Page 143 of Chasing Headlines
She huffed and sputtered and turned almost the same color as the jersey I leant her. “I read romance novels and have an imagination.”
“So you're saying you fantasize about me?”
“What? No. Not you, never. Ever.”
I leaned my shoulder against the wall, and wished I wasn't 'on duty'. “You seemed to know a lot about me from day one.”
“That's because I—” She stopped. Wide eyes met my gaze. “I like baseball. And you're good at playing baseball.” She looked away. “I mean, reporters have to do research. Lots and lots of it. I kneweveryone'sstats from day one, just, ya know, to be prepared. You stand out is all. Between your batting average and your OBP, RBI's, stolen?—”
“We're more than those numbers. Any given day, they can mean everything or nothing. Averages from the past. They make us believe it's everything, but it's not. Cancer doesn't care if I was the best in the league last year. Neither does the IML when I'm labeled toxic and violent.”
“You're not either of those things. Never were.” A smile pulled at the corner of her mouth. It twisted into a wry expression. “A total jerk to your college beat reporter just trying to do her job. You've definitely been that.”
I let out a long, labored breath. “Says a lot about a person. What they choose for a career.”
“Who says I want to be a reporter?” She stuck her chin out as she stared up at me.
I shrugged. “Just assumed. But you're right, maybe your real aim is to be a stalker. You'd be good at it.”
“Ha ha ha, so funny these days. Anyway, I think we leave this, pretend us thing, with the coaches. We can appear to be 'so professional' around everyone else, and?—”
“There's still Deputy Reegan.”
“Oh, right.” She shook her head. “It's not like we're ever together around him, though. So, that's not a?—”
“I'll have to talk about it with my 'mental health professional'.”
She blinked. “What, really?”
“The coaches, deputy, and the doc all send reports back and forth. She's the one with the hugging thing. And wants reports of me making friends, and generally not being a temperamental asshole.”
“Ok. So, like, four people then? Pishaw, that's not anything to worry about then, right?”
“Probably Director Wilshire.” I bit my tongue to keep from laughing.Wonder how many people I can work it up to? Her journalism teacher? The dean?
“The lady who runs this place?”
I shrugged. “Friends with the Deputy.”
“You think they'll talk? Like it's a bunch of old guys and a therapist with a HIPAA mandate.”
“Hell if I know. I think they all hang out and watch sod poodles together.”
She chewed on her lip and frowned. “Sod what now?”
“Poodles. Minor league. Family friendly, so their website says.”
“Oh. Well, once sod poodles are involved . . . It must be serious.” She rolled her eyes.
“Probably should just give in and marry me.” My heart sped up. I'm not entirely sure why. I was just trying to get her to get flustered and turn colors. “Before a game, maybe. Even if I can't get on base, I'm guaranteed a homerun later.”
She scowled.Not quite the reaction I'd been going for?
“Not funny, Cooper. That's crossing the line.”
“What?” Heat flared along my jaw and neck.What'd I say?
“I don't joke about marriage. Nothing about marriage or being married. Or leaving and getting a divorce. None of it is funny.” She spun away from me and headed for the lobby door.