Third Base (The Boys of Summer Book 1) (6 page)

I, of course, asked Davenport for a comment, but all I got was, “Call my agent.” My sources tell me that Davenport’s newest conquest left the stadium with him well after eleven wearing his team sweatshirt. Now if that doesn’t say “hook-up” or, at the very least, mean there’s some kind of romance going on...I don’t know what does.

The BoRe Blogger

O
ne thing I learned last night about Daisy is that she’s stubborn. When we arrived at the train station, I asked for her number. She actually balked until I reminded her that we were supposed to be having breakfast in the morning. When she tried to tell me breakfast wasn’t necessary, I told her she could either let me take her or I could make sure she gets every foul ball I catch so everyone could see her face on the Jumbo Tron. Once she realized that I wasn’t giving up, she finally relented and gave me her number.

Now I’m sitting outside the restaurant she chose, waiting for her to get here. We’re close to Boston University and it never occurred to me to find out what Daisy does. I guess I assumed she works but now that I think about it, I’ve seen her at afternoon games before. So unless she has a flexible work schedule, she’s most likely a student.

I pull out my phone and scroll through my notifications. My Twitter is going crazy with the new BoRe Blogger post that went live at five a.m. I’d really like to find this guy and pound his face into the bricks along the Freedom Trail. He doesn’t know jack shit about me, yet he runs his mouth behind the cloak of the internet, never showing his face or telling us his identity. In my book that’s a coward. The shit he wrote about last night makes my time with Daisy feel cheapened. If I didn’t think he’d misconstrue my words, I’d give him the interview he so desperately wants… all we need is a dark alley with no witnesses.

I spot Daisy walking down the street and take a moment to watch her. She’s focused on her phone and is wearing her ear buds, making herself completely oblivious to her surroundings. I have the sudden urge to yell at her and show her how much danger she’s putting herself in right now, but also to protect her by making sure she’s being driven from her house to every single destination she needs to get to.

Thinking like that is only going to get me in trouble. I doubt Daisy wants me as a knight in shining armor. Her shoulder bag is in the same spot as yesterday but this time she’s carrying another bag and I’m really hoping it’s not my sweatshirt. There’s a part of me that doesn’t want it back, that wants to see her in it again, but getting a fine for not having my uniform isn’t really my cup of tea.

When she’s closer, I get out of my SUV and wait for her at the rear of it. I rest against the back with my hands in my pockets. As she steps into the parking lot, she looks up. Even from this distance I can see her smile. I have no choice but to return one as well. It’s automatic whether I want to or not.

“Good morning,” I say, reaching out and moving a windblown piece of hair away from her face. I know I’ve caught her off guard when her lips part. Hell, I’ve caught myself off guard, but it feels good to touch her. I wish we had shared a kiss last night because the urge to kiss her now is at the forefront of my thoughts. I’d give anything to be able to cup her delicate face in my hands and to press my lips against hers.

“Sorry, I’m late. I missed my train.”

“It’s okay. You know I could’ve come to pick you up.”

She looks away, fumbling with her phone. “It doesn’t look busy; we should be able to get a table right away.”

She deflects my statement about picking her up. Maybe that’s a hint, and I shouldn’t ask about anything that has to do with where she lives. Either that or I’m being friend-zoned. I’ve never been friend-zoned before, and not sure I’m going to like it here.

Daisy pushes the bag in her hand toward me. “Your sweatshirt,” she explains.

“Thanks.” I take the bag and push off my car so I can put it in the backseat. My luggage for our six-day road trip is in back and ready to be transported by Renegades staff. The timing really can’t be any worse, especially when I’m trying to get to know someone. Not that any time between February and October will ever be convenient. I get the impression that Daisy is different from the others. It’s hard to put my finger on why. Maybe it’s the thrill or the fact that she doesn’t give a rat’s ass about who I am.

Daisy is by my side when I shut the car door. Her being there gives me a glimmer of hope, although I don’t know why I’m worried about whether she’s into me or not. If not, I’ll move on, no big deal. Thing is though, I want to test the water and see where this could go. I know that means spending time together, which I don’t have, but with creative scheduling, and some flexibility on her part, we can see each other a lot. She’s the first woman that has held my attention longer than one night, even if she doesn’t know I’ve been watching her from the field.

I place my hand on her shoulder and open the door, guiding her in. She tells the hostess “two” and follows her to where we’re going to sit. The booth – if that’s what it can be called – is small and does not accommodate my six-foot-two frame.

“Good game last night,” the hostess says as she shoots a flirtatious smile in my direction.

“Thanks,” I say as I sit down. The game sucked and the fact that she thinks I played well means she’s not a true fan. A real fan would point out my flaws and tell me to do better next time.

The table is small and my knees almost touch the underneath. If I stretch out, I’ll take up the space that Daisy is occupying too.

“Do you think we could sit in that booth over there?” I point to one a few rows down and near the window. The hostess sighs as she picks up our menus and walks over. I let Daisy lead the way with me following close behind.

“We’ll take some coffee, please.” The hostess nods and walks away.

Daisy leans forward and says, “She wanted to stay and flirt with you.”

I look over my shoulder to find her returning with our coffee. She sets down two full mugs, along with a carafe and a bowl of creamer, before walking way. I push one mug toward Daisy and wrap my left hand around the other one. I’m not much of a coffee drinker, but if my hand is holding something it may not twitch that bad. With my free hand, I decide to take a gamble and pick up Daisy’s hand, threading our fingers together.

“She doesn’t interest me. I’d rather flirt with you.”

Daisy goes rigid and fear rushes through me. I’ve crossed the line. I pull my hand back and slide it under my leg.

“I’m sorry, I was out of line.”

“No, it’s –”

I hold my hand up. “It’s cool, Daisy. We just met and I’m being pushy. We’re good.” I hand her the menu and hold mine in front of me. I don’t want her to see the look of annoyance on my face. I’m Ethan Davenport; starting third basemen for the Boston Renegades, getting women isn’t a problem for me.

We order breakfast engulfed in an awkward silence. I shouldn’t have tried to force anything on her. We just met and we’re both sober... and it’s not like we’re playing off residual feelings from a night between the sheets.

“Do you work?” I finally ask, breaking the tension.

Daisy sets her fork down and places her hands in her lap. “No, not exactly.” Her answer is curt and to the point. No elaboration on what she does during the day, or when she’s not at the stadium watching the game.

My frustration level is growing by leaps and bounds and I’m tempted to pay the check and bail, but something holds me back. I lean forward and pull her chin up with my index finger.

“Okay, I’ll start. I’m twenty-two years old. I graduated from Oregon State University with a degree in Communications. I play third base for the Boston Renegades. My name’s Ethan Davenport, what’s yours?”

“Daisy Robinson.”

“Hi Daisy, it’s nice to meet you. Where are you from?”

“Boston, born and bred, how about you?”

“Seattle, Washington.” I can’t help but smile, happy that she’s playing along. “When you leave here today, what are you going to do?” I ask before she has a chance to ask me another question. She sighs and looks out the window.

“I’m a student at Boston University. I study journalism.”

Now we’re getting somewhere. “How old are you?” Please be legal.

“I’m twenty. My birthday is April thirtieth, and before you check, it’s an off day,” she says with a small smile and a roll of her eyes.

A grin creeps across my face as I pull out my phone to verify that she is, in fact, correct. “That’s a shame. I would’ve had everyone sing to you. What time’s your first class?”

“I missed it. My next one is at ten.”

I lean back, flabbergasted that she’d skip class if she weren’t interested in me. “Why would you do that?”

Daisy shrugs. “I needed to return your sweatshirt.”

“You could’ve brought it to the park tonight.”

“Yes, but then people will talk and you don’t need any more rumors being spread around. You have enough.”

I smirk and lean forward. “You shouldn’t believe everything you read.”

“I’m sure some of them are true.”

“If they were true, they wouldn’t be rumors.” I say, shrugging. I need this conversation to go somewhere else because I don’t like the current direction. I’m not perfect. I never claim to be. I’m also no different than any other single man in the league. I like women and they like me. Some just like to blab louder. She stares at me like I’m supposed to dispel or confirm what has been written about me and that pisses me off.

My mood changes in an instant. Here I am trying to figure this girl out, get to know her and she’s bringing up the rumors floating around about me. I finish my coffee and signal for the check. I can’t change her mind, and I honestly think she’s okay with that. I have a game to prepare for, a title to win.

“I’d offer you a ride, but you’re going to tell me no or ignore me so… I guess I’ll see you at the game or something.” I throw down some money and leave her sitting at the table. I don’t look back to see if she’s watching me walk away, or getting up to chase after me. I already know she’s not. I have the feeling she met with me out of obligation and that’s it, just to appease me. And I don’t need those kinds of people in my life.

It sucks because I think she’s hot and she definitely causes a reaction, but so will the next one, and the one after that. Besides, with the road trip coming up, there will be plenty of opportunities to take out my frustrations.

As I drive toward the ballpark, hours before I’m due to be there, I think about the almost kiss last night. I’m not stupid enough to read into things, she felt something and whatever happened after we parted last night has changed her mind. When I had her in the clubhouse, she was in her own world, getting lost in the memorabilia that we keep in there. I was able to do that for her, and that brought something out in her. I guess it just wasn’t enough. It’s not like I was asking for a commitment or professing my love; I was just hoping to hang out and see where things go. No pressure.

My phone starts beeping and I reach for it, even though we’re in a hands free state. If it’s Daisy texting, I want to know what she has to say. Thankfully my light turns red and I’m able to check. It’s not from Daisy, but from Sarah.

Sarah Miller: 25 days / dinner with my folks?

Is this a countdown to sex?

Sarah Miller: Yes. I miss you. Work sucks. M&D say hi!

Miss you too. See you in 25