Page 36 of Untying the Knot
She just shrugs. “If our paths crossed, then they crossed.” She smirks. “And looks like that happened.” She sets my beer down, pulls out her phone, and takes a picture of it. “This is being listed as a beer belonging to a baller.”
How can she act so casual? As if seeing me is just a normal, everyday thing? I know we didn’t make any promises to each other, nor were we in any sort of relationship, but hell, I’m a little shook from seeing her.
After the thrill of being called up to the Majors and packing, I sat on my red-eye to Chicago thinking about how I’d bolted out of the bar and away from Myla before I could actually process it all. Guilt consumed me, and when I landed, I messaged her on Instagram and apologized for bolting. I told her if she was ever in Chicago to contact me.
She never wrote back.
And clearly, she never contacted me. Maybe she has a boyfriend?
I thought that she was mad, had moved on, or just didn’t see the value in continuing our conversation. I still kept up with her drink pictures, and though I thought about her often, I never said anything because, well, I didn’t want to badger her. She was in Phoenix, and I was in Chicago, so not much could be done.
But now that she’s here . . .
She sets her phone down and looks up at me. Her beautiful eyes study what I can only imagine is a perplexed expression. “Why the scowl?” she asks, motioning to my forehead.
“I’m sorry.” I shake my head, trying to rid myself of my thoughts. “I’m just confused is all. I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Aw.” She places her hand on my thigh and leans forward. “Are you flustered?”
“A little.” I chuckle.
“That’s cute. Don’t worry, I’ll take it easy on you.” She sips from my beer. “It’s good to see you, though.” Her eyes roam my body, mainly fixating on my chest. “Looks like those protein bars have been paying off.”
For some stupid reason, I glance at my chest and then back up at her. “Uh, yeah. That and the strength and conditioning team for the Bobbies.”
“Well, good on them. And you’ve been enjoying Chicago?”
“Yeah, as much as I’ve been able to enjoy it. Baseball has taken up a lot of my time, so I haven’t really experienced the city as much as I’ve wanted. But what I have experienced, I’ve liked.”
She leans her elbow on the table, those bright, brilliant eyes nearly cutting through me. How could I forget how fucking beautiful she is? “Has anyone ever told you, you need to loosen up?”
“Several people,” I answer as I steal my beer for a sip, but then hand it back to her when I’m done.
“Maybe that’s what you try to do tonight.” She draws a circle over the back of my hand with her finger, and I willingly allow myself to revel in the way it makes me feel—turned on and wanting so much more. “Think you can have some fun with me?”
Uh, yeah . . . I think I can.
“Welcome to trivia night,” the host says into the mic, which quiets the bar. “We have ten teams tonight, all vying for the coveted fifty-dollar gift card to the Cold Stone Creamery across the street.”
The bar cheers as Myla says, “Fifty dollars’ worth of creamy creations . . .” She rubs her hands together. “You better be on your A game, Bisley. This girl wants some treats.”
“No need to worry about me,” I say as I glance toward Banner and Nichole, who seem to be heavy in conversation, and when I say conversation, I mean intimately touching each other. I hope they remember the four-person rule.
“What are your strengths in trivia?” Myla asks as she sips from our shared glass.
“Sports and history. What about you?”
In the most serious tone I’ve ever heard her use, she says, “Everything, Ryot. Everything would have been the best answer.”
I chuckle. “Sorry. I meant everything.”
She offers me a wink. “Good answer.”
The host explains the rules.
Our burgers are dropped off, and I split mine with Myla.
And once we’re set, the game begins.
