Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 30889 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 154(@200wpm)___ 124(@250wpm)___ 103(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30889 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 154(@200wpm)___ 124(@250wpm)___ 103(@300wpm)
Now I can’t decline without looking ungrateful. “Okay. Sure,” I say, but my biggest concern isn’t actually appearances; it’s being in the same space with someone I’m too attracted to.
Derek waits as I change into my street clothes while one of the clubhouse attendants fetches my suitcases from storage. We walk in silence out of the clubhouse, down the long hallway to the players’ parking lot.
He pops the hatch of his truck. I load my suitcases, grateful for the momentary respite from awkwardness. This is only temporary. Even if being near him is bringing back memories in flashes: The way his knee brushed mine during that short Uber ride. The way he kissed me against his front door. And the way I walked home in a daze after, my lips stinging, wondering if I made a mistake hooking up with him. Wondering if I made a mistake by taking off too soon.
“You all set?” he calls from the front seat. Because of course I’ve spent a solid minute arranging suitcases. I’m not avoiding him. I just…don’t want to have a conversation either.
“Yeah.” I close the hatch. This is temporary. It’s just a spare room. Be cool, Chason. Ha. Like it’s that easy.
The drive to South Lake Union on the waterfront is mercifully short. Derek plays tour guide as night falls, pointing out trendy restaurants, music clubs I doubt I’d ever go to, and, of course, too many coffee shops to count. All artisan, naturally. But he’s impersonal, like he might be with an out-of-town guest he barely knows. Except he glances over a few times, probably when he thinks I’m not looking.
I’m looking. I’m keenly aware of the space we occupy.
Eventually, we arrive at his condo, in a high-rise overlooking Lake Union. He insists on helping with one of my suitcases, which he parks in the front hallway. The place looks like most big leaguers’ condos: clean and slightly sterile, with framed memorabilia on the walls. A dining room that looks barely used and a living room that looks much more lived in, centered on a massive entertainment center. I catch my reflection in the TV screen. At least I’m hiding how weird I think this whole situation is, even if he probably feels the same way.
I look around, hoping to find something to talk about—a family photo maybe. But there’s nothing like that except pictures of various teams and tournaments. Derek, with his arms around other players, smiling in victory.
Except—
“Who’s this?” I ask, trying not to coo and failing. Because the picture on his end table is of a kid recognizable as a young Derek with his arms around a fluffy, golden-furred dog.
Derek offers a real smile for the first time since Bautista volunteered a spare room. “Oh, that’s Ultimate. She was my dog growing up.”
“She looks like a sweetheart.”
“Yeah”—his voice goes a little wistful—“she really was.”
I pick up the picture, studying the pup. “Mutt? A little golden, a little lab, a little something else?”
Another smile. “Hence the name Ultimate. Ultimate mutt.”
“Did you pick her name?”
“I did,” he says, chest puffing up.
“That’s a good name,” I remark as I set down the photo.
“Thanks, Chason. I was hoping you’d approve,” he deadpans. Finally, we’re back to an easy rhythm. Like the night of the fundraiser.
So I stay there, on that frequency. I like this frequency. “It’s kind of funny. I was hoping there were going to be dogs at the casino thing. You know, to hang out with,” I say. “Since it was for a dog rescue.”
“You were hoping to play poker with a dog?”
I laugh. “Sure. If any played. Or just to talk to.”
He nods faux-thoughtfully. “So was I better company than a dog?”
I shrug, since I’m not giving in that easily. Besides, he won’t want me too. “You’re aiming pretty high, Miller.”
He rolls his eyes. “Pretty sure I hit the mark.”
No doubt. “I mean, sure,” I say, like I’m not giving an inch. “I suppose.”
“I didn’t hear any complaints,” he says, maybe fishing for compliments. This is another side of him I’m learning. At the fundraiser, he was all edges and cocksure attitude. Then at his place, he was playful and pushy. Now, he’s…interested.
Same here, but that’s risky. “Fair enough. You worked out okay,” I tease.
Derek gestures like he’s spinning something with his hand.
I raise my eyebrows in question.
“The picture of Adam Chason is filling in now. You went to the party to talk to a dog, but then you found me.”
Come to think of it, that’s exactly what I did. I found him at the party, flirted with him, went home with him. Now, here I am again, in his house, sliding right back into the way we were that night. A little teasing, a little pushing.
“You were decent enough company,” I joke.
Derek tosses his head back, laughing, like he can’t believe I said that. “Why am I letting you stay here?”