Thankfully, traffic is light and navigating the roads in Naples is fairly easy.
“How is it that you know where to go here, but don’t in Fort Myers?”
I can feel her gaze on me, and I try not to smile, but I’m grinning like a damn fool. This woman, she does things to me that I can’t even begin to describe. It’s not just her looks but also her being. I feel like I need to be around her.
“Uh…a recommendation from Branch Singleton,” I tell her. It’s not far from the truth. He is the one who encouraged me to surprise her at her office after he warned me that players have to watch out for the cleat-chasers because they’re not always chasing for the right reasons.
His comment left me confused until Davenport filled me in about his situation. Seems Branch has a child that he never gets to see, and that doesn’t sit well with him. I can’t blame him, really. I’d give anything to have my mom back, even if it were just for a minute.
After I put the car in park, I take a chance and look at Ainsley just to see her, to memorize what she looks like in my car. I turn slightly and catch her staring, and I can’t help but stare back. Her eyes wander over me, and when she finally reaches my face, her hazel orbs bore into my brown ones. There’s something in the air; it’s a mixture of her perfume, my cologne, and the lust I’m feeling for her. If this were any other time, I’d make a move, but not with her. I can’t. The timing has to be impeccable.
After getting out of the car, I run around the side to let her out, making sure I avoid looking at her through the front window. I don’t want to know if she’s watching me or not, and I’m afraid to look. I’m afraid that I will trip and fall on my face. She’ll laugh. I’ll think it’s funny, until I’m home nursing some wound that I have to hide from the skipper.
“Are you always this polite?”
My hand is on the small of her back while I guide her into the restaurant, holding the door open so she can pass through first. Her question catches me off guard, giving me pause. Aren’t all men like this? That is the one thing my father was strict about: manners.
“I am,” I tell her truthfully. “It’s the way I was brought up.”
“Two for Bailey,” I tell the hostess, still making sure that Ainsley is in front of me as we follow the hostess to our table.
“Well, your mother did it right,” she says, sitting down and taking the menu from the hostess.
“It was my father. My mother died when I was young. I honestly have very few memories of her, and what I do remember, sometimes I wonder if I made them up.”
Her eyes peer over the menu, and I see sadness. “How do you mean?”
I shrug, setting my menu down. “I’ll look at a picture of her, and I think of the day it was taken. What the weather was like, how she smelled, what we did that afternoon. It’s moments like those that make me wonder if it’s real or if I want them to be real.”
“How old were you when the memories started to fade?”
I look at her questioningly, wondering why she’d ask something like this. “I don’t know, maybe a year or so. I didn’t have a lot of memories of her to begin with, so it’s hard to say.”
“Do you miss her?”
I ponder her question for a moment, unsure of how to respond. I miss her because, at one point, she was in my life, but I’ve been told that I do. I don’t know if it’s a feeling I have deep inside of me or if it’s because that is what people expect of me. I don’t think about her, not like I think about my dad and wonder what he’s doing, so it’s hard for me to say whether I miss her or not.
The waitress saves me from answering by arriving at our table to take our order. Ainsley orders first, choosing the alfredo, while I select the spaghetti and meatballs. Only after I place my order do I realize that Italian probably isn’t the best first date place.
“Uh, sorry about the restaurant. I wasn’t thinking about the sauce.”
“It’s okay. I promise not to be messy.” She winks, setting me at ease.
“Phew.” I wipe my forehead, causing her to laugh. It’s a sweet sound, and one I enjoy listening to over and over again, and the sound is so much better when she’s doing it in person and not over the phone.
“So, Ms. Burke, what do you do in your free time?”
“Try to avoid eager baseball players like yourself.”
I fall back into the booth with my hand on my chest. “You break my heart.”
“I’m sure you’ll survive.” She drinks from her glass, never taking her eyes from mine.
“What if I don’t? Will you nurse me back to health?”
Ainsley leans forward, the ends of her strawberry blond ponytail falling over her shoulder. “You’re not very subtle.”
I match her position and reply, “Not when I know what I want.”