Page 23 of Home Field Advantage
“Wow. You have all the right things to say, huh?”
“So, it’s working?”
“Depends on what you’re trying to do?”
He doesn’t immediately answer but lifts his glass of bourbon to his lips. Locking eyes with me as he takes a long sip. My cheeks ache from smiling so hard.
Is he trying to…take me home?
My stomach flips with that thought because I’ve never gone home with a man before.
I mean, I’ve never even had sex before or done…anything really.
Okay, well, I kissed some guys back in college after that one short relationship that built the walls I put up around my heart, and started my fear of going further with anyone. I didn’t think I was good enough for anyone. Constantly felt like I was doing something wrong. Even kissing, was I even doing it right? I’ll never know because I stopped, so the doubts didn’t consume me and ruin my life.
“I’m trying to keep that smile on your face,” Dallas finally answers.
Is there a tally for how many times my cheeks can turn a shade of pink or red tonight? Because I can’t remember the last time I ever smiled this hard outside of the classroom, playing games with six- and seven-year-olds.
“So, since I’ve just made it my goal to keep you smiling”—he grins at me—“tell me what kind of things make you happy. Where is your happy place?”
The question catches me off guard because no one has ever asked me that before.
I’m not about to tell him that organizing my spice cabinet in alphabetical order, or perfect vacuum lines in the carpet, make me happy. He’s going to bolt out of this bar quicker than an Olympic track star. So I settle on surface level. The truth of the things thatdomake me happy.
“It’s the little things that make me happiest. I like calm mornings doing yoga on my back deck, and quiet nights with a puzzle.”
He nods. “I like that.”
“My happy place is definitely Bluestone Lakes.”
“Come on, Poppy. Give me something more than your hometown.”
I laugh. “I mean the lakes themselves. The ones you passedon your drive into town. They span miles and miles, as far as the eye can see. Sometimes I like to go there and feel the peace and quiet of the lake.”
He stares at me for a moment, with wonder in his eyes. “I’ll have to make a point to head out there one day.”
“You should.” I nod. “How about you? What makes you happy?”
“Baseball.” He holds up a hand, a playful grin on his lips. “Before you ask, yes, it’s my only real hobby. It’s all I’ve ever known.”
“I wasn’t going to ask,” I say, holding my hands up and laughing. “Is that why you coach? Or did coach? I’m not sure from your previous answer.”
He sighs. “I was the head coach for a major league baseball team.”
I can tell by how he says it that it’s a sore subject. I see how his smile stays on his face, but it’s no longer wide and bright.
There’s a dull ache behind it.
“That sounds like kind of a big deal.”
He shrugs.
“And you used the past tense. So are you no longer coaching?”
He averts his gaze to the bottles lined up behind the bar and shakes his head.
“I’m sorry. That was probably a sore subject. I didn’t mean to bring it up.”
