You are helping, my brain reminds me. You are helping in a way that uses your degree in communications.
My eyes continue to watch the truck until it turns the corner and goes around to the back, where the shelter part is located and where the animals are loaded and unloaded.
But that isn’t how you want to help, my heart argues. You want to be hands-on. You want to be with the animals, not write about them.
I shove the thought aside and hurry through the parking lot, so I can get back to the content I’m creating for the newsletter. And I have to post a few more teaser pics on social media from the shoot yesterday.
As I step inside the building, my phone vibrates in my tote. I drop my hand in it, fishing around as I lift my ID badge to the door to gain entry into our offices. I step inside, and my pulse leaps when I see it’s a message from Brady:
I will happily drive you home. Can’t wait to cross the river with you tonight.
I can’t help it. I happily hold my phone over my heart for a moment, relishing Brady’s wonderful words.
And for the first time ever, I’m looking more forward to the end of the game than the start of it—and to seeing Brady as soon as it’s over.
Chapter Seven
“Pasta and mushrooms.” Barbara places a casserole dish in the center of the table. “And now, everyone can dig in,” she says, taking a seat at the end of the table.
I stare at the dish of penne pasta, smothered in a fragrant mushroom sauce, and my vegetarian heart is full. Barbara, Hayley’s beloved elderly neighbor, is fond of cooking for anyone who happens to be hungry, and tonight is no exception. The table is filled with food, from roasted chicken breasts on the bone to green beans covered with buttery toasted breadcrumbs and fresh dill to the mushroom pasta. There’s also a cucumber salad and fresh poppy seed rolls.
Dominik, her husband, picks up a fork and retrieves a piece of chicken for himself. “Wife, did you think the boys were coming after the game to eat? Why so much food?”
Hayley smiles. “You know Brody will happily be over here to get anything Barbara makes.”
“Yes, he would. And I’m already cooking meals for AJ and Katie during the week. The only one I’m not cooking for, it seems, is Brady,” she says, her astute gaze turning toward me. “But perhaps that might change.”
I can’t help but grin like an idiot as I scoop up some of the pasta and put a hefty portion on my plate. “Perhaps.”
“I heard the pitcher has set his sights on you,” Dominik says.
I turn toward him and see a mischievous gleam in his eyes, and my heart beats a little faster as I study the knowing expression on his face.
“How do you know?” I ask.
“Um, perhaps by the fact that he kissed you last night?” Hayley says before filling her plate with salad.
My mouth drops open. I didn’t tell anyone that! “How does everyone know I kissed Brady last night?” I cry, a blush heating my cheeks.
“My dear girl, don’t you know men gossip worse than women?” Barbara says.
I shake my head. “There’s no way baseball players gossip as much as we women do,” I declare.
Dominik snorts. “You have a lot to learn about ballplayers.”
“You didn’t tell me you kissed him,” Hayley says matter-of-factly.
“Oh my God, is Brody’s twin ESP that strong?” I ask, incredulous.
“Dominik told us,” Barbara says, nodding with approval.
I whip my head towards Dominik. “How did you know?”
“I know what’s up,” he says.
“He did say you were the best first kiss he’s ever had,” Barbara says eagerly. “Let that sink in. Ever. Did you give him tongue on the first date, my dear?”
Oh my God, are we really discussing my kiss with Brady over dinner?
And if I gave him tongue?
Wait. I’m the best first kiss he’s ever had, and he’s telling people that? I furrow my brow in thought. Brady doesn’t seem like the kind of man to kiss and tell. No, he’s a gentleman. I know he wouldn’t give out super intimate details.
“What did he say?” I ask, needing to know.
“That’s what Brody said,” Dominik tells me, cutting his roll in half. “We had breakfast today at the diner. I had the blueberry oatmeal, wife. It was quite good.”
“Oh, the blueberry crumble one? I’m sorry that was the special. I had crochet club, you know, but I hate missing blueberry oatmeal day. Did Joseph say what the special was going to be tomorrow?”
I wait impatiently. The subject has now veered into the daily special at the breakfast café they visit every morning without fail.
“That damn avocado toast,” Dominik says, wrinkling his nose. “Toast should have butter and jam. Not avocados. And the price they charge for it. It’s robbery, I tell you.”
“Dominik, you need to broaden your horizons beyond the oatmeal bowl. It’s quite tasty with eggs,” Barbara insists.
“Nonsense. Eggs should be served with butter and jam on toast,” he says.
“That reminds me of a book I loved when I was little,” Hayley chimes in. “Bread and Jam for Frances. I always wanted bread and jam after I read it.”
If we start naming off flavors of jam instead of talking about Brady, I will lose my head.
“What did Brody say?” I try again.
“About avocado toast?” Barbara asks, furrowing her brow.
“He’s neutral on it. Brody would rather have cereal above anything else,” Hayley says.
“He did have Rice Krispies as part of his breakfast this morning,” Dominik says. “He was disappointed they were out of Cocoa Krispies.”
“No, not about toast,” I say impatiently. “What did Brody say about Brady? And me?”
Dominik smiles brightly at me. “I bet you would like to know that, wouldn’t you?”
Now, I feel heat up to the tips of my ears. He laughs, amused by the technicolor display I’m putting on right now.
“Oh, Dominik, tell her what you told us,” Barbara encourages.
He turns to me. “Brady told Brody he’s never had a date like the one he had with you.”
“He did?” I ask, my head swirling at the idea of him saying this to Brody.
“Yep. It seems as though you have cast a spell over our newest member of the pitching rotation,” Dominik says. “He called Brody while we were having breakfast. Brody asked if he made a move on you, and really, he was just joking with him, but then Brady answered the question.”
My heart hammers so loud I can barely hear anything else in the room. Well, I do hear the click-click-click of the moving tail on the old black-and-white cat clock hanging on the wall in the kitchen, but other than that, I’m hanging on in anticipation of Dominik’s next sentence.
“And what did he say?” I ask, practically holding my breath.
“Brady told his brother that he’s never kissed a girl on the first date before. He has a rule, you see, about waiting until the second date. But you were so beautiful and so spectacular, he said, and so intriguing, he couldn’t resist. He had to know your kiss that night. And then he told Brody you were the best first kiss he’s ever had.”