Chapter 8
Fenway Park. A game between the Boston Red Sox and their longtime rival the New York Yankees. Baseball didn’t get any better than this. The loud hum of voices filled the ballpark. Vendors selling food shouted a little louder than usual as they walked up and down the concrete steps. And fans for both teams sat on the edge of their seats waiting for the players to take the field.
Callie had been to the stadium once before. She’d sat way up in the nosebleed section, about as far from the field as you could get and still be in the park.
Today, she had front row seats, right behind the batter’s box. “I can’t believe you were able to get seats like this,” she said, aware of the awe in her voice. Dylan probably thought she sounded like an idiot, but Callie couldn’t help it. Never had she imagined having seats like these for a Red Sox game.
“You didn’t even think I could get tickets,” he reminded her.
She nodded. “True. I still don’t...” Her voice trailed off when Dylan’s arm settled on the back of her seat and his hand settled on her shoulder, the heat from his skin seeping through her shirt. Her heart lurched, and for a moment, she stopped breathing.
Get a hold of yourself. He just needed a place to rest his arm. Once again, her traitorous heart didn’t want to accept the words her brain sent it. She really needed to get those two organs on the same page. Otherwise, she was headed for some serious trouble.
Racking her suddenly empty brain for something to say, Callie said the first thing she found. “I’ve only been here once before, with the Girl Scouts on a troop field trip.”
Dylan’s lips curved into a smile. “So you were a cookie pusher?”
Callie gasped as she tried not to smile. “There’s more to Girl Scouts than selling cookies, I’ll have you know.”
He nodded in agreement, a slight gleam in his eye. “True. You march in parades, too.”
Without thinking, she gently punched his thigh. “Shows how much you know, Mr. CEO! We learned and did all kinds of things.”
“If you say so.” Dylan trapped her hand against his thigh and interlocked their fingers.
With that single touch, the rest of the stadium disappeared. All she could see was their hands linked together resting on his jean-clad leg. All she could feel was the warm skin of his hand and muscular thigh. The ease she’d felt when they’d been bantering back and forth evaporated.
Remember who he is. The silent order brought Callie back to the stadium as the announcer asked everyone to stand for the National Anthem, which was actually being sung tonight by a couple of Girl Scouts.
“Looks like you cookie pushers sing, too.” Dylan laughed as the young girls on the field waited for the music to begin.
Shivering, she automatically rubbed her hands up and down her arms in an effort to warm up. Earlier in the day it had been warm, but now that the sun had gone down and a breeze had picked up, the temperature had dropped several degrees. Callie wished she’d thought to bring a sweatshirt along.
From the corner of her eye, she noticed Dylan remove the unbuttoned long-sleeved denim shirt he wore over his t-shirt. “Here, put this on.”
Accepting the shirt, she asked, “What about you?”
“I’m fine. Don’t worry.”
Grateful, Callie slipped the shirt on. The fabric was still warm from his body. The heat felt heavenly against her skin. She couldn’t help but sigh in pleasure.
“Better?”
“Much. Thanks.” The shirt enveloped her. The slightest scent of some pricey cologne or aftershave clung to the fabric, and she felt as if he was embracing her.
Now that’s a stupid thought. It’s just a shirt.
Touching her arm, Dylan nodded in the direction of the scoreboard. “Told you the Sox couldn’t win with Roberts pitching tonight.”
“It isn’t over yet.” Callie narrowed her eyes at him. “They’re only down by three runs, and there are still two and a half innings to play.”
He shrugged and gave her a boyish, lopsided smile. “Does the Girl Scout care to make a little wager?”
She wasn’t usually a betting person. She didn’t even buy lottery tickets, but what the heck. “Okay, Mr. CEO, you’re on.”
“If your beloved Sox manage to pull off a win, you get to pick what we do tomorrow.” Dylan’s doubt that the Sox could win was evident in his voice. “But if they don’t, I get to choose.”
What we do tomorrow? As far as wages went, this one was a win-win for her. Still, she hesitated for the briefest of seconds. He’d never mentioned getting together on Sunday. Not that she had any plans, but didn’t he have more interesting things to do than spend time with her?
“You’re on,” she replied, ignoring the questions swirling in her head. She could figure them out later when she was alone. Right now, she just wanted to have a little fun and enjoy what she was starting to think of as a date with the man next to her.
It hadn’t been her intention. Ever since they made plans to attend the game, she’d been telling herself it was just a night out with a friend. She had a few guy friends who she hung out with from time to time. Right now though, cocooned in his shirt with his arm draped over her shoulders, the word date blazed in her mind like a neon sign.
A date with Dylan Talbot. Never in a million years would she have imagined it. And another date with him tomorrow. Somewhat oblivious to the game on the field, Callie thought, What am I getting myself into? Trouble. Big. Time. Trouble.
On the field, the Red Sox batter smashed a two-run homer over the Green Monster, sending the crowd to its feet. The deafening noise drew Callie back to the stadium.
“Told you it wasn’t over yet. Now we’re only down by one run.”
Dylan leaned closer to whisper in her ear, his breath caressing her skin. “It was a lucky shot, but it doesn’t matter. Even if the Yankees don’t win, I still do.”
Callie wasn’t sure what to make of his statement. It was pretty much exactly what she’d been thinking when he proposed the wager. “I see you know when to jump off a sinking ship.” It was easier to joke and make light of the situation than overthink every one of his words or actions. If she did that, Callie knew she would drive herself crazy.
The Teacher's Billionaire Page 19