Perfect for You: A Blind Date Sports Small Town Romance (Annapolis Harbor Book 3)

by Lea Coll

  I wanted to know what he thought of me. I hadn’t anticipated the attraction flowing through my veins, hot and heavy. Did he feel it too?

  “I’m glad you’re the one who’s here.”

  He arched a brow, leaning back in his chair to consider me. “Why is that?”

  “You’re interesting. You’re a bit of an enigma. You don’t grant many interviews. You’re a man of few words.”

  His gaze was steady on mine. “If you don’t watch football how do you know all of that?”

  “I looked you up online.” I shifted in my seat, hoping he never found out I requested him tonight.

  His shoulders relaxed slightly, his lips tipped into a smile. “I’m at a disadvantage because I don’t know anything about you.”

  I was certain the team had done a background check on me, but otherwise he was probably being honest. “Like I said, I bid on the date because I wanted to support Kids Speak. It’s such a great organization. Do you do much charity work?”

  He looked away before his gaze returned to mine. “Honestly? I don’t. I’m focused on football. Lena insisted I come.”

  I hid the disappointment that he didn’t want to be here. “Why is that?”

  “I don’t like the attention.” He looked at the window.

  He was a professional player, famous at least in this city. He should have erected a wall between us. Instead, he’d given me honesty, a glimpse into him.

  It made me want to know more about him. Why was he so private? “I would think that would be a requirement for your job.”

  His jaw tightened. “I want to play football, collect a paycheck, and live my life away from the media.”

  “That’s understandable.”

  The way he held his shoulders stiff, his eyes narrowed on me, felt like a warning.

  He probably wouldn’t be amenable to my desire for him to be the spokesman.

  The waitress paused at the edge of the table. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “Water please.” I needed to be sharp for this evening. I thought it would be easier. He’d be an egotistical player. I’d flatter him, promise him positive media attention in return for his name, a few occasional appearances. Instead, I wanted to know why he craved privacy, why his eyes were haunted.

  “Same.” Reid’s eyes never left mine as the waitress turned to leave. “Do you want something?”

  I swallowed to cover the dryness in my throat. Suddenly, I wanted something else like his calloused hands on my skin, his lips on my neck. “Why do I have to want something?”

  He flipped his hand in the air. “They all do.”

  Guilt seeped through my skin, making me itchy and uncomfortable. He cut to the chase. I would too. “I was hoping to meet a professional athlete who could help me with Kids Speak.”

  “Why?” His elbows rested on the table, his chin in his hands.

  I couldn’t get a read on whether he was merely being polite or he was genuinely interested. “I work with the organization that hosted the silent auction for the blind date—Kids Speak. The founder, Hadley Winter, created the organization to help kids like her brother, Colin, who had a stutter growing up.”

  “Colin is a college baseball player. It was his idea to have athletes work with the kids. The program has been successful in New Orleans. We want to expand into Annapolis. It takes a lot of money to run a nonprofit. We’re hoping the association with professional athletes will bring more awareness, more funds.”

  “You want money.” He tilted his head as if he’d figured me out. He wasn’t disappointed. It was like he was confirming his suspicions.

  I flushed, not used to someone being so blunt. “No. We’d like athletes to mentor the kids, meet with them after school, talk to them, maybe throw a football. Some of these kids are embarrassed by their speech. They have low self-esteem. We’re hoping to build their confidence.”

  He cringed before he caught himself, smoothing his expression. “You said it’s been successful?”

  “We do everything in our power to get them the services they need to minimize if not eliminate their speech impairment. Then we build their confidence through sports. Colin identifies with him because he had a speech impediment. One of his mentees is on the debate team now.”

  “Ready to order?” The waitress stood next to the table, a pen and pad ready.

  I sighed, frustrated at the interruption. I hadn’t had a chance to look at the menu during our conversation. I quickly scanned it.

  After placing our orders, Reid considering me, the silence deafening.

  I resisted my natural instinct to fill the space with small talk.

  “Tell me something about you.” His tone was soft.

  I’d hoped to pick up where we’d left off, maybe giving me an idea of his thoughts on Kids Speak. “I grew up close to Annapolis. I went to a private school, then college and law school locally.”

  He arched his brow.

  I was used to the respect I received when I mentioned my profession. I was proudest of my charity work. “I recently opened a general practice law firm with three friends.”

  “That’s—” he paused, “commendable for someone—so young.”

  “Thank you.”

  “What you do is impressive.” I’d researched everything I could on him. The only thing available was his football success. Little was mentioned about his family. My parents were intensely private outside of their business and charity functions. It made me wonder if Reid was in a similar situation.

  His eyes narrowed. “I don’t want anything we discuss to end up on social media.”

  “I know you don’t trust me, but I have no intention of telling anyone what you’ve told me.”

  The waitress set our plates in front of us asking whether we needed anything else. When I shook my head, she left.

  He cut his steak, putting a large piece in his mouth. Was that to avoid conversation or was I being paranoid? Maybe it was a mistake to orchestrate this dinner. I was at a loss as to what to say now that he’d shut down any conversation about him.

  We ate in silence for a few minutes while I contemplated the best course of action.

  After a few minutes, he said, “A few guys on the team might want to help you.”

  I put my fork down, keeping my gaze down so he wouldn’t see my disappointment that he wasn’t volunteering to help. It shouldn’t matter if I got a connection to the football team. “Are you serious?”

  “I’d like to look into it more, maybe talk to—”

  “Hadley? That can be arranged.”

  He nodded.

  “I’m happy to answer any questions you have.” I wanted to tell him why the organization was personal, but my mom was adamant I not tell anyone about her situation.

  “You have my assistant Callie’s cell. She’ll help you.”

  My heart pinched. Something about this evening, the depth of his eyes, the careful way he spoke wrapped around my heart. Now he was distancing himself. I couldn’t blame him. I’d come here to ask for help and he was offering it.

  Reid finished his food, pushing his plate slightly back. “Did you get what you needed?”

  I studied his handsome face. He was forced to be here because of his front office. I’d detected something else the minute his eyes rested on mine, a flicker of interest in me as a woman before I’d ruined everything with what I needed from him.

  If this was a real date, I’d talk about myself, ask him questions to show I was interested. But it wasn’t. I’d bid for this time with him. The time, date, and location were set up through his assistant.

  I’d gotten what I wanted. That was all that should matter. If there was something between us it was gone now, snuffed out with my request for help.

  “Yes. Having a few players volunteer will be amazing for Kids Speak. It will solidify our position. Hopefully bringing in more money so we don’t have to spend as much time fundraising. It will be amazing for the kids too. Instead of being embarrassed by their sp
eech, I hope they’ll feel special that professional athletes would take time to meet with them. Thank you.” I barely refrained from cringing at my professional-sounding speech.

  He nodded, his face carefully stoic. “Good.”

  I should have taken a more personal angle.

  I should have been happy but there was a hollow feeling in my chest. I wanted to reach my hand out to him, ask him to stay, tell him more about myself. I didn’t.

  He reached for the bill.

  I opened my clutch. “I can pay. This was a business dinner.”

  He placed his credit card in the billfold, resting it at the end of the table. “No. I got it.”

  I wanted to argue with him, insist that I pay at least for my half. I didn’t. I sensed it was a source of pride for him to pay for a woman’s dinner. I liked it.

  “Thank you for this evening. It was nice meeting you.” I couldn’t say it was nice to get to know him, because I didn’t know him any better than the moment he walked in. A pang of regret shot through me that it was a missed opportunity to make a personal connection with him.

  Everything I knew was contained in articles that revealed next to nothing about the man who was Reid Everson, where he came from, how he got here, what motivated him, why he was so private.

  When the waitress returned his card, he signed it with a flourish, tucking his card in his wallet. He rose to leave.

  “Nice meeting you, Dylan. Good luck with Kids Speak.”

  I rose from my seat. Any hope he would walk me outside so we’d have a few more minutes together vanished. He’d fulfilled his obligation, accepting my request to talk to the team. I’d probably never see him again. “Thank you so much. If you change your mind about volunteering with Kids Speak, let me know.”

  He nodded curtly.

  I knew he wouldn’t.

  Then he left me standing next to the table. The usual surge of success when I landed an investor or crushed a meeting wasn’t there. My stomach was hollow, my throat tight.

  I grabbed my clutch, wound my way through the tables, out into the night. I imagined if we were on a date, we’d walk along the Baltimore Harbor in the evening, remarking on the stars in the sky, the beauty of the moon reflecting on the water. Instead, I headed to the valet stand, waited for my car, then drove home to Annapolis.

  I couldn’t wait to tell Avery and Hadley I was successful. Things were looking up for Kids Speak and our law firm. I pushed any thoughts of what would have happened had I never brought up Kids Speak. If I told him about my family, my life, would he have opened up to me? Would he have asked to see me again?

  Unfortunately, I’d ruined any chance of that. If Reid Everson was interested in me as a woman, he wasn’t anymore. I was one more person who used him for something he could provide.

  Chapter Four

  REID

  I drove through Inner Harbor, the touristy area of Baltimore, to get to my condo building in Harbor East, the trendy area younger players lived for its proximity to restaurants, bars, and nightlife. I greeted the security guard at the gate to the underground parking, taking the elevator to the twentieth floor to my three-bedroom condo. I dropped my keys in the dish on the table by the door, toeing out of my shoes.

  I left the lights off to look at the view of the city lights reflected on the water. I sank into the deep leather cushions of my couch. Tonight, I’d expected to meet a woman who wanted to hook up with a player or a diehard fan who’d want an autograph. Nothing prepared me for Dylan Gannon. Her honey-colored hair fell in waves down her back, the red gown wrapped tightly around her curves, emphasizing her breasts. I’d felt drawn to her as if there was an invisible line pulling me to her.

  Sitting across from her, my skin hot under my collar, my heart beat rapidly in my chest, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d gone out on a date with a woman.

  She made me nervous, making it harder to avoid words with r in them. I’d cleared my throat when I realized I’d used the word you’re and dropped my voice on the word chaser. Thankfully, she’d snorted, her embarrassment taking the heat off of me. Being around someone like her, someone I was attracted to, made a slipup more likely.

  When she admitted she wanted to discuss her nonprofit I was almost relieved. She didn’t want me. She wasn’t a threat to my solitary existence. I could help her. Lena and Callie would be pleased.

  During our discussion, I resisted the urge to tell her more about myself. As beautiful as she was, as intent on me as she seemed, it was because she wanted what I could do for her. She didn’t want Reid Everson, the man.

  I’d pass her information onto the team, forgetting about Dylan Gannon. She’d admitted she didn’t chase men. She didn’t need to. She was magnetic, the kind of person you wanted to stand near to feel the warmth of her gaze, the sound of her laughter, and maybe if I was lucky, her hand on my arm.

  Given the way she held herself, she was the kind of woman who cared about appearances, who probably thrived on the limelight.

  Since my dad left, my goal was to protect my family, to earn enough money so that we’d never have to worry again. Being in the league for a few years, I’d made enough money to secure my future. I’d shifted my expectations this year to renewing my contract with Baltimore, solidifying myself as a franchise player.

  My phone lit up with a call from Callie.

  I hit answer. “Hey.”

  “You’re home already?” She sounded surprised.

  “You must have thought I would be, or you wouldn’t be calling.”

  Callie sighed. “I hoped you’d like her.”

  I scoffed. “You thought I’d like a woman who won a date with a player? She could have been a crazed fan.”

  Callie was quiet for a few seconds. “She wasn’t, was she?”

  Her tone was knowing as if she had some idea who Dylan was. “Am I missing something?”

  Not answering my question, she said, “How did it go?”

  I should have said Dylan was a fan so Callie would let this go. “She wants us to support her nonprofit, Kids Speak. They provide speech services to kids in schools.”

  “She mentioned that to me.” Callie’s tone was cautious as if she was worried about my reaction.

  “You didn’t think to warn me?” She knew I liked to be prepared as much as possible when I went into a publicity event or a press conference.

  “I didn’t think I’d need to. It’s a great cause. I thought you’d be interested.”

  Dylan was so earnest, passionate about it, I couldn’t help being mesmerized when she spoke about Kids Speak, her hands flying in time with her words. As much as I admired what she was trying to do, it probably wasn’t a good idea for me to be involved. "I told her I was sure a few other players would be interested.”

  “You should do it.” Callie’s response was immediate.

  Irritation shot through me. “You know I don’t want people to know.”

  Callie knew because she was around me all the time. I tried to watch what I said, but I slipped a few times. She’d finally asked me about it. Coming clean with her wasn’t as awful as I thought it would be. She’d been nothing but supportive.

  It was nice letting my guard down around someone else besides my family.

  “Why would it be so bad? I think people would sympathize with you. Remember that basketball player, what was his name?” I couldn’t see Callie through the phone but I could see her as if she was standing next to me, her hands on her hips. “It’ll come to me. He came out, saying he had severe anxiety before games. Not even his teammates knew about it. Everyone was surprised because he was so good at hiding it.”

  “Kevin Love.” I was aware he’d come out a couple of years ago. Everyone was shocked, including me. I kept waiting for the fall out. It never came.

  I heard the snap of her fingers through the phone.

  “Yes. Kevin Love. That’s who I was thinking of. Let me see what he said, hold on.” Her voice trailed off as if she’d pulled the phone away from h
er mouth to look at it.

  I waited while she scrolled, knowing I wasn’t going to like what he had to say.

  “Nothing haunts you like the things you don’t say.”

  The hair on the back of my neck stood up. I rubbed my hand over the spot, squeezing it. I was haunted by many things surrounding my speech. The worst was what I had said, not what I hadn’t.

  “Why can’t you be straight with your fans?” Callie’s voice was quiet.

  “You know why. I don’t want to be one of those players who makes the news more for his personal life than his work on the field.”

  “That wouldn’t happen. I know it’s a big deal to you. I don’t think other people will think anything of it. They might even think it’s cool you’re coming out about it, trying to help other people.”

  What she was saying sounded reasonable, but I couldn’t take that risk. “You know what happened in college. I’d get nervous during press conferences, screwing up some words. People said I was drunk or on drugs. They won’t believe it’s a speech impediment. If they do believe it, they’ll want to know why I wasn’t treated for it.”

  “Why weren’t you?” Her question was gentle, sympathetic, not accusatory, not like how trolls online would be.

  Usually, I shut her down before she could ask this question. Memories of my dad yelling came back to me, fast and furious. His words. The shame that came with them. What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you stupid? You sound like a baby. “My dad was hard on me. My mom was afraid to seek help because he didn’t think it was a speech problem. When he left us, she’d tried to get services. Apparently, I didn’t qualify through the county or school. She couldn’t afford private therapy. I didn’t want her to feel bad, so I avoided saying r’s around her.”

  “You had to be strong.”

  “Yes.” I still had to be strong, putting on a front, not letting anyone in.

  “Which is why Kids Speak is perfect for you.”