Page 12 of Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend (Catching Feelings #1)

“We have a sensory room, if you’d like to take a break.”

Tears spring to her eyes. “You’re serious?”

I wave down an usher. “Can you escort these two to the sensory room? And make sure they get whatever drinks or snacks they need, okay?”

The usher nods, and a moment later, the crying mom and crying toddler are going up the stairs.

Past Serena.

Of course she saw this. But I don’t care what she thinks. It’s not like she’d believe I was helping, even if she heard me.

Her friends don’t seem to have noticed me, but I can feel Serena’s eyes on me, even as I pretend I haven’t noticed her.

I refuse to be bothered by the opinions of people I wouldn’t invite to dinner.

Once the mom and her son are out of view, I head back down the stairs.

And when Serena calls out, “Hi, Kayla!” I pause, turn my head slightly, and give her a “Do I know you?” look.

“Hi!” I say with a dazzling, purposefully confused smile. “Thanks for coming to the game, y’all!”

Then I keep walking, leaving her to wonder if she’s really so forgettable.

Sour Serena seeks spotlight and social status.

I reach the bottom row and cut over two sections toward Sean.

Sean’s row is nearly empty, just him and some guys. All of them are wearing backwards baseball caps with a Mullet Ridge Dirtbags logo (the local “ice football” rec league. Yes, it’s real. No, I couldn’t explain it if my life depended on it.).

I walk toward Sean and his friends without a second thought, like my feet already know what my heart needs.

Acceptance.

Friendship.

A total lack of judgmental jerk-faces.

Sean sits up straighter when he sees me. He grabs a promotional T-shirt he must have nabbed from the mascot and pulls it off the seat beside him, making space for me.

“Hey, Captain.”

His shoulders shake with laughter, and just like that, the world feels a little less terrible.

“Kayla, do you know my friends?” he says. “This is Duke Ogden and Sonny Luciano. Duke is the Carolina Waves’ star quarterback, and Sonny just retired from the NFL and runs the ‘Family Over Football’ podcast.”

I wave as Duke elbows Sean.

“Dude,” Duke says, smiling at me. “I’ve known Kayla since I was ten. She was my first crush.”

“That’s true,” I say. “He sent me a love note and everything.”

Sonny laughs. “You didn’t. Does Millie know?”

Duke rolls his eyes. “Yes, she knows.” Then he nods at me. “Hey, Kayla. The stadium looks good. Nice work.”

“Thanks. It’s a work in progress.” I settle in, putting my feet up on the chair in front of me, legs crossed at the ankle like I own the place.

Which I literally do.

Sonny looks past Duke at me. I don’t know him as well as Duke, whom I grew up seeing on my grandpa’s—now cousin’s—farm.

But he just married one of my roommate’s best friends, and we all hung out together at a Lucy Jane concert several weeks ago.

We’re pals. “Hey, you know that run-down field out behind the stadium. Is that yours too?”

I nod. “It’s supposed to be part of my next round of upgrades. Why?”

“I’m coaching a tee-ball team and wondered if we could practice there. But are we going to get tetanus? It looks like it’s seen better days.”

Sean shakes his head, laughing. “Watch your mouth. That place is historic.”

“Historic?” Sonny says, clearly delighted. “Did you have your first kiss out there, or something?”

“No, I played my first tee-ball game there in kindergarten. I hit a double and threw up from nerves in the same inning.”

We all laugh.

“I didn’t know you professional athletes could even get nervous,” I say.

The other two snort, but Sean says, “Everyone gets nervous. That’s how you know you care.”

“That’s kind of precious,” I say. “I like the old diamond. It feels real. Romantic, even.”

Duke and Sonny laugh at this. “Nothing says romance like raccoon-infested dugouts,” Duke says.

I chuckle at that. My eyes wander over the field, at Fletch yelling something, at the team.

“You okay?” Sean asks

“Meh,” I say.

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“It’s not great,” I say. I pop the straw up on my water bottle and take a long drink as the Sandcats pitcher walks one of the Mudflaps.

“I just found out the town council’s planning to enforce an ordinance that says I have to be a Mullet Ridge resident to own the team.

Evidently I had ninety days from the time of acquisition to get an address in the zip code. And Sugar Maple doesn’t count.”

“What?” The question explodes from Sean’s lips. He shakes his head. “That’s not the point of the ordinance.”

“The town council disagrees. Scottie heard through the grapevine that there’s going to be a meeting next week. If I can’t find some legal loophole by then, ownership of the team will transfer back to the MiLB until someone more suitable can buy it.”

Sean leans forward and fixes his whole attention on me. His brow is deeply furrowed behind his sunglasses, and he’s shaking his head in small, fast movements. “Kayla, there has to be some way for you to keep the team. They can’t just force a sale, can they?”

I watch one of our guys hit a single, and I clap along with the crowd. “Unless I can find a time machine or a husband with the right zip code, it sounds like they can.”

He sits back. “I’m sorry. Serena must have done this.”

“I thought it was my evil ex because he bought the Outlaws, but I think it might just be the town showing me how they really feel.” I say, a throbbing pain in my throat.

“What does your lawyer think?”

“I haven’t asked him yet. And I don’t know if I will.”

“Kayla, you have to. You can’t let anyone chase you away.”

His concern is sweet, but it does nothing to alleviate the deep sense of defeat and even sadness I feel.

I am not wanted.

Anywhere.

Though my most recent text from Meryl suggests otherwise. A video of her begging me to come to Phineas’s next soccer game. I’m more tempted than I care to admit.

“It’s not the end of the world. I didn’t grow up dreaming of owning a baseball team in a town that hates me. I have a job I can go back to and a family who actually likes me. I’ll be fine.”

I smile at Sean, but it’s heavy, and the effort to keep my cheeks up is harder than doing a fouetté .

“Is that what you want ?”

“Does it matter?”

Sean looks at Duke and Sonny, then turns his gaze to the team. And the muscles in his face all shift. His eyebrows flatten, and his jaw hardens as something like resolve takes over him.

What on earth could he be resolving?

“Why don’t you come by the rink tonight? Some of my old teammates and I are running a scrimmage. And invite your team. Fletch, Scottie, whoever you want.”

“What for?”

“A break,” he says. “A welcome change from the town flogging you get everywhere else. Maybe I can show you a different side of Mullet Ridge.” He bumps his side into mine, his warmth making the day even hotter.

But in a cozy way. A way that flashes me back to his hands in my hair last night, how it felt when he cupped the back of my head and kissed me back.

Whew. Maybe it is a little too hot.

“Say you’ll come,” he says.

Two pairs of sunglasses separate our eyes—his and mine—but the intensity of his gaze pierces through both.

“Okay. See you tonight.”