by Gina Drayer
“And you, sir?” the waitress asked, expectantly.
I hadn’t looked over the menu yet. I’d just been staring at Emily this whole time like an idiot. Quickly, I glanced down at my menu and picked the first thing I saw. “I’ll have the lamb.”
“Excellent choice,” the waitress said and jotted down our orders. She gave us a curt nod and scurried on her way, leaving us alone once again.
“I thought you were going to order the pork bellies. Isn’t that why we came here?” she said, her expression going flat again now that they were alone.
I shrugged and leaned back in my chair. “I forgot how much I love a good leg of lamb. You should try them.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“So since we’re stuck here, you might as well tell me about yourself.” I reached across the table for her hands, but she pulled away at my touch. Her icy reception wasn’t going to put me off. I was going to make this work one way or another.
“I’m serious. I want to know more. Why a homeless shelter?”
“I just had to help,” she said without hesitation. “There aren’t a lot of safety nets left out there to help families as a whole, and it’s the kids that suffer the most. The family shelter is a labor of love.”
Her face lit up as she talked and I could see the passion. She might be stuffy and not my type, but she was genuine. It was actually a nice change.
“When I turned eighteen, I came into a lot of money, but I didn’t want to be just another rich girl that didn’t contribute anything meaningful to society. I wanted to do something good—something that made a real difference. Deep down I think most people want to help. They just don’t know what to do, so they do nothing.”
“Yeah, I guess,” I said and looked away, rubbing the back of my neck.
She wasn’t exactly calling me a selfish bastard for making millions, but it was pretty close. I didn’t fault her for wanting to give back. I actually understood that need to help people. Hell, I donated thousands of dollars every year to various causes. And that money made a difference—every charity I wrote a big check to told me so. But somehow, I doubted she’d see it the same way.
Another thick silence fell over the table. She fiddled with the napkin and wouldn’t look at me. No one in their right mind was going to believe we’d made some kind of love connection. We had to have something in common. I couldn’t spend another four or more dates with this woman if we couldn’t even talk to each other.
“Tell me, if you weren’t running the shelter, what would you be doing?”
“You don’t get it,” she said with a shake of her head. “There’s nothing else I’d rather be doing. For as long as I can remember, I’ve always wanted to give back. Even when I was a too young to understand, I gravitated towards helping other people. My life came into sharp focus when I was in my teens, and I knew I wanted to help families.”
“Then I guess we share one thing in common. For as far back as I can remember, all I’ve ever wanted to do was play ball.” I sat back a little, ready to launch into a story about growing up and knowing without a shadow of a doubt that I was going to grow up to play professional baseball. I’d told this story to countless women, and they had all lapped it up. Women liked intimate details. They thought it was a way to connect with me.
But just as I started in on my story, Emily cut me off.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s not the same. Being passionate about what you’re doing with your life and being called to serve other people are two very different things. I really doubt we have anything at all in common.”
Fuck. This was going downhill fast. Her body language screamed that she’d rather be anywhere but here.
“Fine. Our jobs are very different. But we have to have something in common. Do you have any hobbies? Interests? Secret desires I can fulfill?” I asked in a low seductive tone.
The question was meant to lighten the mood. I’ve used that line on several other women, and it always worked. But Emily wasn’t other women.
Luckily, the food came and saved me from having to take a stab at starting up another civil conversation with her. After a few bites, I made one last ditch effort to make this work.
“I know we got off on the wrong foot and you don’t want to be here. I was a prick for implying that the money I donated gave me the right to sexual favors. I’m sorry. Can we just start over? We have four more of these to do, and you’ve got to work with me.” She opened her mouth—most likely to argue—but I quickly amended my statement to soften my words. “I’ll keep things PG, and I promise not to steal you away to some secluded place and make any unwanted advances. And if you really can’t stand me, you can pretend you’re on a date with someone else—someone you actually like. I can do a pretty mean Rock impression.”
“You’re right,” she said with a sigh. “I can do this.”
She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, just like the yoga instructor had instructed me to do. When she opened her eyes again, the sour look was gone, and a whisper of a smile teased at the corner of her lips.
“To answer your questions. I’m crafty. I like to make things. I have tons of interests outside of work. And no, thank you. I’m good with all my desires. Do you think you can do an Australian accent for the rest of the night?”
“Australian accent?” The conversation had taken a sharp left turn and I was trying to connect the dots.
“I just thought that if you want me to pretend that you’re someone else, I’m voting for for Chris Hemsworth. He makes the long blonde hair thing work.”
She was so earnest I couldn’t help but laugh. That smile she’d been fighting broke free, and she started laughing too.
“I’m sorry. I don’t want to make this harder than it has to be. It’s just… This whole thing is weird,” she said, wiping a bit of wetness from her eyes. “What about you? Do you have any hobbies besides baseball?”
I raised my glass, which was half full of dark red Syrah. “I drink and charm the ladies.”
“I gathered as much from the newspapers,” she said, but her expression wasn’t hard and judgmental like before. Her eyes crinkled at the corners and those plump lips of hers fought a smile again.
We both went back to our meal, but now, the silence was just a comfortable pause in our new found truce. I cut into my lamb, disappointed it wasn’t pork belly when a low moan from the other side of the table caught my attention.
Emily focused on her plate, swirling her ravioli in the sauce before taking another bite. Her eyes closed with her fork still in her mouth and another low moan escaped her lips.
I made a mental note to thank my buddy for suggesting this place. I continued to watch, transfixed, as she pulled out the fork slowly, licking a stray bit of sauce from her lips—those perfect lips that taste like cherry lip gloss.
“Sounds like you’re enjoying yourself,” I said, unable to resist.
Her eyes popped open in surprise, as if just now realizing she wasn’t alone.
“Yes. I… um…” Bright red spots colored her cheeks, and while she struggled to find words, three kids approached the table.
“Are you Cooper Reynolds?” The oldest boy asked. Before I could answer, the boy started jumping up and down, so excited he was shouting. “You are, you are! You’re Cooper Reynolds!”
“That’s me,” I said with a smile. “And who might you be? Let me guess, you’re a ballplayer too.”
“I’m Derek. This is my brother Danny, and my sister Necie.” As he spoke, the boy was holding his head with both hands as if his head might just explode.
“My name is Denise,” the little girl beside him said, hands on her hips. She couldn’t have been more than six years old but had more spunk than most girls twice her age.
“I play left field on my Little League team,” Derek said.
“I play third base like you!” Danny said, pumping his fists in the air.
“I am a catcher. That’s the best pos
ition. And I’m better than my brothers,” Denise said, which made Emily burst out laughing.
“Can we get a picture with you?” Danny asked, looking up at me with awestruck brown eyes. “My dad’s got a camera on his phone. He takes great pictures.” A tall man wearing thick-framed glasses was reaching out and shaking my hand.
“I’m sorry my kids are bothering you.”
“It’s okay,” Emily said before I could reply. “He likes the attention.”
“So can we get a photo?” the older boy asked.
“Please!” the others begged in unison.
I glanced over at Emily. The other night, she hated the attention and photos. I didn’t want to jeopardize the fragile peace we’d found by playing celebrity. But she was sitting back in her chair, watching with amusement.
“What do you think?” I asked.
All three kids turned her direction, waiting.
“I think a picture is a great idea,” she said, smiling at the group. He took a swig of water and popped a piece of gum from his pocket into his mouth.
The kids clapped as the dad pulled out his phone. “This is going up on the wall. Are you ready?”
I turned my chair around and placed an arm around each boy, while the little girl stood in front of her older brother.
I took several photos with the kids. We did a serious pose and then making silly faces at the camera. Then I posed with each kid individually. Emily sat at the table, watching us with interest. When I caught her pretty brown eyes, her smile widened. That look did something to me.
“Hey kids,” I said, leaning down. “What do you say we get my girlfriend in on the photos?”
“She’s your girlfriend?” asked the oldest boy, and he looked from me to Emily and then back at me.
“That’s what I’m aiming for.” I made a serious face and shot a look over my shoulder. “She’s holding my heart in her beautiful little hands.”
“Are you two going to get married?” Denise asked, giggling. The little girl gave me a toothy grin, her mouth stretching so widely her eyes all but disappeared.
“If she’s lucky,” I said in a loud whisper. I turned to Emily, hoping she’d play along. “Come over here with us, Em.”
She rolled her eyes but inched her chair towards mine. I huffed and pulled her off the chair onto my lap. Caught off guard by the sudden change in position, Emily tossed her arms around my neck to keep from falling.
The father snapped a few more pictures.
“Let’s do a funny face again!” Danny said.
“But we’ve already done funny faces,” Derek said.
“Not with the girl,” Danny insisted. He turned to Emily and tried to get her to back him up. “Can you make a fish face?”
“How’s this?” Emily said, sucking in her cheeks.
“Look at that. She’s an angelfish.” I set my chin on her shoulder and made my own fish face.
“Very funny,” Emily said, but she was laughing.
“Look at me!” Denise said. “I can be a fish, too.” The little girl put a hand on either side of her cheeks, fingers splayed wide and opened and closed her mouth.
“Very good,” Emily said. “You’re a fantastic fish!”
“Okay, one more picture,” the kid’s dad said. “Then we have to let the nice couple enjoy their date by themselves. So, make this one count.”
“Actually, I was wondering if you’d take one for me?” I held up my phone. “If you don’t mind.”
“I can do that.”
I handed over the phone and gave Emily a goofy grin. “All right, Em. Let’s make this one count.”
I pulled her back against my chest and planted a hard kiss on her plump lips just as the flash went off.
14
Emily
God, he kissed me. Again.
I'd been pissed when Cooper had pulled me onto his lap, but knowing that people were watching, I just went with it. But I hadn’t been expecting the kiss. Especially after his promised not to make any more advances.
I certainly didn’t want to kiss him again. Not after the last one that had caught me completely off guard. I’d already decided to skip the agreed upon kiss at the end of tonight’s date. I needed time to prepare myself for another one of his kisses.
As a matter of fact, I probably needed more time to prepare myself to just see him again. It had been nigh on impossible to ignore how sexy he looked tonight. The tight, hunter green shirt he wore brought out the green flecks in his eyes and was perfectly tailored to fit his wide frame. And the shape of his muscular biceps underneath the rolled up sleeves of his shirt. The same arms that were wrapped around my waist right now.
Being attracted to him was one thing—it was natural, he was gorgeous after all, but it was more than simple attraction. I was starting to like him. His needling comments still irritated me, but that stupid smirk of his when he teased me was kind of cute.
What was wrong with me?
I was only vaguely aware that our guests had returned to their own seats. I should have put an end to the kiss and let Cooper say goodbye to his young fans, but I didn’t want it to end.
The waitress cleared her throat behind us. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” she said. “I was just coming by to see if you were ready for dessert. Should I come back later?”
“Not at all,” said Cooper, reluctantly pulling away, but he was still holding me on his lap. “We would love dessert. Let’s get the chocolate soufflé, the carrot cake, and that lemon custard tart.”
The waitress laughed. “All three?” she said.
“All three,” said Cooper. He turned to me, his face so close to mine that all I’d have to do is lean in to kiss him again. “She’s right. How rude of me. Do you want something too?”
“So besides drinking, I take it, you really like dessert, too.” My voice was a little huskier than I’d intended. I was trying to make joke, but it sounded more like an invitation. I could still taste the cinnamon from his gum on my lips and had to resist the urge to lick them.
“I can’t resist sweet things,” he said in a low growl.
His eyes focused on my lips. That look set my nerves on overload and desire pooled in my center.
“I think I’ll have that glass of wine now.”
What was I doing? I was way out of my depth with this man. If I wasn’t careful, I was going to get hurt.
“Of course. Would you like the Syrah or something different?”
“Syrah will be fine,” I said and returned to my own chair.
That kiss was different than the one we shared at the auction. I looked up and caught Cooper staring at me. He seemed just as bewildered.
“You were great with those kids,” I said breaking the silence. “But you must be used to talking to fans all the time, right?”
“It’s my favorite part of the job,” he said. “I especially love meeting generations of fans. I love seeing a father pass down his love of the game to his kids.”
“I have some kids at the shelter that are huge fans of yours. They’d love to meet you, and I bet you’d have a really great time too. I don’t know much about baseball, but Mica, one of my favorite little guys, knows all these stats about each of his favorite players. He gave me the lowdown about you this weekend.”
“You spend the weekend at the shelter? With the kids? I didn’t realize you were that involved. I thought you just ran it, like on the board or something. Do you ever take time for yourself?”
Earlier tonight, I might have taken offense to his words, but something shifted over the last hour. I knew he wasn’t trying to be demeaning. Cooper was used to dating women that had goals like getting on the front cover of Sports Illustrated.
“Please don’t get pissed off,” he said when I didn’t respond. “I wasn’t trying to put down your work. There are a lot of people that do charity work just for show. You’re special.”
He reached out and took my hand. And I let him. Warmth spread through my chest when I looked up from our l
inked hands and saw a worried look on his face.
This isn’t real. This isn’t real.
“My father used to say I was special all the time.”
“I bet he doesn’t approve of the big check I wrote,” Cooper said, making a face.
“He probably wouldn’t have but…” I hesitated, saying the next words. After all these years, it was still hard to talk about. “Both of my parents are dead. They died in a car accident when I was sixteen.”
Instead of saying something meaningless, he squeezed my hand. It was the perfect response. Empty platitudes would have ruined the moment.
“It’s part of the reason why I do what I do. I had just started my junior year of high school, and everything I thought I wanted or needed in my life—a prom date, good grades, a solid college application letter—it all seemed so frivolous and stupid. In one night I lost everything. I had no one left. Neither one of my parents had family. Per their will, a friend of theirs that I hardly knew was granted guardianship. And when I turned eighteen, I inherited all this money. That money made me feel even more isolated. At that time, the economy wasn’t doing great. There were so many people struggling. People who’d lost everything—just like me.”
This isn’t how I intended on ending our date, but he’d wanted to know why I ran the shelter. Why I devoted so much of myself. And I really wanted him to understand how much it meant to me. I took a long swig of the wine and continued my story.
“Just after I turned eighteen, I ran into someone that used to work for my parents. He lost his job due to downsizing and was living out of his car with his wife and his young baby girl. You see, there’s not a lot of good options for families.”
“That’s when you decided to open a family shelter,” said Cooper.
I nodded, wiping away a few tears with the back of my hand. Great conversation for a first date.
But this isn’t a real first date, I reminded myself.