11. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

Andrew

Watching Lottie inspect my drum set, I realize this is how I will die. Alone, surrounded by lifeless furniture, probably with some mean cats and a cactus. I frown because what man considers such things? I'll be fine. I'll get over Lottie, a woman I've had two dates with and nothing more. Sure, she's exactly what I want but there must be other women out there like her who won't deflate when I tell them what I do for a living. For now. There is every reason to believe this is my last season.

I contemplate telling Lottie that I'm probably done with baseball, but I don't. I can't guilt her or manipulate her into a relationship. It's tempting, especially when I can't peel my eyes from her or stop thinking about kissing her until she forgets her own name. I really, really want to connect those dots that trail from her jaw to the nape of her neck. Every time she bends over to inspect something on my drum set, I get a good glimpse of them. She does not make it easy on a man, that's for sure.

She picks up the drum sticks and adjusts the seat. Her stomach growls and I remember I said we'd have a snack.

"I have some fruit. Is that okay?" I ask.

She blushes and mumbles something about her stomach growling. "Yeah, that would be great. Thanks."

Her tone is stiff and awkward, but I suppose that is to be expected after the conversation we just had. Maybe she only offered to be friends with me to ease the sting and now she's regretting it. I almost give her another chance to escape but remind myself that she's grown. I've given her no reason to believe I'd keep her from leaving, so if she wants to walk out the door she's free to do so on her own prompting.

In my kitchen, I rummage behind the prepped food containers Layne left. The fruit is pre-cut, courtesy of my sister who must think I am a toddler who cannot be trusted with sharp objects. I love that she preps for me, but I can do without the overzealousness. I dump it into two bowls and grab a couple of forks and bottled water from the counter.

Back in the living room, Lottie is seated on the sofa and thumbing through a magazine. It takes me a moment to recognize what she's reading when she pauses on a page. It's the Sharks alumni magazine, and she has stopped to read an article about me. Her gaze travels over the images on the left page and the faintest smile tugs at the corners of her lips.

There is no doubt in my mind that I can treat her better than her ex did. I'm not him, would never do the things he did, and fierce determination blooms to life in me. I'm going to prove it to her one way or another. I'll show her who I am and pray that it's enough to change her mind.

"Here we go," I say and set the bowl on the coffee table in front of her.

"Thanks." She ignores the fork and pops a grape in her mouth before lifting the magazine to show me what she has. "I was reading about the team. You've only been with the Sharks a few years, right?"

Arching an eyebrow, I try to play it cool. She can research if she wants. The woman can filet me open and inspect my insides if it will make her more comfortable handing her heart over to me.

"Yep. I was signed to a team in Baltimore right out of college, then played in the majors for a couple of years before joining the Sharks. It's been my home ever since, and I love it here." I sit beside her with enough room for her to choose her proximity to me. She can easily slide closer or shimmy a bit to her right and escape me. She does neither. Instead, she turns around to face me and pulls one leg up and under her.

"Do you think you'll stick around? I mean, will you stay with the Sharks or end up somewhere else?"

I swallow a strawberry and think about her question. It feels like a good opening to tell her that I'm probably going to have to retire soon. This year or next at the latest. But I don't want to come across as begging or pushing. "Yeah. I like Savannah. I definitely won't go anywhere else to play. I'm too old for that at this point, and since I have a house here and my sister is local, I don't see moving in the future."

Lottie nods and eats a few blueberries to fill the silence. Her gaze drifts back to the magazine, but who knows what she's thinking about. "What do you mean about not playing for another team? You'd quit if they traded you?"

"No one would take me, honestly. I'm good at my job, but with my age and injuries, I'm not appealing to another team. I'm winding down, so to speak."

"What does that mean? Sounds like you're describing an antique clock." She furrows her brow and sinks deeper into the sofa with her bowl.

"I'm out right now for a couple of weeks due to a shoulder injury. I overextended it last year, and ever since it gets inflamed and stiff. Sometimes I can't throw at all."

"Does that mean you'll retire soon?"

She asked, though I did somewhat lead her to the conclusion, so I don't feel as guilty about admitting the truth.

"Probably after this season. Next if I'm lucky, but yeah." My response brings a shadow to her expression. Her lips turn down, so I'm quick to add, "It's normal though. I'm at retirement age, so it isn't anything I didn't see coming. I'm about the right age for retirement for my position."

This seems to ease that discontentment a little but it doesn't disappear entirely. "What will you do after retirement?"

"Mmm, not sure. I've been asking myself the same thing for a while. I've always wanted to have a family, but baseball took all of my work and focus until recently. As for work, I've saved well so I don't have to figure anything out right away. I have some time to see what else I'm good at. Maybe I'll become a drummer in a band."

Lottie laughs so hard she throws her head back and snorts. She immediately covers the sound with her hand and a deep crimson spreads over her entire face all the way to her hears. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snort like a pig."

Her laughter is infectious, and I can't ignore how happy she makes me merely by being herself. She's genuine and her reactions are honest. She doesn't hold her emotions back or keep you guessing. What you see is what you get.

"I love a woman who isn't ashamed to laugh with her whole existence." Immediately, I wish I could take it back, reword it somehow, have a do over that doesn't make her stop laughing and look away. Guilt eats at me when she lowers her eyes to her bowl and changes her position to face forward. I've made her uncomfortable. "I'm sorry, I didn't—"

"No, no." Lottie raises her hand to stop me. "It's nothing you did wrong. Honest. I'm just…" She motions toward her chest as if seeking the right words to explain herself. "I'm sorry it has to be this way. I feel awful pushing you away when you didn't do anything wrong. It's just that I don't think I'm as ready to date again as my friends seem to think I am."

"You don't have to apologize to me for any of that. I shouldn't have said what I did. It sort of slipped out, but that doesn't change that it's true. I like that you're so free with your laughter, and I think it's a good quality in a friend."

She pinches the bridge of her nose and squeezes her eyes shut. I'm lousing this friendship up and it's only just begun. It's probably a good thing she doesn't want more because I'm off to a smashing start.

"This is probably going to come out wrong but I…Andrew, I…I don't like this."

My body stiffens and I instinctively slide away from her a little more. Brutal honesty incoming if the tension between us is any indicator.

"I don't like punishing you for Rory's mistakes. It feels wrong, but I can't seem to get my heart wrapped around that as much as my head is. Can we just…I'm not sure. I don't…I don't know what I'm trying to say. This is literally our second date, and I'm behaving like this is some sort of big breakup. I shouldn't feel so empty over this situation."

I have zero idea what she's getting at. I don't want to venture a guess, because I'll definitely be wrong. The only thing I can do is be honest about my intentions, because her body language and the quick glances she keeps sending my way—coupled with the fact that she is still here say more than her words.

"Listen, Lottie, the only reason I agreed to go on the silly app was because my best friend insisted it was a good idea. I wasn't lying when I said I want a family, and that begins with finding a woman with the same morals, ethics, and plans for the future that I have. And of course, finding that woman means I have to date. Up until now, dating has been unenjoyable for me. I never know what the woman is in it for—me or my money and popularity—and it's honestly a pain trying to figure it out. When Owen told me about the app and how successful it's been, I reluctantly agreed." I shift so I can face her better while not invading her personal space.

Lottie relaxes a little.

"I told you that I hoped dating someone who got to know me as Andrew rather than the Sharks pitcher first would help me. That was one hundred percent true. I never meant to put you in an awkward position, but I'd be lying if I didn't say I…" I trail, worried I've already gone too far.

Her green eyes connect with mine again. I'm not sure what to expect, but it's certainly not a detailed explanation of what went wrong in her last relationship. "Rory was supposed to be my last boyfriend, you know? I thought we would get married and live a long and happy life together. There was no indication he was unhappy. I found out about his secret relationship with their social media manager by accident. I wanted to surprise him by showing up at one of his away games, and I literally walked in on them making out in the lobby of the hotel. He didn't even try to hide it, which means the entire team knew. I wasn't only betrayed by him, but also his friends who I thought cared about me. And their girlfriends and wives who knew. No one told me. No one."

Anger burns in my chest. What a sleazy team. Rory. I have a name, and I know who he is. He's the Savannah Arctic's team captain, all-star player, and by all accounts likely bound for a major league hockey contract. But he's a full-blown idiot if he took this woman for granted.

I take a deep breath and scratch my hand over my scruffy beard. I can't imagine how much it hurt her to discover so many people didn't value her enough to tell her the truth. People who were supposed to be her friends. Still, I know for a fact that the guys on the Sharks would kick me into next week if I looked sideways at another woman while dating Lottie. They'd out me in a second if I betrayed her, and the wives would beat me to a bloody pulp. The Sharks are just built different.

"I'm sorry he did that to you. That they all did that. I truly am, Lottie, because you definitely did not deserve that. No one would."

She releases a little huff and bites her lip before looking away. She's trying not to cry. I hate it. I want to comfort her, to tell her that if she gave me a chance, I'd protect her heart. But it's too soon for her to know that. Heck, it's too soon to know if she would do the same for me, but I'm willing to take that risk. I'm a fool. A glutton for punishment. Who gets so stuck on a woman he hardly knows?

"I don't mean to dump my whole past on you, but I feel like you deserve to know why I'm so hesitant. It isn't that you did anything wrong. It's the lifestyle that I don't trust anymore. To be fair, I was hesitant to even date Rory, but he pulled me in with promises and pretty words."

I want to shove this guy's hockey stick in places where only a proctologist can remove it.

"Lottie, I get it. You've been hurt badly. I don't take offense to anything you've said or your reason for not wanting to date me. If being friends is too much, I'll understand that too." I'll hate it. I'll hate every gruesome second of knowing this woman was right at the tips of my fingers and escaped, but what else can I do? There is nothing about Lottie that makes me believe she's not worth the fight, but even I know when the fight is lost before it begins.

"I'm really sorry though. I'm not sure how to feel right now."

"You don't have to know. We can be friends, and if you decide you don't even want that, then you tell me and I walk away."

Her eyes widen a little. I don't know what spurs it, but I know what fear looks like when I see it. There's a flicker of it. Something almost imperceptible, but it's there. She doesn't want to lose this opportunity, but she's terrified of keeping it, too. The question is, which is she more afraid of? Diving in head first and giving another athlete a chance, or walking away and missing out on what this could become?

The woman is full of surprises, so when she smiles and says, "You make it hard for a girl to stick to her plan," I almost lunge across the sofa and kiss her.

I ruffle my hair to rein in my impulses. With a chuckle, I say, "I'm just being as truthful as possible."

"It's refreshing. I like it," she whispers. She glances out the window. "It's getting late. Maybe I can give you a quick lesson before I head home. Sound good?"

She's also good at changing the subject. "Sounds good. Show me what to do so I can line up another career."

Lottie laughs again and stands, leaving me wondering if all she really needs is someone to show her she's worth fighting for.