“Sports medicine. I figured if the pro gig doesn’t work out, I can still be around the sport and be a trainer.”
“My sister, she’s a trainer.” I almost messed up and told him her name and that she used to work for the Blaze but gave it up to be home with her son, Jett, and be able to build a home for him while her husband, Cameron, is on the road all season. They also travel to the away games when they can.
“Nice.” He nods. “Where does she work?”
“Um… she’s a stay-at-home mom right now. Her little boy, he’s three, and she’s having another. Her husband, he does well for himself, so she’s raising their family.” Not a lie, but not very forthcoming as to who my sister and my brother-in-law are, but that’s okay. I don’t like to divulge that information. Everyone knows who we are or who our dad is. Paisley had already graduated when she met Cameron, and my little sister, Peyton, is now on campus. Most people treat us just like anyone else, but a few fans of my dad or Cam’s will ask for autographs. Sometimes, Peyton and I oblige them. Other times, we give them a polite he’s just Dad, or he’s just Cam, and leave it at that.
“That’s good.” He nods. “What about you? What’s your major?”
“Do you really care?” I ask. It’s rude, and by his flinch, I know he feels the heat of my words. “Sorry,” I mutter. I don’t know why I’m so rude and short-fused when it comes to him. He’s trying to be nice, making polite conversation, and he even bought me a latte. The least I can do is be civil. I have no reason not to be. The fact he lights my body on fire anytime he’s near isn’t an excuse. That’s my issue. Not his.
He reaches across the table and links his fingers with mine. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know.”
I nod. Swallowing hard, I answer, “Public relations.”
He grins. “So you graduate in a year, right?”
“Yeah, next spring.”
He nods. “I’ll be your first client.”
“I What?” Did he just say what I think he did? He wants me to represent him? I couldn’t have heard that right.
He runs his thumb over the palm of my hand. “Yeah. I’m a professional baseball player, and we all have a PR person backing us.”
“Do you have one now?”
“Yeah, and the entire company, as well as the agent who is assigned to me, are complete shit. They let the press think and say whatever they want about me.”
“Do you deny the claims?”
“No. They advised me not to during my first year pro. Some bullshit about any press is good press, and here I am with the playboy player title that I never wanted.”
“Are you telling me you’re not the player the press portrays you to be?” I pause, giving him an “I call bullshit” look. “Come on, Holden, you don’t have to pretend to get to me. I already told you this”I point with the hand he’s not holding to him and then back to me“isn’t happening.”
“Didn’t your momma ever teach you not to believe everything you hear? Or in my case, everything you read?”
“Yes, actually she did. But I don’t need to hear or read anything to see you with a different woman on your arm every other week.” I give him a pointed look.
“I have events that I’m required to attend. I’m a single guy, and I take a plus-one.”
“It’s a good cover,” I say, trying to pull my hand away. He holds tight, not letting me go.
“It’s not a cover.” His blue eyes hold mine, willing me to believe him.
“I should be going.”
“Have dinner with me?”
I close my eyes and pull in a deep breath. When I open them, he’s watching me intently. “Thank you for the offer,” I say, remembering my manners. “However, I have to pass.”
“Who is he?” he blurts.
“Who is who?”
“The man in your life that’s keeping you from having dinner with me?”
“There isn’t a man in my life. My dad, my nephew, and my brother-in-law.” I almost said his name.
“Then why won’t you have dinner with me?”
“Holden.” I sigh. “I don’t want to be portrayed as one of the many who’ve been lucky enough to be on your arm. I’m single for a reason.”
“What reason is that?”
“I’m waiting for a love like my parents have. I’ve had enough dead-end relationships to know that it’s not worth the effort if he’s not who I want.”
“Who do you want?”
“I want to fall in love with a man who loves me like my father loves my mother.”
He nods. “I’m not giving up, Parker.”
“You’re wasting your time, Bailey.”
“Something tells me that’s not true,” he says, tilting his head to the side.
“Tell me something?” I ask. This time when I pull my hand back, he lets me go. I grab my bag and place it over my shoulder, prepared to make my escape.