From Enemies to Expecting(36)

“We’ll leave in about an hour,” he told her as they left the restaurant after breakfast.

“Oh. Isn’t the game at one o’clock?”

He hid a smile. “Yeah, but the team usually gets there about six hours early. I’m cutting you a break since it’s your first time.”

She hit the lobby an hour later, exactly on time. The day was perfect for baseball—cloudy with a slight breeze off the bay, which put the temperature near sixty degrees. Logan loved this area, especially in the summer, when it routinely reached 110 in their home stadium in Texas. Trinity shivered as they stepped outside the glass doors to the valet stand.

Without hesitation, he stripped off his jacket and draped it around her shoulders. Gratefully, she smiled and slipped her arms into the sleeves. He didn’t feel guilty at all about getting extra clothes on her and bit his tongue instead of asking if she owned a sweater.

He was pretty sure he already knew the answer to that.

Somehow he resisted putting his hands on her during the limo ride to the field. The stadium sat overlooking the bay with a great view of the Oakland bridge. Across the bay, San Francisco gleamed in the low light of the morning, and he was extraordinarily glad they didn’t have to venture to that side of the bridge. The traffic in the Bay Area rivaled Dallas, and he was not a fan of sitting in the car for hours.

Of course, he’d never done it with Trinity. That might make a long commute worth it.

The stadium was less grand than some others, but he got a rush walking through the gates regardless. The smell of popcorn lingered in the air, something almost all stadiums had in common, even the open-air ones. He’d never lost the sense of being on sacred ground, and no matter what time it was, he could hear the thunk of the ball against his glove, the shush as it sailed through the air, the roar of the crowd in his head. God, he could still feel the energy even though it had been nine years since the last time he’d pitched here.

Some days it felt like his life had ended when his career had.

Trinity slipped her hand into his, squeezing it. More strategy? If she’d noticed he’d slipped into a funk, she didn’t say anything, but the timing couldn’t be a coincidence. She’d somehow tuned in to him and he didn’t hate it, no matter how weird it felt to be here with a woman, especially one wearing his suit jacket. Weird, but nice.

Trinity oohed and ahhed over the skybox he’d borrowed from a friend. He tried to see it through the eyes of someone who’d never been in one before, but he’d grown up in the box his dad owned, often hanging out for hours on random Saturdays during the season.

It was odd to be above the field when his team was on it. The players were warming up, and he automatically assessed each one.

Trinity’s unique feminine scent hit him a moment before the woman did. She joined him at the glass overlooking the field. “Are you okay? You seem distant.”

He shrugged, mystified how she could do that when he hadn’t clued in on her moods to the same degree. “I’m an in-the-trenches guy. It’s very unusual for me to watch my team play from this vantage point.”

“Why are you here, then?”

It was a valid question. No one else was here yet. The party wouldn’t start for a couple of hours, closer to game time. And there certainly weren’t any photographers around. “I don’t know.”

He literally had no idea how to integrate a woman—fake, real or otherwise—into the rest of his life. Sure, he’d dated a few women here and there since buying the Mustangs. But they’d never been serious enough relationships to bring the lady to a game.

Which of course begged the question—how serious was this one?

There might have been a hundred other things he could have taken his fake girlfriend to besides an away game, where they’d be stuck together for three more days until they went home late Thursday night. Yet he’d pounced on Myra’s suggestion. Why, because he’d wanted to see how Trinity fit in here?

Trinity cocked her head, contemplating him. “If you’re normally down on the field, the only conclusion I can draw is that you’re here for me.”

He made the mistake of meeting her ice-blue eyes, which had gained a great deal of warmth as she watched him.

“I am.” No point in lying about it. “I didn’t want you to be alone. This is a big stadium, and you don’t know anything about baseball.”

Okay, that part might not have been the whole truth. But he wasn’t sure what was.

She laughed. “I’m a big girl, Logan. I can find things to do no matter where I am. But since you’ve made such an excellent point, tell me about baseball.”