“What are you getting?” Cameron asks. His lips are right next to my ear, his arm still around my waist.
“Uh… a pretzel,” I say lamely. I’ve never been speechless in front of a man before. My dad is Easton Monroe. He was the starting first baseman for the Tennessee Blaze the majority of my life. I’ve met a lot of famous athletes—very attractive famous athletes—and I’ve never had this reaction before. I’ve never been breathless, with sweaty palms and the inability to speak coherently.
“Cheese or mustard?” Cameron asks. If he senses my inability to act like a normal human being around him, he doesn’t show it.
“Both.”
“My kinda girl,” he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. I don’t dare look to test my theory. Instead, I stare straight ahead and focus on my breathing. He’s just a guy. A ridiculously sexy guy.
“Next!” the concession stand attendant calls.
“Hi,” Cameron greets her. “We need two soft pretzels, with both cheese and mustard, a box of Cracker Jacks, a bottle of water, a large Coke, and Paisley?” He peers down at me. “What do you want to drink?”
“Gatorade. Blue.”
He nods. “And one blue Gatorade.” He releases his hold on me, allowing me to close my eyes and pull in a deep breath. When I open them, he’s passing money to the attendant.
“Cameron, no.” I place my hand on his arm. “You don’t have to do that.”
He smiles at me. “I wanted to. What kind of guy am I if I don’t pay for a beautiful woman’s snacks?” He winks and turns back to accept his change.
“Thank you,” I mumble as he hands me my Gatorade and Willow’s Coke.
“Ready?” he asks.
All I can do is nod and follow along behind him. When we reach the steps, he moves to the side and motions for me to go ahead of him. I do, not because he told me to, but because I need my seat. Any other time, it would be for fear of missing the game. Today, however, it’s because of the man walking along behind me, making my knees weak.
Chapter 2
Cameron
Is there anything hotter than a woman who loves baseball? The answer is no. A few hours ago, I wouldn’t have been able to answer that question. However, sitting next to Paisley during the Blaze game has me definite in my answer.
She doesn’t just love the game. She gets it.
She understands the plays, the calls, and she’s not invested because she’s hoping to land a player. You can see it in her eyes. She truly loves the sport. Luck was on my side today when I was seated next to her. I make a mental note to thank the front office for the connection. Not the seat, but my seatmate.
“Time for some nachos,” Willow announces as she stands and stretches. She’s cute, but she’s not Paisley. “Anyone want anything?”
“I’m good. Thanks, though,” I tell her.
“P?” she asks.
“Popcorn,” she says, reaching into her purse for money.
“You got the last round.”
“Actually, it was Cameron.”
Willow grins. “Interesting.” She smiles at her friend before turning her gaze on me. “Thank you, Cameron. Are you sure I can’t get you anything?”
Your friend’s number? “Nah, I’m good. Thanks.”
“You two kids behave.” Willow points at each of us with a sassy grin before rushing up the steps.
“Damn,” Paisley mutters as Marty Harris gets struck out. “We needed that hit,” she mumbles.
I missed it because I was looking at her. How can I not? Her hair is pulled up in some kind of knot sticking out the back of her Blaze hat. She has on short cutoffs and a Blaze tank top. Her feet are in flip-flops, and her toes are painted a bright pink. She’s understatedly sexy, and I’m having a hard time concentrating on anything but her.
I love baseball. I have since I was a toddler. I live for the game. No woman has ever been able to pull my attention from the game, well, unless you count my mom. I’m man enough to admit I’m a momma’s boy. I have a soft spot where she’s concerned. But she’s the only one.
Until today.
Until Paisley.
“I’ve never seen you here before,” she comments, never taking her eyes off the field. That’s fine because that allows me to not take mine off her.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve watched a game from the stands.”
She slowly turns her head to look at me. Her eyes are now covered with sunglasses, but that’s okay. I already have their dark brown color memorized. The color reminds me of my old baseball glove. “It’s been a while for me too,” she admits.
I want to ask her why, but Willow appears next to her friend, handing over her popcorn. “Thanks, Wil,” Paisley says, taking the offered snack.
That’s something else. She’s not one of those women who are afraid to eat in front of the opposite sex. She’s enjoying her snacks, and I never realized how much of a turn-on that could be. A woman who is unapologetically who she wants to be. It’s endearing and sexy as fuck.
Glancing at the scoreboard, I see we’re already in the sixth inning, and I will time to slow down. Not just because of my love of the game, it’s the company as well. I haven’t had the chance to find out all I need to know about her. Where is she from? What does she do? Does she have a boyfriend? There’s no ring on her finger, and I’d like to think any man with a brain who would be lucky enough to call this woman his would be right here by her side. I know I would be.
“So, Cameron, do you have any cute friends?” Willow asks before shoving a chip into her mouth.
“I feel like this is a trick question.” I laugh.
“Nope. I’m just not looking forward to being the third wheel.”
“Willow!” Paisley hisses.
Willow shrugs. “I’m just saying, P.” She’s not the least bit sorry for her words.
“I have lots of friends.” I’m already mentally scrolling through which of the guys I could set up with Willow. Talk about putting the cart before the horse.
She points at the field. “Do they look like that in baseball pants?” She wags her eyebrows.
“I don’t really make it a habit to check out my friends’ asses.”
“Fair point,” she agrees. “What about this? Do the ladies flock to them?”
“You could say that.”
“Perfect. I’ll take one of those, please.” She wags her eyebrows again before shoving another chip into her mouth.
Paisley turns to face me. “I’m sorry. She’s lost her mind apparently,” she mumbles.
“I don’t know. I think her idea has merit.” I give her my most charming smile. The one my mom claims could charm any woman with a pulse. I’m leaning into her, and if I’m not mistaken, her posture shifts to lean in just a little closer to me as well.
“I’m sure you’re busy doing… whatever it is that you do.”
I should tell her what I do, but I like the mystery. Sitting next to Paisley has been the most fun I’ve had with a woman in longer than I can remember. “I can make the time,” I assure her.