Flirting With First Page 12

  “Knock.”

  “I’m not supposed to be here.”

  “Trista. You’re my hands, my eyes. You’re supposed to be there.”

  That didn’t make her feel better.

  “And I know he’d want you there.”

  “Even after Trevor showed up?”

  “Especially.”

  Trista considered that. Perhaps that was true. Her hand shook as she knocked, quietly at first, but when the talking inside continued, she banged harder.

  A man opened the door, someone Trista had never seen before. She put Bree on speakerphone.

  “Hi. Um, I’m Trista McKinney with Bree Stone on the phone. Ryker’s parents are concerned he hasn’t called…” The man’s eyebrows rose, and he glanced over his shoulder into the room. Then back at Trista.

  “Skip, you forget how to talk?” Ryker’s joking tone sent waves of relief through Trista.

  The man’s eyes twinkled and he stepped back. “Come on in.”

  Trista hardly noticed him as she passed, her gaze drinking in Ryker on the bed. The room looked almost like a hospital room, and that made her nervous. She’d never liked the doctor’s office, and the hospital brought fear tremors. People died in hospitals.

  But Ryker looked great. He had awesome color. His eyes sparkled at her in welcome, and…her eyes travelled over his bare chest to the blanket covering his thighs…was he naked? She turned away. “I’m sorry.”

  “What? Oh no. Trista, I’ve got shorts on.” He lifted up the blanket. “See?”

  She did want to see. Ryker without a shirt on was something she didn’t want to miss. Bree spoke over the phone’s speaker. “What’s going on?”

  Trista felt her face heat. “Oh! Bree.” She laughed and made a face at Ryker’s overly suggestive eyebrows. “Here’s your brother.” She handed the phone to Ryker. His fingers feather-touched her hand as he took it from her. He took his sister off speakerphone, and, with his other hand, he tugged Trista closer to him on the bed. She sat close enough to reach out and run a hand down his rippled chest, close enough that his thigh was pressed up against hers, and she realized for the first time how solid and muscular Ryker really was. He didn’t walk around in tight t-shirts like Cole, and his clothes understated his build. She would never have guessed how massively toned he was.

  An ice pack up was wrapped against his ribs, and it made her wince a little, but it did nothing to stem her desire to spend some time with that beautiful chest.

  Thinking back to the commercial they’d done, she giggled.

  Ryker raised his eyebrows at her and returned to reassuring Bree. “Sister, it’s nothing. The doctor said I got the wind knocked out of me and I might have bruised a rib. X-rays came back normal. I promise. Tell Mom they’re making me rest, but even the careful doc said I can play our next game in two days.”

  He laughed. “I know. I was hoping I’d get some time to come home too.” He reached for Trista’s hand and held tight, smiling. There was such a huge amount of caring in that smile that she almost got a lump in her throat. And then his face went blank. “Yes, I saw him.” His eyes flitted to Trista’s. “She’s smart enough to know what team she’s on.” Trista rolled her eyes.

  Then Ryker laughed. “She didn’t.” He looked over at Trista. “The stadium worker wouldn’t let you back until she knew if you were Team Ryker?”

  Her nod was reluctant and slow. “The whole thing is ridiculous.”

  He winked and then finished up with Bree. As soon as he set the phone down on the bed, he turned his searching eyes on her. She wanted to fling her arms around him and never let go.

  He wrapped his arm over her shoulder. “That’s better.”

  “Are you okay?”

  He was quiet for a long time. So quiet she twisted to look up into his face.

  “Physically, I’m fine. What you heard me tell Bree is true. This is nothing. The guys are gonna make fun of me for flopping or something.” He ran his hand through his hair, something she’d never seen him do before. It sent his perfectly styled wave into a sexy mussed look that Trista wanted to weave her fingers through.

  She forced her eyes back down to his face. “So what’s wrong?”

  “Something happened to me out there today.” He stared at the white wall on the other side of the room with so much confusion on his face Trista didn’t know what to do to help him. “I lost it.”

  “What do you mean?” She thought back over the game. “You played awesome.”

  “With a vengeance. I don’t know. I think Trevor is driving me crazy.” He pulled up his phone. “Have you seen what he’s doing?”

  She shook her head. “I never read that stuff. It’s better not to.”

  “Well, you should. Watch this.”

  Ryker handed her his phone and she pushed play. It was just Trevor talking to the camera. “I’m putting myself in the game. Everyone’s team Trevor or Ryker or whatever. But I’m team Trista. And I’m determined to win her over. I’m not out of the game yet. You forget, Ryker. I’ve got her for three straight weeks on the set of our movie.” The video went blank.

  She closed her eyes. “What is he doing?”

  “That’s what I want to know. Is this for real or just some promotional strategy?”

  “He did say he’d back off. But the whole thing is just for the press attention. He said we’ve been trending for weeks. Our agents are all excited. When I told them to keep my personal life out of it, they asked if I cared what he said about his feelings. I told him I didn’t care.” The more she thought about it, the angrier she became. “But he didn’t tell me he was going to do this or call you out like that. That’s not what I call leaving my personal life out of things.”

  “I wanted to pound him.”

  “What?” She half laughed until she saw the serious expression on his face.

  “I’m serious. I’ve never been so angry with a guy. Does he think he can lay a challenge out like that and I won’t do something about it?”

  “Whoa, no, Ryker.”

  “I’m not just gonna sit back and take it, Trista. He’s calling me out.”

  “He’s trying to force you into the public. He’s just looking for more conversation, more drama, more public interest. If you say nothing, it will die down.”

  “We’ve been saying nothing, and it’s only growing.”

  “Because he’s continuing the conversation. The more we feed it, the more it grows.”

  Ryker was silent again, and Trista let him think through things. Then she said, “Ryker, this means nothing. It’s just public perception. What’s really going on…” She stopped herself. What she was about to say was too special to just spit out. But Ryker tipped forward so he could see her face better, and he winced.

  “Are you okay? I thought you just had the wind knocked out of you.”

  “And a bruise.” He touched the back of his hand to her cheek. “What were you going to say?”

  She took a deep breath. “What’s really going on with us is too special for the public. We don’t want them messing with this.” There, she’d said it.

  He pulled her closer to him. “But I don’t want you or anyone thinking I’m not into you or serious enough to prove it.”

  Thrilled energy coursed through her. “You can prove it to me.” She adjusted her body so that she could lean across him. “Slowly, over time. We can prove it to each other.” She placed a hand on his chest.

  His eyes darkened, and he placed a hand over hers. “I’m done with slow.” The fierceness in his gaze bore into her.

  “You are?”

  “Yes, I’m all kinds of amped up about you, Trista, and I want you in my life as much and as often as we can. And even if I can’t tell the world that, I’ll tell you. And no punk like Trevor could possibly be as sincere about all this as I am.”

  As much as she loved this new side of Ryker Stone, she needed to ease his worry about Trevor. “You’re right. He isn’t interested.”

  Ryker stopped
and searched her face. “He’s not?”

  She shook her head. “I promise. He’s not at all interested. At all.” She hoped he wouldn’t dim any of his previous mood about her, though. She’d never seen anyone care about her that much. Hearing Ryker talk as though she were precious made her wish she’d recorded his every word.

  He shook his head. “My new game plan stands. I’m interested in taking things to the next level. When someone says tickets for friends and family, I want that to always include you. When someone asks who I’m seeing, it’s you, only you, all you. If someone wants to know if I have a girlfriend, I’ll tell them it’s Trista McKinney. Family dinners won’t be the same unless you’re there. In fact, now that I’ve been to the hairdresser with you, I don’t even want to get highlights without you. There is no more Ryker without Trista as far as I’m concerned. And if that scares you away or makes you lose interest or whatever, then so be it. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Her smile would not dim. No matter what she did, it only grew and grew until it hurt her face. A part of her that always felt on the outs now felt deliciously in. “Did you just say what I think you said?”

  “Which part?”

  “The part about being my boyfriend.”

  “Oh yeah. That was definitely said.”

  She nodded, still smiling in a ridiculous fashion. “Does this mean we’re at second base?”

  He tipped his head back and laughed. “Don’t tempt me, beautiful.” He brought her hand to his lips. I’m just happy that you’re my girl.”

  “Ryker, I’ve been waiting for this since I met you. I’ve been yours for months.”

  His mouth dropped. “What?”

  She shrugged. “It’s true.”

  “You mean, I could have been this happy at the start of the season?”

  “Close to it. I fell for you at the red carpet event.”

  She didn’t think she’d ever heard Ryker say so much in one breath. She was floored and flying in a cloud of happiness at the same time.

  “Well, now I know. Never let moments like this one pass us by—that’s my new motto.” He side-eyed her. “That and no more going slow.”

  She snuggled into him. “I think your motto is now my motto.” She was almost afraid to speak, afraid she’d say something to change his mind. Ryker Stone was her boyfriend!

  Chapter 17

  Unanswered phone calls to his girlfriend were not how he’d envisioned things progressing with Trista. The fourth ring in Ryker’s ear made him turn the phone off and pocket it until later. Trista was on set now, and he never knew when she would pick up. Some days she called him back late at night, and he heard her voicemails in the morning. Since becoming her boyfriend, he’d talked to her less than ever.

  As the press for her newest movie amped up on social media, he battled jealousy, insecurity, pride in her work, and a longing to be with her. He wouldn’t have things with Trista McKinney figured out any time soon.

  He grabbed his gym bag. Time to go for a run. He’d just show up early for practice and take to the field. That was his favorite place to run anyway. He loved the turf, the memories, the stands, the smell. He breathed deeply now, trying to remember the smell of popcorn and hot dogs that was always present at the ballpark, even down on the field.

  His fake rabbit foot swung from his rearview mirror, and he studied it at a red light. Everyone thought he was lucky. And he really did have an uncanny knack at winning games of chance. But he couldn’t rely on it as a consistent thing. As soon as he got the slightest bit confident, something always happened to derail his expectations.

  He revved the engine, waiting for the light to change. The question always at the back of his mind when people brought up his luck begged to be addressed. What if it was all luck? What if his place with the SixPack and his spot on the Blue Jays was just a huge stream of luck?

  The light turned green. He peeled out.

  People didn’t understand the danger of luck. No one could control the outcome. Relying on chance was a dangerous thing when the results really mattered.

  Police lights turned on behind him, and a set of sirens started to wail. Ryker winced and prepared to pull over. Perhaps his luck had run out. But the car zipped past him and pulled over the guy right in front of him. Ryker shook his head, surprised but wary, as he pulled out his rock and kissed it. Couldn’t hurt. One day his luck really might run out. Where would that leave him?

  The players’ parking lot was empty. He made his way to the utility door and pressed the security intercom. “Ryker here.”

  The door buzzed, and the quiet of the hallways comforted him. He’d read something once that stuck with him: “Peace is the way, as well as the destination.” Banani Ray from Awakening Inner Guru or something. And while he wasn’t sure about anything else in the book, he really related to the idea that the journey matters.

  The quietness of the hallway filled him, and by the time he was in the locker room and wearing his workout uniform for the day, he was ready to run. Not because he needed to pound something out of him, but because he craved the feeling of putting one foot in front of the other.

  As he picked up his feet, starting in a slow jog, he smiled down at his crisp white socks. The guys razzed him about his socks. They were bleach white and pulled up to exactly the same height on his ankles. His shoes were clean. He was presentable. They could razz him all they wanted. He looked good. His smile grew. And he was a dang good baseball player.

  If he was lucky, then all the SixPack were lucky too. How many guys got to go pro with their best friends? No one else he’d ever heard of. Not all in the same year straight out of college.

  He ran slowly, just exploring the outfield, the foul ball zone, the area behind the plate. But then he picked up his pace, running by the dugout and around the area outside of first base. He pounded the grass, his feet moving faster and faster until he barely noticed them on the turf. His energy grew. His breathing picked up, and he welcomed the tingling in his muscles. He ran three times around the field before he tired. He slowed to a jog. The team wouldn’t be showing up for another hour at least. He curved around the last leg.

  “Hey, batter, batter.”

  He stopped short. Trista.

  “Sa-wing, batter, batter.” She crouched down like she was guarding first base, rocking from foot to foot, her hands out as though she held a mitt to catch the ball. She turned her head to eye him over her shoulder. She lifted her eyebrow, and her grin quirked in a half smile. He could have sworn she was in a baseball movie, covering first base. He laughed and picked up his pace toward home plate. He nodded to her and wiggled his hips, jiggling a pretend bat. “And Rabbit connects with the ball! It’s going long.” He took off running, straight at her. “We’re gonna call it a single.”

  “But no,” Trista called out between her cupped hands. “The fans go wild. It bounces, but the outfielder picks it up, he hops once and sends it soaring to Trista at first. She eyes it, she shifts, raises her mitt…”

  “But Rabbit runs faster. It’s gonna be a close one, folks. This out could win the game.”

  “Or a woman on base could change things for Team Ryker.”

  Ryker raced faster and Trista pretended to look between him and an incoming pass.

  When he reached her, he scooped her in his arms and raced to second. “Ryker Stone outsmarts the beautiful lady on first. He takes second and heads to third.” His breathing picked up, her soft body in his arms, his heart pounding into her. “We’ve never seen him run so fast. He rounds third. The ball’s still trying to keep up. He’s heading for home. Can he make it?” Her hand tightened around his neck.

  Ryker pounded the last few feet and stopped on the base. “Home!” His breath came out heavy as his arms cradled Trista like she was just as precious as he knew her to be. “You’re here.”

  Her eyes lit, filled with expectation, hope, and happiness. “I am.”

  “Do I want to know how you got here or what kind of mess this is gonna
make of your production schedule?”

  “No.”

  “Good enough.” He watched her, not setting her down, and held her close until his breathing slowed. Then he lifted the corner of his mouth. “I like you here.”

  “We still on home plate?”

  “Yes we are.”

  “So, is this what it takes to get you to home?”

  “Our version, yes.”

  She watched him. “I missed you.”

  He nodded. “Always. I was thinking maybe I could shrink you down and carry you around in my pocket.”

  “Is there room in there with the Ryker Stone?”

  “Nah, you’d get knocked around in there. I was thinking more in my shirt pocket.”

  She laughed. “We’ve only got thirty minutes.”

  He set her down on home plate with him, holding her close, pressed up against him. “Then we better make the most of it.”

  She lifted her chin. “That’s what I was thinking.”

  His lips were hungry for hers, but he waited. “I thought of something important today.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Mm-hmm. I’m enjoying this journey. You. Me. I like us.” Searching her face, drinking in the view of her, he could wait not longer. He covered her mouth with his own. When she opened hers, he pulled at her lips, moving across them, caressing their softness. He was overcome with the beauty of Trista. Her lovely skin, her hands, her waist, but even more the intent way she watched him, the kindness in her eyes, her care around others, her genius understanding of numbers. He loved the quirky way she managed to excel at the things that mattered in her life. Bree had a whole new confidence thanks to her. His parents appreciated her. As his arms circled around her tighter, and his kisses became more insistent, he moaned then murmured up against her mouth, “Stay.”

  She whimpered. “I can’t.”

  He sighed. He kissed her once more, again. Soft, short. Then his kisses began to linger again, insistent, pressing into her as if he knew they had to stop but he just wanted one more, and then another. Reluctantly he stopped and pulled her into a hug. “Thank you for coming.”