Page 16 of Thoroughly Innocent Intent

“Like what?” He looks at me like I’m not making any sense.

“This has to be a five-star restaurant, isn’t there some sort of dress code we’re violating?” I say ‘we’ so it doesn’t sound like I’m talking about him, but he sees through my ruse. I expect him to be offended, but instead, he gives me another appreciative smile.

I’m sort of a regular, so they don’t care how I’m dressed. Besides, it’s Denver. This is a cowboy town at heart, and cowboys wear jeans.” He winks as the valet opens my door.

We head inside and the hostess spots him immediately, either because he’s taller than everyone on the planet or because she finds him as attractive as every other woman seems to, and she quickly leads us to a table in a back lounge. It’s darker here, more intimate, with small two-person tables dotting the exterior of the room, and a grand piano tucked into the corner opposite a rich mahogany bar. It feels like a speakeasy, or what I imagine one would feel like since I’ve only read about them.

“What do you recommend?” I wonder aloud as I look over the menu, which seems to have steak, steak, and more steak.

“If you like seafood I’d do the Steak Oscar. Or there’s the sampler, which is three small filets with different sauces.”

I feel him watching me, and keep my eyes pinned to the menu so I don’t have to acknowledge it. I’ve never really been the focus of eyes as intense as Colt’s are, and I have no idea what I’m supposed to do under his gaze.

As I’m deciding what to order, a waitress sets a bottle of wine and two glasses on the table between us. Before I can tell her that’s not necessary, Colt reaches for the bottle.

“You pay attention. I like that.” He pours me a glass.

“What?” I watch, confused, as he pours one for himself.

“You’re wondering why I’m having a drink.” He sets the bottle down, “When I told you I get more disciplined during the season.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Your eyes did.” His twinkle knowingly. “I don’t let loose and party during the season, but a glass of wine with dinner isn’t against my rules.” He clinks his glass against mine.

“I wasn’t judging,” I insist, embarrassed. “I was just thinking you must come here a lot if they know what you want to drink before you order it.”

“Got me there.” He smiles boyishly, and my stomach does a little flip.

“The steak is that good?” I sip my wine to try to drown the butterflies and end up moaning a little when the rich flavor hits my lips. I’m no connoisseur, but it’s easily the most delicious I’ve ever tasted.

“In my opinion.” He nods, staring at my lips. “But it’s not just the food.” He drags his gaze away to look at my eyes. “I can fade into the background here, so no one bothers me. It’s a nice way to get out of the house without being on display.”

I’ve worked with other ballplayers, a few people who have name recognition in Denver if not beyond, but I’ve never been with them outside a work setting, so it never occurred to me that something as simple as going out to eat might be a challenge for them. I’m suddenly grateful for my anonymity.

“So,” Colt drawls, studying me in the dimly lit room. “Chaser said you were some sort of missionary?”

“Chaser?”

“My agent.” He grins mischievously. “I usually only call him that when it’s the two of us talking because he hates that nickname, so don’t tell him I let you in on it.”

“Why does he hate it?” I ask, genuinely curious. “It’s practically his name.”

“It is, which is what makes it so funny. Plus, it’s true. He makes a living chasing guys to represent and chasing down contracts for them. And I mighta said management probably needed a chaser after he forced my last contract down their throats.” He gives me a conspiratorial wink.

Colt seems to light up during the retelling, and without realizing it I find myself smiling, genuinely smiling, as I listen to him. I’m not sure if that’s because the story is funny, or because of the husky timber he tells it with, but either way, I find that I’m enjoying myself, and we haven’t even talked about work. It’s…nice.

The waitress returns for our order, and after we’ve placed it, I answer some of Colt’s questions about what it was like to grow up in a third-world country. That’s not a secret, in fact, I think my background works in my favor when soliciting clients, because I have firsthand knowledge of so many of the world’s problems and how to address them, but usually, people read that in my bio.

It’s a different experience to talk to someone and watch their reactions as I describe a childhood without fancy houses, shopping malls, and restaurants. And while Colt maintains his playful tone throughout, I can tell I’ve opened up a window to a world he’s never seen before.

We dig into our food when it arrives - the Steak Oscar is to die for - and after our immediate hunger is sated, Colt steers things back to me.

“Is it strange to live here after growing up in small villages? I mean, It’s sort of the land of excess. Denver isn’t nearly as bad as some other places, but it’s no small town.”

“It was strange at first, especially as a student. I thought college was supposed to be all about learning, but it was just as much about having fun. People would cram themselves into these bars and clubs where you could barely hear anything, and they’d drink until they had trouble standing. I never quite got the hang of that.” I smile awkwardly, realizing I’ve probably just described his life in the off-season, so I hurry to cover my faux pa.

“My roommate Delaney had so many clothes she spilled into my dresser because I barely took up half of it. And you can find food everywhere. Amazing food. That part I really enjoy.” I trail off as I notice that he’s staring at me intently. I feel my face heat up and look at my plate in an effort to stop the flush.

---