Not that it matters, but I still sigh in relief. “Okay, good.”
He takes another step back and puts a hand in the pocket of his dress pants. “So, should I take you home or is someone else driving you?”
We both know who the someone else is. I glance over my shoulder, but Cade Starr doesn’t jump out of the restaurant, ready to be my chauffeur again. Maybe he’s not even here anymore, knowing that I’d be in great hands this time around.
“Actually, I didn’t arrange a ride back. Can you please just drive me to where my car is parked?”
“Sure thing. After you.” He motions in the general direction to his left and I fall in step.
I’ve never really paid attention to what he drives, but he stops by a fancy ass car I recognize as a Maserati, though I couldn’t begin to guess which model or price tag. I don’t know why it surprises me because Logan Kim is a flashy kind of guy, but it’s like I half expected him to drive another pickup.
The car is so annoyingly low and my dress so tight, that I end up having to accept his help to slide into the seat, butt first, and then turn to tuck my legs in. Logan closes the door like an old school gentleman and the passenger seat absorbs me while he makes his way to the driver’s seat.
“Whoa, dude. This is way fancy,” I say once he climbs in.
He flashes a quick grin in the night. “Right? Makes me feel like I’ve finally made it.”
