Fall off the mound. Fuck that. He’d been born to stand on this mound and throw pitches.
He started slow, since Phil and the trainers hadn’t allowed him to pitch in over a week. He’d been forced to sit in the bullpen and watch someone else take his spot in the rotation. He’d chewed through about six bags of sunflower seeds, his irritation spiking with every pitch he hadn’t been able to throw.
Even worse, they’d lost the game he should have been pitching.
Now, though, he was getting his groove back—especially his curveball. With every pitch he threw, he felt more and more like himself again. And when he finished his warm-up set and walked off the mound, he felt like no time had passed, as if he could pitch an entire game right now and strike out twenty-seven batters in a row.
He wished he could pitch a game right now, instead of two days from now when it was his turn in the rotation again. He was itching to prove to his coaches and the medical team that there wasn’t a damn thing wrong with him.
In the meantime, though, he wanted to get in touch with Aubry. He’d put it off long enough, and these injuries had gotten in the way.
He wanted to see her if she had time, and since they were playing a day game today, he had a night off. Which meant they might be able to get together tonight.
The only way he was going to find out was to ask, so he pulled out his phone and dialed her number, which, after a few rings, went to voice mail.
Okay, so she was probably working. That made sense. He decided to text her instead.
I’m off tonight. Are you free? If so, how about dinner?
He waited a few minutes and didn’t get an answer, so he shoved his phone in his bag and decided to check it later.
“Later” ended up being after his game that afternoon. Garrett Scott pitched a great game, allowing only one run, and the offense helped out by scoring four. It felt good to get a win, even if he didn’t get a chance to help out. The team was what mattered.
He checked his phone and found a return text from Aubry.
Not sure you and I seeing each other is a good idea.
His lips curved. At least it wasn’t an outright no.
He typed a return text to her.
Are you working tonight?
This time, she replied right away. I worked earlier. I’m off tonight.
He pressed the call button, and she answered.
“Hi, Tucker.”
“Hey. So they occasionally give you days off, huh?”
“Shockingly, yes. And you as well?”
“We just finished up a game.”
“Oh, that’s right. You have midday games during the week sometimes. And how did that turn out?”
“We won.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
He could tell she was trying to turn their conversation toward anything but going out, so he intended to steer it back. “So . . . about dinner?”
“Oh, right. Like I mentioned in my text message, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not? You’re good-looking, I’m good-looking, we’re around the same age. I assume you like to eat.”
She laughed. “I do like to eat.”
“Great. Give me your address and around seven thirty we’ll do that eating thing together.”
He heard her sigh. “Okay. But at dinner I’ll tell you why we shouldn’t see each other.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
She said she’d text him her address when he offered to pick her up. After he hung up, he smiled.
He had a date with Aubry tonight.
AFTER TUCKER CALLED, AUBRY HAD SPENT THE REST of the afternoon taking care of business. She paid some bills, dashed to the grocery store and did some laundry. Keeping her eye on the time, she took a quick shower and stared at herself in the mirror, feeling ridiculous for agreeing to a date with Tucker.
As if her life wasn’t complicated enough. She should have said no when he asked her.
So why hadn’t she?
Because you want to go out with him, idiot. That’s why.
Ignoring that annoying inner voice, she dried her hair, put on makeup and went to her closet, trying to figure out what to wear.
Dinner. Nights could still be cool, so she chose a pair of black skinny pants and a long top, then slid on her boots and selected a pair of silver dangly earrings.
Okay, maybe it felt good to dress up in something besides scrubs for a change, and eat something other than microwave meals or a salad. Or, God forbid, hospital cafeteria food. Tucker was damn fine to look at, so there was that as well. How bad could it be to share a meal with a hot guy she was attracted to? He was funny, smart, and if they didn’t end up in the ER because he fell off the curb and broke an ankle or something, it might just be a decent night.
It was just a date, not a relationship. Simple, easy, and fun. Not life changing or anything. She could live with that.
When the doorbell rang, she felt ridiculous for the sudden uptick in her pulse rate.
Just a date, Aubry. Remember? Light and simple.
She opened the door and swallowed at the sight of him wearing dark jeans and a button-down shirt.
“Hi,” she said.
His lips ticked up. “Hi yourself.”