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“Okay, you got to know all about me at dinner, but now I get the final ten minutes of our evening to pepper you with questions,” I say.Griffin’s eyes find mine briefly, and the calm intensity in them sends a shiver through me.

“Fair logic,” he says, eyes returning to the road. “What do you want to know?”

“What does your day-to-day life look like during the season?” I ask.

Griffin sputters a breath through his lips. “Couldn’t start off with a soft pitch question first? Had to pull out the curveball right away?”

I bite my lip. “Can we go ahead and acknowledge that I’m going to understand exactly zero baseball lingo or references? You’re going to have to spell out that meaning.”

He cuts another glance at me, laced with playfulness this time. “Can we also acknowledge that I’m eventually going to pry the story out of you as to why you dislike America’s favorite sport so much?”

I wave my hand and make a dismissive sound.

“Soft pitch would be easy to hit, so an easy-to-answer question. Curveballs are trickier, which means the question doesn’t have a straightforward answer. Or maybe I don’t want to give a straightforward answer. Mostly because I don’t want to scare you off with the reality of my schedule,” Griffin says.

My face falls slightly, not that he’s looking at me to notice. He licks his lips before continuing. “We’re away at spring training in Arizona for about six weeks before the official season begins. We get back home but alternate being in town for seven to ten days and then traveling for the same duration of time. Usually, we play six to seven games per week, so it’s not exactly a laid-back schedule.”

I suck in a sharp breath before I can stop myself.That schedule is . . . worse than I imagined.Staring out the window for a moment, I say, “Wow. That’s a lot.”

“But, you know, I do have free time when we’re in town. Not every game is in the evening—some are in the early afternoons. And we do have some shorter days of practice and training when we don’t have games,” Griffin says, and I detect a note of desperation in his voice. “A good chunk of the season falls over the summer, and players’ families are allowed to travel as much as they want to. So it’s not like I wouldn’t see my wife and kids for weeks at a time or anything outrageous like that.”

Realizing what he said, he slaps a hand to his forehead. “I mean, not saying that we’re for sure getting married. I didn’t mean to imply that. But also not saying that I’mnotthinking about marriage, because I am, I’m not just looking for something casual with you. Or, what I mean is—”

As I’ve watched him scramble to explain his thoughts, a smile has slowly grown so large on my face that I can’t hold back a giggle any longer. His gaze cuts over to me, and relief softens his features when he sees my smile.

“I know what you meant,” I say, putting him out of his misery. Although the verbal scrambling coming from this self-assured man was kind of adorable. “I appreciate the clarity that you’re serious. And to reciprocate the clarity, I will say that while a hectic schedule like that isn’t my ideal, it’s not an immediate deal-breaker for me. I’m open to continue exploring where life might lead us.”

“Okay, good,” he says. “I was seriously sweating it there for a minute.”

We turn onto my street, which means I’m running out of time to glean more information from him. “As we’ve established, I’m not a baseball fan,” I begin.

“Firmly established,” Griffin cuts in with a grin.

“An indisputable fact,” I add. “But Jason has been talking my ear off about your baseball stats and career. He mentioned that you were injured last year and were questionable to come back. I assume everything is all healed up now?”

The light in Griffin’s eyes dims, and his face hardens. I didn’t expect such an intense reaction to a well-known fact.Maybe reliving the injury is traumatic for him?I try to retreat. “You don’t have to talk about that,” I say in a rush. “Sorry if I shouldn’t have asked about it. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

Griffin sighs as he pulls into the parking lot of my townhouse complex. “No, you don’t need to apologize. I don’t want you to feel bad asking me anything,” he says. He puts the Jeep in park and stretches his neck to either side before looking at me. “Yeah, it was one of our first games to start the season last year. I injured my left shoulder—my catching arm—pretty badly. It was . . .” He trails off, looking out the window.

“Bad?” I supply for him.

“Yeah, it was bad,” he says. “The surgeon and rehab team were fantastic, though, getting me back into shape.”

“I’m sure you did a lot of the hard work to get yourself back into shape,” I add. “That’s admirable.”

“Sure, yeah. It was a lot of hard work. I’m glad to be back with the Crowns to start the season,” he says, still not meeting my eyes.

Apparently, I unintentionally poked a pain point. “We’d better get inside so I can get Jason in bed,” I say, pivoting to open my door.

I’m halted by the sensation of Griffin’s hand around mine. His calloused palm is rough against my skin, but his fingertips are soft as they wrap around and trace my palm. I turn to look over my shoulder at him.

“Danae, I’m sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong asking me about the injury—that’s a logical topic of conversation,” he says. I turn to fully face him, careful not to move my left arm too much. I don’t want to risk losing any of the points of contact between our hands.

“I wasn’t mentally prepared for your question. I kinda have to psyche myself up to talk about being injured. Can I take a rain check for that topic? I promise I’ll tell you more sometime,” Griffin says. One side of his lips hitches up as he adds, “Please don’t let that be the lingering memory of our first date.”

“Deal,” I reply. “I really should get Jason to bed, though.”

Griffin lightly squeezes my hand before reluctantly letting go (at least, he seemed reluctant, but maybe I’m projecting my own feelings). We make our way inside and find Samantha and Jason sitting across from each other at the dining table. There’s a half-empty plate of cookies and a set of playing cards between them.