Chapter 8

JOEY

Ifreeze, the hand holding Lynn's going cold as her words register.

Did she just say she's underage?

But wait, she told me she was studying for her PhD—and she saved a guy's life like a seasoned pro. I pegged her for twenty-four at the very youngest! What is going on here?

Was she playing me? It certainly wouldn't be the first time.

She must read my expression perfectly because she drops my hand and holds her head in both her hands. Her movement, unfortunately, shifts the neckline of her sundress, giving me a view right down the front. Fuck! I'm a complete pervert!

"Oh my god, I'm not a minor!" she barks out loud enough that a passing couple glances over to check us out. Shit! When she realizes we've drawn attention, she lowers her voice to almost a whisper and says, "I'm twenty."

"Lynn, I…" I trail off because I still don't know what to say. Yeah, that's better than, say, eighteen, but she's twenty years old, and I'm on the verge of twenty-nine. That's not okay. She was a teenager less than a year ago!

"It's really no big deal." Her voice has a slight edge of annoyance now, and I still can't figure out how we ended up here.

"You said you're studying for a PhD." I finally get out a full sentence, my defensiveness audible.

"I am." Her lips firm into a rigid line. I'm pissing her off, but this is serious to me. I need to watch my every step with the league—and with my own moral code of conduct.

I take a step back and prop my hands on my hips. "So you're a child genius or something? You skipped five grades?"

She mimics my stance. "No, I'm in the undergrad Sports Science and Kinesiology program that feeds into the PhD Physical Therapy program. There is no bachelor's or master's degree in physical therapy."

"Oh." Okay, so maybe I reacted a little harshly, but… "I'm twenty-eight, Lynn. And you're twenty."

"And?"

"And that's kind of a big deal."

She throws her hands up. "And last I checked, this was a first date. Nothing is supposed to be a big deal on a first date."

She has a point. But, damn, I really like this woman. I've never felt an immediate spark like this with anyone. It feels like our tenth date instead of our first. And she's twenty years old, hardly more than a girl. I'm at a complete loss.

"Well, well, well!" A booming voice catches our attention, and I look over to see Paulie closing in on us, José not far behind. Of all the luck.

"Crap," Lynn curses, her face losing color. She opens her mouth to speak again but closes it as her eyes catch on Paulie's hand descending onto my shoulder. This is so not good.

"Our boy has good follow-through," Paulie bellows gleefully just as José catches up and grabs his arm.

"Come on, Paulie, leave the nice people alone." He doesn't try hiding the urgency in his tone. What the hell is Paulie thinking? As far as he knows, Lynn isn't even aware I'm a ballplayer, much less his friend.

"Do you… know each other?" Lynn asks, her dark eyebrows scrunching together.

"No!" José tries saving me, but Paulie is still oblivious. And loud.

"Know each other? We're on the same team. Don't you watch baseball, sweetheart?"

Lynn's chin snaps back so fast, I'd be unsurprised if she sustained a whiplash injury. "Sweetheart?"

"He's had a few drinks." José tries laughing it off as he jerks on Paulie's arm again, but the idiot stays rooted to the gravel of the parking lot.

"He's your teammate?" Lynn eyes me, looking like she just smelled a dog turd.

"Unfortunately," I mutter under my breath, but Paulie interjects once again.

"Okay, you don't like ‘sweetheart,' I get it. But I didn't catch your name last night when you made me lose that bet."

Fuck! Another look Lynn's way shows eyes now filled with equal parts fire and ice.

"Bet? What bet?" she demands through clenched teeth, and I swear she grows three inches in height with her anger.

I shake Paulie off and move closer, in full panic mode now. "It's not what you think. I promise."

But Paulie is only too eager to answer her question as he, too, shifts closer, evading José's grip. "José here said I couldn't get you to go out with me without telling you I'm a pro ballplayer."

"Yup, and that's the end of the story. Time to go now! Nice to meet you!" José yanks hard on Paulie's arm, sending him stumbling sideways. He uses his temporary imbalance to steer him away from us and back to the sidewalk, but not before Paulie succeeds in fucking me over with a few last words thrown over his shoulder.

"You won fair and square, Martel! Enjoy the spoils!"

Lynn stares at me, eyes wide, cheeks flushed, and her silky lips dropped open. "I was a bet?"

"No! It wasn't like that." I reach out to, I don't know, take her hand or squeeze her shoulder—anything so she'll listen to me. But she sidesteps my hand and puts several feet of distance between us.

"So you're saying that Paulie guy was lying?"

"Yes. No. Okay, you were part of a bet, but I didn't make the bet!" I'm desperate for her to believe me and understand what's going on here. But what is going on here? She's too young for me. This is wrong. But at the same time, I've never had this level of instantaneous and fundamental connection with anyone in my life. It can't just end like this.

But that's apparently not my choice to make.

Lynn digs in her purse and pulls out a set of car keys. "Are you being serious right now? You get all bent out of shape because I'm younger than you thought I was, but you and your juvenile jock friends made a bet to see who could fuck me first?" She stalks to an old beat-up Mazda a couple spots away, and I follow.

"No! That wasn't the bet! And it wasn't even me!"

She whirls around at the driver's door, her dark hair wild around her face and her chest heaving. She looks like a goddess. A vengeful one, but gorgeous and vibrant all the same. "Does it really matter?! Everything is a joke or a contest or a comparison of dick size to guys like you. You strut around in your toxic testosterone club and treat women with no respect at all. Believe me, I get enough of this shit from my brothers, I don't need it on a date too." She yanks the door open and drops into the seat. "Have a nice life, Joey whoever the hell you are."

Her door shuts with a loud screech and a bang, and I step back so I don't get run over as she peels out of the parking lot—and out of my life.

And she's right. Fuck. She was one hundred percent right about what she said, and I am a complete and utter douchebag.

Fuck my life.

* * *

I sensemovement in my peripheral vision and glance over to see Gunner Nix's lips move as he sinks down into the empty seat next to mine on the team plane. I guess the headphones covering my ears didn't sufficiently project my desire to be left alone. Confirming his intentions, Gunner yanks the headphones from my head and drops them in my lap.

"Do you want me to sic Skye and Elizabeth on Paulie?" he asks.

Goddammit. Does every-fucking-body know what happened?

Gunner answers my unspoken question, his voice low enough so nobody else seated around us can hear. "José told me what happened. I told him to keep it under wraps."

Thank God for that, at least.

"I'm fine," I lie. I just want to get to Chicago and kick some ass.

"On a scale of one to ten, how mad is Lynn?"

I narrow my eyes at my friend. "You ever seen Godzilla vs. Kong?"

Gunner's eyebrows almost connect with his close-cropped hair. "Which one is she in this scenario?"

"Mechagodzilla."

"Eesh." He winces and scratches his beard. "Was it the bet, or had you still not told her about your job?"

"The bet." I shake my head. "But I didn't do myself any favors by freaking out about her age right before Paulie showed up."

"Why? How old is she?"

"Twenty."

He rocks his head back and forth as if weighing the information. "What kind of twenty?"

"What do you mean?"

He shrugs. "Head in the clouds, drama queen twenty? Or solid head on her shoulders, more mature twenty?"

Damn. "Definitely the latter. Man, the reason I cock-blocked Riley is that I'd already met her last week. She works concessions at Ardent Park. Remember when I was late and Coach read me the riot act?"

"Yeah." Everybody heard me tell Coach about my flat and an emergency in the stadium, but I didn't go into detail.

"Lynn gave CPR to this guy who had a heart attack right in front of us. She saved his life like she was just filling a drink order and then went right back to work like nothing happened. I felt like I needed a shot and a nap, and all I did was watch."

"Seriously? That's pure clutch, man." He runs a hand over his buzzed head. "So I think it's safe to say her age is just a number, yeah?"

Double damn. "Yeah. But I fucked it up."

He claps my shoulder. "Women get mad. Just ask Lizzie. She gets mad at me all the time, but she always forgives me in the end. Call Lynn and say you're sorry. Hell, I'll talk to her and tell her that stupid bet wasn't your idea."

I don't respond, mostly because I have no clue what to say. I dug my own grave.

Drew, our first baseman, pokes his head over one of the seats in front of us. "Yo, Nix. Can you send me that audiobook you were talking about?"

I take the opportunity to retreat into my head again, replacing my headphones and pressing play for the tenth time on Counting Crows's "Round Here," and promising myself it will be the last time I listen to this song.

Three minutes later, I hit play again.