I did my best to ignore him. It was like skee-ball again, only instead of brushing against me, he was going to distract me with comments like that.
“What about high school,” I tried again. “Did you date in high school?”
“Can I ask you a question?” he asked abruptly.
“This isn’t about me,” I reminded him.
“It’s about baseball,” he told me, but there was a glimmer in his eye. Maybe if I gave him something, he’d give in return. An answer, of course, though I had the impression he’d give me anything else I might ask for. I shuddered.
“Fine,” I said, crossing my arms.
“Do you think I would make it in your fantasy draft?” he asked.
I was confused. What was he talking about?
“Mandy told me about the piece you did for that online magazine,” he clarified. “The one where you drafted all the historical players and reviewed the season. I read it the other night.”
My mouth dropped open. “You read the whole thing?” That had been an entire season’s worth of articles. Several hours’ worth of reading. Nick had gotten through half a paragraph.
“Stayed up late,” Nathan confessed. “Couldn’t stop reading it, actually.”
I felt myself blush, but for the first time with him, it wasn’t because he was making me feel all hot and bothered. I was truly touched by what he said.
“You really know your stuff,” he said.
“I’m just a nerd who likes baseball,” I told him and he grinned.
“And I’m just a nerd who likes to play it.”
We just stared at each other for a moment before Nathan cleared his throat. I looked away, feeling strangely emotional.
“Come on.” He abruptly rose from the table. “Let’s get out of here.”
Before I could say anything, he grabbed the trash from the table and tossed it in the garbage, took his beer, downed it, and headed out the door towards the parking lot.
Dammit, I thought to myself as I followed him. I had lost my chance to get something out of the interview.
But when I got outside, instead of spotting him halfway across the parking lot, waiting by his car, I found him completely distracted. By the batting cages. A guy and girl, clearly high school sweethearts, were in one of the cages together, the guy with his arms around the girl, showing her how to hold the bat.
“Ever tried one of these?” Nathan asked as I came to stand next to him.
I shook my head. Even though the arcade my mom had often left me in had a batting cage, I had never really given it a shot. It seemed a little scary, the whoosh and smack of a ball hurtling at uncomfortable speeds often towards your head. For the first time I realized how terrifying it must be to experience that in front of a stadium full of people, all of them hoping you’re going to hit the ball and win the game.
But the look on Nathan’s face was one of excitement, not fear. It was clear he absolutely loved all aspects of this game. He smiled fondly at the couple, still trying to get the girl’s stance correct, and I found myself with a stroke of genius.
“Nathan,” I said, coming around in front of him. “What would you say to making another bet?”
Chapter Sixteen
Nathan eyed me with caution. “I’m not playing skee-ball with you again,” he said. “You’re a hustler.”
“Now you’re just being a sore loser,” I told him, not sure yet if my idea was going to work.
He raised an eyebrow. “What’s the bet, Rose?” he asked, once again invoking The Titanic. That’s when I knew for sure I had his interest.
I pointed at the batting cages. “Each time I hit a ball, I get one off-the-record question back on the record.”
“No way!” he said. “For all I know, you spend your weekend at places like this, hoping one day you’ll be able to trick some poor innocent guy into giving up his innermost secrets.”
“Poor innocent guy?” I asked, shaking my head at him. “You’re hardly either of those.”
Definitely not innocent, I thought, remembering the eat-you-up smiles he had been giving me all night paired with the occasional suggestive comment and casual touch. Well, two people could play at that game.
“It’s not a fair bet,” he told me. “What chance do I have to defend myself?”
“Well, we can hardly go one-on-one,” I said, sensing I was going to lose my opportunity. “How about I have to get three in a row?” I wasn’t even sure I could get one, let alone three in a row, but I had to try something. At least he was still here, his car keys still in his pocket, the look on his face betraying his interest.
“What’s in it for me?” he asked. “Seems like you’re the only one who’s going to benefit from this little dare. What do I get?”
“Amusement,” I told him, but he shook his head.
“Naw,” he said, thinking for a moment. Then a huge grin spread across his face. “OK, I’ve got it. You get something if you get three in a row, I get something if I hit five in a row.”
“That’s not fair!” I objected. “You’re a professional.”
“So are you,” he said.
“I’m a professional journalist,” I reminded him. “It’s not a fair bet.”
“Hey,” he shrugged. “How much do you want those on-the-record questions?”
I frowned, realizing the bet had just backfired in my face.
He held out his hand. “Deal?”
I needed those questions. I just had to get three hits in a row. I could do that, right? I shook. “Deal.” But as he turned away, I remembered that we hadn’t finalized all aspects of this new bet.”
“Hey!” I asked. “What do you get if you make five in a row?”
“You’ll find out when it happens,” he said, turning away.
“Wait a minute, that’s not fair,” I argued, but he was already heading over to the booth where a bored-looking kid was handing out equipment. He perked up the minute he saw Nathan, though.
“Hey! You’re Nathan Ryder.”
“Sure am,” Nathan said, leaning on the counter. “Need to get a bat and helmet for two.” He pointed a thumb at me. “She just made a foolish bet.”
“We’re about to close,” the kid said regretfully.
“We don’t need it for very long.” Nathan gave him a hopeful smile.
“Would you sign a ball for me?” the kid asked, hero worship blooming in his eyes.
“Of course,” Nathan said, but I could see the tips of his ears turn pink as he bent over the ball the kid handed him, scrawling his name across the side. He hadn’t been lying about hating the attention, but I couldn’t deny how cute he acted when he got it.
“We won’t be long,” I told the kid, but he was completely focused on the newly signed memorabilia in his hand. I just needed to get one good, personal question off the record. And distract him from collecting any of his currently undetermined debts.
“Come on, hustler,” Nathan said, picking up the equipment and making sure to give the kid a big smile, which clearly made his day. “We’ll be back.”
He led me over to the cage furthest away from everything, practically tucked away in a corner, and went to fiddle with the settings on the machine as I put on my helmet, hoping I wasn’t going to ruin my hair too much. But by the smile Nathan gave me as he came back, I clearly hadn’t deterred his interest. Somehow I had to use this to my advantage.
I stared down at the aluminum bat, not exactly sure the best spacing for my hands. Should I put them close together or spread out? I tried to remember what I saw other players do, but all I could picture was Nathan’s butt in his tight, white uniform. I shook my head. This was the exact opposite of what I was hoping for.
“Have you ever done this before?” Nathan asked, coming over next to me. By the look on his face, having my hands that close together was clearly not the best position to take.