Page 4 of Hard Ball

“That’s what you got from that? You think I’m a cleat chaser?”

Confusion crosses his features as he leans his elbow against the bar and rests his chin in the palm of his hand.

“So, you’re not?” Just when I think I found a good one, he ends up just as egotistical as the rest.

“No,” I start. “I don’t recite baseball stats on demand for fun. I’m a baseball fan. I like the game, not the players. Not even when they look like you.” Shit. Why did I have to say that last part out loud?

“You like the way I look?” Those blue eyes darken, and my body responds accordingly.

“You’re not horrible to look at,” I admit and then quickly try and deflect my attraction to him by saying, “Would you like me to offer you Cam’s stats, just to prove I’m not lying?” I can’t help the edge in my voice. This isn’t the first time someone has questioned my ability, and yet it still bothers me just the same.

“No, I believe you.”

We lapse into silence, both drinking the last of our drinks. I take a second to look around the room and when my eyes land on Cam surrounded by a group of women, I smile because from the smile on his face I can tell he’s loving every second of it.

“So, baseball fan,” Josh says as my eyes swing back to meet his. “I never got your name.”

“That’s because I never offered it to you.” He laughs and I can’t help the curve in my own lips, so I sigh, giving in. “It’s Harper.”

“No last name?”

That’s when the panic starts to set in. My last name on others’ lips always fills me with dread. Will they realize who I am, who my father was? Will they demand to know all the details, even when I don’t know all of them myself? So, I tend to avoid it like the plague, like right now. I shake my head at his question, not wanting to go anywhere near that can of worms tonight. I have enough bad memories to deal with already. “I feel like I should know yours since you already know mine…” Smooth. I give him an A for effort.

“Well, to be fair, you wear yours on the back of your jersey for eight months out of the year.”

“Touché,” he says, while motioning for another water. I go to say something but am cut off by a group of women that surround him, pushing me out of the way.

And that’s my cue to leave.

“Josh!” one screeches. “King told us you would be back in a few minutes and it’s been forever!”

My fingers pull at the loose strings of my jeans and I will myself to get up and leave. But I don’t. These types are what Josh is used to. I don’t know why I thought he would be any different. He gravitates toward the ones that only want a story to tell in the morning, not the ones that dream of a white picket fence. I’m the one you cheat on with these kinds of girls. I’m the one you leave behind.

Before I talk myself out of it, I finish the last of my drink—to be fair it was only ice, but it distracts me for a split second—and pick up my purse off the bar as my eyes search for Mel. No more waiting around. I’m going home, even if she doesn’t want to leave. Just as I’m about to step away, a hand wraps around my wrist. Turning, Josh eyes me with this adorable, confused expression that has me fighting a smile.

“Where are you going?” he asks as my eyes look past his face and land on the line of girls that are shooting daggers in my direction.

“I need to find my friend, let her know that I’m going home.”

His eyebrows raise for a split second as the warmth of his touch seeps deeper into my skin.

“Stay.” It’s so simple, that one word. And as much as I wish I was strong enough to do just that, play pretend as if I’m ready for a man like him. I’m not.

“Sorry Josh, I need to go.”

One of the girls clears her throat and it takes everything in me not to glance in their direction.

“Plus, you seem to have other plans anyway.”

He doesn’t even look back; he just shakes his head.

“Nope. No plans. Please stay,” he pleads, and even though the heat from his fingers still lingers, I back up. Knowing I have to before I break my own rules.

“I have to work in the morning.” It’s an excuse, a true one but still an excuse, and from the defeated look that crosses his face, he knows it too.

“Can I at least get your number?”

I shake my head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I admit, slowly walking backward. His eyes never leave mine and I take a deep breath, knowing this might be the last time I see him in the flesh. “But you can do me a favor.”

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