Page 17 of Home Field Advantage
With a lopsided grin, I avert my gaze to my hands on the counter, adjusting my baseball cap to ensure I stay as hidden as possible.
“Guess I should introduce myself then, huh?” He extends his hand across the table. “I’m Griffin.”
“Dallas,” I say, returning his handshake.
“Oh my god,” another bartender says. I glance up and see his hand covering his face.
“Don’t say it,” I warn, feeling uneasy at the sudden attention. I’m used to being recognized, but don’t want to feel it here.
Griffin looks at us, very confused. “What am I missing?”
The guy leans in, staring at me, but whispers behind his hand. Not quietly, either. “That’s the head coach for the San Francisco Stags Major League Baseball team.”
“Was,” I cut in, keeping my voice low. “Wasthe coach.”
Clark kept things pretty tight-lipped when it came to the media. There was no official announcement of me leaving and someone replacing me for the off season. He wanted to leave it in case I decided to come back and keep my position. I don’t know why I just told him Iwasthe coach. I think it was the wrong thing to say, because I still am. However, I’m not coaching right now.
“Nooo.” The guy winces.
“Since when are you a baseball fan?” Griffin asks him.
“I root for the underdogs.” He shrugs. “And the Stags were…” He pauses before leaning in to whisper to the man again. “They suck.”
There’s a ping in my chest because everything falls back on me. Do they suck because of how I’ve coached them the last four years? Probably.
I nod in response to that, not knowing what else to say.
“So what brings you to Bluestone Lakes?” Griffin asks.
“Your website is very welcoming.”
The one off to the side barks out a laugh, and Griffin laughs under his breath.
“Ah, Dallas,” Nan says before I can respond to anyone, swinging an arm around my shoulder. “You found the best bar in town. Have you settled in nicely?”
“Dallas?” the woman beside her practically shouts, and I cringe at how loud she’s saying my name. “You’re…you’re the head coach for the Staghorns. I’m from San Francisco, too. What brings you all the way out here?”
“Hell if I know,” I answer, not wanting to explain it to these people who clearly know who I am. I knew this was a bad idea. Within minutes of being here, I’ve been recognized twice. And what the hell are the chances of someone from San Francisco being here, too?
I think deep down, I just didn’t want anyone here to know who I am.
I wanted time with my daughter without people finding out who I am. It would only bring attention to the media if word got out outside of Bluestone Lakes.
I’m about to shrug out of Nan’s hold on my shoulders and find a way to leave discreetly when a glass of amber liquid slides in front of me. “On the house.”
I offer a quick nod. “Thank you.”
“You got it,” Griffin says. “And hey, for what it’s worth… Welcome to Bluestone Lakes.”
Nan glances down at me, giving my shoulder a light squeeze. “You’re gonna like it here,” she whispers before I watch her leave to tend to the karaoke machine.
“So, you do this every weekend?” I ask Griffin.
He shakes his head. “Usually it’s during the week, but it’s my sister’s birthday and shebeggedme to have it tonight, too.”
“Is this your bar?”
He nods. “I also would like to put it out there that I don’t know a single thing about baseball. No offense.”
