Grinning ear to ear, he leapt a low concrete wall and sprinted to section 22 faster than he’d ever rounded the bases.
JAMIE HAD PLANNED A SPEECH.
She’d semirehearsed it as a follow-up to her YouTube video in case Lance was nice enough to forgive her for slinking away before dawn after they’d shared the most magical night of her life. That had been a mistake, a knee-jerk reaction to old fears of losing herself in a relationship and not being able to follow her own dreams. But when had Lance ever suggested she be anything but herself? He hadn’t seemed frustrated by her outrageousness. The fake nose hadn’t rattled him. Neither had her leopard-print umbrella.
In fact, he’d seemed fairly amused at her tactics. All of which helped her to realize she’d been a fool to run away from someone who knew all about her and liked her anyway.
But when she got an eyeful of him in his batting jersey, his number embroidered on the sleeve and the team name stitched across the shirt, all her planned words fell out of her head. The man wasn’t just a hot guy. He was a New York icon. And in the hour she’d been in the stadium, she’d been read the riot act four times by different fans who all warned her she’d better not distract “their” shortstop from his phenomenal hitting streak.
She rose from her seat, realizing they had an audience of early fans, but they seemed content to give them a little space. A few sections away, she saw some kids running toward them and guessed that wouldn’t last for long.
“So,” Lance began, apparently wise to her tongue-tied condition. “I hear you’ve become a fan of the team.”
He eyed her foam finger and she tucked it behind her.
“You saw the video?” She removed her sunglasses and drank in the sight of him without the barrier of lenses covered in trademarks.
“It’s been up for twenty minutes and my whole team has seen it. The hit count is already over one million.”
She couldn’t tell by that answer if he was charmed by her innovation or skeptical of a romantic declaration some might call tacky.
“I thought it was important to show you that I can deal with a high profile relationship.” She was grateful to see Lance’s teammates take the field for batting practice since their arrival re-routed the swarm of kids carrying balls to be autographed. “After the way I left this morning, I thought you deserved an apology that wasn’t just me spouting words—”
“What apology?” He frowned.
Fear tightened inside her. “I thought you said you saw the video?”
She’d worded it all just right in there.
“I left after the first minute or so because I wanted to see you.” He reached for her, his expression intent and somehow tender at the same time.
“You missed the apology and you still want to talk to me?” She couldn’t believe she would be so lucky to find a man who would let her make such a colossal mistake and not hold it against her.
Hope for a future together unfurled inside her.
“You apologized to me on YouTube.” He seemed to weigh the implications of that. “Were you, ah—specific about what you were sorry for?”
“That I snuck out before dawn after you were unselfish enough to give me my first multiple orgasm night?” She shook her head. “I wasn’t that explicit, but yes.”
At the chorus of gasps nearby, Jamie knew their conversation could be overheard by a smattering of folks in section 22 who possessed sharp ears. But she was past the point of worrying about a public image that had never been stellar anyhow. What mattered to her most was standing right here in front of her and she couldn’t risk losing him.
Lance shook his head while one of his teammates teed off on a practice pitch.
“Well, I missed that, but you don’t need to apologize for running out.” He looped his arm around her shoulders and drew her close. “You’d make me happiest if I could see you in private again, after the game.”
Her heart sped up and she felt like she’d just stepped into the sun after too many months of carrying the clouds around with her. Too many months of trying to please mysterious entertainment polls and a fickle public to get a respect that might never come. Being with Lance had helped her see she might as well simply be herself. She had more fun making her video today than she’d had—professionally speaking—in a long time. Being with Lance had opened up a creative door that had been blocked for a while.
“Um—actually, you missed more than just an apology.” She hoped he wouldn’t mind what she’d posted online. But she’d been following her heart and trying to show him she cared. “I did it out of affection for you.”
Possibly the beginnings of love. She could feel the sparkly joy of that emotion underneath all the other happiness, but she wouldn’t mind letting that grow as she got to know him. She planned to spend a lot of time in Scrapers Stadium this summer.
“You did what, precisely?” His eyes narrowed, but he still didn’t betray any hint of frustration at her quirky ways. Lance appeared curious more than anything. Amused.
“I created a montage of Lance Montero’s baseball highlights as a tribute to you, and to prove I’m serious about being a fan.” She thought it would entertain his public and show them that she had no intention of distracting their star from his game.
Besides, she was a lyricist. And the funky song had swelled up out of her with practically no effort, as though her music had been just waiting for the right moment to make a comeback.
From down on the field, a familiar tune drifted up to the seats. The voices of at least fifteen guys roused a few of the fans to join in.
“What are they singing?” Lance released her long enough to watch a woman a few seats away as she did a little spin move and hummed.
“I set the tribute to music,” she explained. “And actually, I created a dance, too. You know, lots of Super Bowl teams have had their own dances over the years.”
Lance clapped a hand over his eyes and groaned, although the sound wasn’t completely despairing.
“You know I’m not a contender for the Super Bowl as a baseball player, right?”
“Of course.” She’d been really proud of the song, her first stab at being entertaining in too many months. “But you can take a little of the magic that makes football fun to sort of liven up your sport, can’t you?”
Down on the field, Jamie noticed two of Lance’s teammates yukking it up and slapping their thighs over a shared joke.
“You realize I’m going to get harassed all season for this?”
“I figure you’re a big boy, you can handle it.” She winked at him and then her smile faded. “But I would feel worse if you didn’t accept my apology.” She twisted one of the pewter pins bearing the Scrapers logo that she’d used to outline her skirt pocket. “I understand if you can’t forgive me, but I did work hard on the montage.”
He wrapped her in a bear hug before she finished the sentence, her final word muffled in his shirt.
“Jamie, I want you to ride home with me and never leave.” He kissed the top of her head. “Remember? I knew yesterday I was crazy about you. I was just waiting for you to realize we should be together. If your apology means you’re going to try to be with me, that makes me the happiest man you can imagine.”
She felt the smile in her heart before it reached her lips. Her whole soul seemed to smile.
“Even if your fans think my song is silly?” She hadn’t fully thought through that part. She’d just wanted to show him she could handle the public scrutiny, but maybe she’d ended up bringing unwanted attention his way.
“They can sing it all the way to the World Series, sweetheart.” He pulled away from her and withdrew her sunglasses from her shirt pocket. “Just root for the home team, and we’ll finish this discussion after the game, okay?”