Ryan’s phonebuzzed on the shelf of the locker, and he lunged for it.
“What the fuck, man?” Declan Lowery, the Metros third baseman, asked when Ryan’s chair crashed to the ground beside his locker.
He didn’t even bother to reply because his entire focus was on the three by four-inch rectangle in his hand. She’d finally answered. This morning, he’d sent a quickhey, baby. After no response for two hours, he thought maybe she didn’t realize it was him. So he shot off another text.It’s Ryan. How is your morning going?And then another hour went by, so he tried again.Last night was amazing. And then, when she still hadn’t answered later that afternoon, he sent another. One that probably made him look desperate, but he didn’t care.Bridg, did I do something wrong? Because I thought you were okay with me leaving to make roll call.But she still hadn’t responded. Was she blowing him off? That thought almost had him leaving the stadium to go bang on her door. If he hadn’t been the starting pitcher that night, he might have. He reread the text.
Naughty Nurse: No, no, it’s good. I just don’t spend much time on my phone. Most days I forget about it.
He started typing out a reply, but she beat him.
Naughty Nurse: How did you get my number?
“I didn’t know he was capable of moving that fast. Maybe we need to let him run bases more often,” Tim Tillerson, the starting catcher, joked. “Although he’d have to learn to hit the ball, not just throw it.”
“He’s not hearing a word you’re saying.” Lowery put the folding chair back on its legs before he smacked Ryan on the back. “Already having issues with Bridget?”
Most of the guys on the team hadn’t been paying enough attention to see him leave with Bridg last night, but he and the third baseman had been tight for a while, so he wasn’t shocked that Lowery had noticed.
“Fuck off,” Ryan mumbled before focusing on his phone again. This might sound stalkerish, but he’d have to explain it to her.
Ryan: When I took Aidan to that football game with Connor a few years back, my sister gave me your number, and I added it to my contacts.
He waited, but no bubble appeared to indicate she was texting him back. After another minute, he set his phone back in his locker and rubbed his forehead in frustration. Should he just call? Talking would probably help him figure out what her deal was. But was that too much?
Is this what it was like for the women he hadn’t responded to over the years? He didn’t give out his number often, but sometimes, if there was more than a surface-level connection, he would. He’d never been great about replying to those texts or even finishing every conversation. The pull just wasn’t there. But had those women felt like this? Like they’d developed an ulcer just worrying about what to say or do next?
The door to the training room opened, and Corey Matthews stomped across the room and flopped into the chair in front of his locker, a scowl firmly in place. Ryan glanced around the locker room, looking for the tiny reporter who was making his friend insane.
“Where’s Taran?”
“How would I know?” Corey frowned at the rookie catcher. “Maybe ask Tillerson.”
“Texted me she was done with my article, and she’d send me a copy. Kind of rude she didn’t say goodbye, you know?” Tillerson shook his head, and Corey’s fist clenched.
“Easy,” Ryan mumbled to Corey. Hooking up with the reporter traveling with the team wasn’t allowed, and Corey needed to settle down, or everyone would assume that was exactly what was going on.
Corey grunted and shut his eyes, leaning back in the chair. Ryan was going to say something, but his phone vibrated, and once again, it had his attention.
Naughty Nurse: Oh okay. Have a good game.
That was a conversation ender if he’d ever seen one. Right? Or was she being nice? Ryan gritted his teeth. What the hell was the matter with him? Texting a chick had never been a big deal before. Maybe she really wasn’t a texter. Maybe talking would be better.
Ryan: Thanks. Can I call you after the game?
It took a minute, but his phone buzzed.
Naughty Nurse: I might be asleep.
That was another maddening answer. Was that a no? Or did she mean he should text first to see? Ryan slipped his phone back into his locker. He had to stop obsessing about Bridget and get his head in the game. The Tahoe Sharks were one of the worst teams in baseball, and after yesterday’s almost loss, the Metros needed a solid win.
But all through warm-up, the National Anthem, and the first inning, all he could think about was silky dark skin and copper curls. Would she watch the game? Did she even care about baseball? He slumped against the bench and glared at the field.
Corey glanced over at him before moving closer. Ryan sighed. He didn’t want to talk, especially with Corey, because the man was so moody.
“One of the things she loves about your sister is that she doesn’t beat around the bush. Her ex was a game player, manipulative. She doesn’t respond to subtle because she assumes it’s bullshit. Whatever is eating you, just do what you usually do and straight out tell her. Don’t get all weird just because you have the hots for her.” Corey mumbled the words without even looking at Ryan, then he got up and walked down into the tunnel.
Ryan blinked. His teammate was right. Now he just needed to make time to talk to her because the team was on a flight out first thing in the morning.
7