Beyond the Game (Out of Reach 2)

Normally, I’m glued to my seat, and it’s Willow or my sisters who bring me more snacks. On the rare occasion that I do leave my seat, it’s for a run to the bathroom. Not today. Today, I need a break. I stand abruptly and turn toward Willow. “I’m going for more snacks. Do you want anything?”

“Oh! Cracker Jacks.” She grins. “Hey, Cameron, do you need anything?” she asks. I shoot her a warning glare, but she pretends not to notice.

“You making a run?” he asks, standing and stretching his arms over his head. My eyes go to his waist, where his shirt rides up, and I can see just a sliver of his toned abs, and oh, God, is that a V I see? Just when I thought he couldn’t be any more attractive.

“Paisley?” He bends down, his eyes capturing my attention.

“Yeah.” I nod. I think he asked me if I was going to get snacks, but I can’t be sure. My answer seems to be the right one when he gives me a nod of his own.

“I’ll come with. I need to stretch my legs anyway.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to refuse, but Willow speaks up before I can. “In that case, a refill, please?” she asks sweetly. She can pretend to be sweet and innocent all she wants. I know what she’s doing. She’s playing matchmaker. She’s always after me to date more. I don’t know how many times I’ve heard her tell me that there is more to life than baseball, and well, softball by default. If my college would have let me play with the guys, I would have. It’s bullshit if you ask me.

“I can get whatever you need,” I tell Cameron.

“It will be good to stretch out. Come on.” He offers me his hand, and I stare at it for three heartbeats before he takes the decision away from me. He reaches for my hand and laces his fingers through mine as he guides me up the steps.

My heart pounds against my chest, and my ears ring. My palm is sweating, and that just causes me to be embarrassed all over again. Sweaty palms when you’re holding the hand of the sexiest man on earth is not my idea of a good time.

When we reach the top of the stairs, he drops my hand and places his own on the small of my back. He’s walking close, too close, and I’m sure he can hear the rapid stutter of my heart inside my chest.

I expect him to drop his hand when we reach the concession stand, but he does the opposite. When someone needs to cross through since the line is long, he pulls me into his side, wrapping his arm around my waist.

“Excuse me,” the woman with two small kids complaining they have to potty says as she walks in front of us, cutting through to the long line for the bathrooms.

“What are you getting?” Cameron asks. His lips are right next to my ear, his arm still around my waist.

“Uh… a pretzel,” I say lamely. I’ve never been speechless in front of a man before. My dad is Easton Monroe. He was the starting first baseman for the Tennessee Blaze the majority of my life. I’ve met a lot of famous athletes—very attractive famous athletes—and I’ve never had this reaction before. I’ve never been breathless, with sweaty palms and the inability to speak coherently.

“Cheese or mustard?” Cameron asks. If he senses my inability to act like a normal human being around him, he doesn’t show it.

“Both.”

“My kinda girl,” he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. I don’t dare look to test my theory. Instead, I stare straight ahead and focus on my breathing. He’s just a guy. A ridiculously sexy guy.

“Next!” the concession stand attendant calls.

“Hi,” Cameron greets her. “We need two soft pretzels, with both cheese and mustard, a box of Cracker Jacks, a bottle of water, a large Coke, and Paisley?” He peers down at me. “What do you want to drink?”

“Gatorade. Blue.”

He nods. “And one blue Gatorade.” He releases his hold on me, allowing me to close my eyes and pull in a deep breath. When I open them, he’s passing money to the attendant.

“Cameron, no.” I place my hand on his arm. “You don’t have to do that.”

He smiles at me. “I wanted to. What kind of guy am I if I don’t pay for a beautiful woman’s snacks?” He winks and turns back to accept his change.

“Thank you,” I mumble as he hands me my Gatorade and Willow’s Coke.

“Ready?” he asks.

All I can do is nod and follow along behind him. When we reach the steps, he moves to the side and motions for me to go ahead of him. I do, not because he told me to, but because I need my seat. Any other time, it would be for fear of missing the game. Today, however, it’s because of the man walking along behind me, making my knees weak.

Chapter 2

Cameron

Is there anything hotter than a woman who loves baseball? The answer is no. A few hours ago, I wouldn’t have been able to answer that question. However, sitting next to Paisley during the Blaze game has me definite in my answer.