Page 21 of The Road to Home Base
Rome:Well that just made my night. Okay. Time for Call of Duty. I’ll text you in the morning.
Me:Sogni d’oro.
Rome::)
Rome:Sweet dreams to you too.
Sweet dreams never came because I stayed up all night thinking of Rome.
Chapter Six
Alex
THERIDERSWONthe third game, four to one. Despite Rome’s absence at bat, I still found myself swirling with the excitement of the crowd. I earnestly wanted the Riders to win, and not just a wanton desire so I could boast. Joe was there again and continued to help me understand the game better. I got more out of the game this time around and asked fewer questions.
I received a text from Rome not too long after the game ended. I curiously watched the sports network and timed out how long it took them to interview those they needed to (Rome was included) and the gap between the interview and his text. He asked me where I had parked and said he’d meet me by my car and I could follow him back to his place.
I said my goodbye to Joe and hopped into my car. I would’ve waited outside it, but the blacktop from today’s scorching heat radiated the air. There was no way in hell I was standing in the heat like that. A black Mercedes G-Class glided up beside my car, the windows tinted beyond the legal limit, I had no doubt. The black mirror of the driver’s side glass rolled down to reveal a handsome man with damp hair.
I rolled my own window down. “Well, well, if it isn’t NumberSixteen of the New England Riders,” I said as cool and casual as I could.
“And by golly, here is Alex Edwards of Alex Edwards Photography. Just a couple of celebs hangin’ out in the parking lot.” He double-raised his brow and grinned. “Ready to head over?”
“Lead the way.”
Just as I suspected, Rome primarily obeyed the speed limit and took liberty where socially acceptable—the usual forty in a thirty-five, or fifty in a forty-five. We reached the gate to Hiroshi’s estate in just under fifteen minutes. The time on my car clock hit fifteen ’til midnight when I put her in Park behind Rome’s car. We got out at the same time. Rome wore workout shorts, a loose t-shirt, and slides. His hair was damp and in that state of loose curls that I had come to like.
Inside, he kicked off his sandals and I followed suit by toeing off my loafers. He grabbed a couple of bottles of water from the fridge and handed me one. “Hungry?” he asked.
“At midnight?”
He had pulled a leftover container from the fridge. “Last meal of the day. Is it okay if I eat in front of you?”
I pressed a polite smile on my face. He was so courteous. “Of course it is.”
He nodded and fished for utensils out of a drawer. He shot me a few awkward looks as he sat down at the kitchen island, then made quick work of whispering something I didn’t hear and crossing himself.
Very Italian. Very Catholic?I hadn’t pried about that. Yet.
I sat opposite him and took a swig from the water bottle. “All right. Can I say something?”
A forkful of rice was halfway to his mouth when he stopped. “Yes…?”
I blinked. Shook my head slightly. “I don’t even knowwhere to start. Rome.” I leaned into the island and braced my hands against the counter’s edge. “You areamazing.” I licked my lips, then leaned back. His fork still hovered. “Seriously. I am completely enamored with how good you are at this game. You’re justincredible. I don’t know how else to describe it. I see it now. I’ve done some video hunting and article searching. Trying not to be a creeper. But your ability is one in a million.”
He lowered the fork. The corners of his lips grew steadily upward, mouth partially open.
I got off the stool and stood. “I gotta say. The first game the other night? The bottom of the fourth? Holy shit that home run that scoredthree? I mean, come on. I was hooked. Iamhooked. You’re right. You were so right. It was important for me to watch you play and Iget it now.”
A look settled on his face, one I couldn’t quite decipher. The smile had faded to a shy grin, but his brow curled upward, eyes almost misty. Satisfaction?
“Thank you, Alex. That means a lot.”
I sat back down. “Just incredible. You deserve all those awards in your office and so much more.” I slapped the countertop. “And your sportsmanship? Athletes can be such tools. But you? No ego. It’s so refreshing.”
He held up his hand. “Okay, okay. You’re going tomakeme have an ego if you keep feeding me these compliments.”
A challenge? Accepted. I counted off on my hand, “You’re fast.Wickedfast. Strong. Your reflexes are—”
