Page 9

Eve

T ate rejoins us in front of the stadium as the crowd thins.

It’s about time. He said he’d be gone for thirty minutes, but it feels closer to an hour.

Maybe it’s because I can’t wait to go home or because I feel ridiculous being here with all these young girls, including my daughter, hanging all over the players, but I’m glad he’s back.

A few minutes pass, and Tate hasn’t said a word. He’s unusually quiet, standing there with a fake smile on his face. Not that I know him well enough to read him accurately, but since we met, the man has shown me he has a lot to say. Except now.

“Everything okay?”

His dark, haunting eyes meet mine. An unexplained gloominess rolls off of him.

Something happened while he was gone. Now that I think of it, he was on the quiet side during the game, too.

Especially for a man who practically broke my door down to convince me to come along.

I still don’t understand why he wanted me here.

It’s not like Gemma and Teddy were going to have sex in front of him.

“Did you get to take a picture with your favorite player?” He asks, leaning close to me with his arms crossed over his chest and changing the subject from him to me.

“No.” I roll my eyes. “I don’t want pictures with them. And I know you’re avoiding my question.”

“I’m fine.” He insists. But the dismissive way he answers screams that he’s anything but. “Besides, I’d rather focus on why you’re not in line. Jonah still has a small crowd around him, but Diego is free.”

“No, thank you.”

His lips quirk up at the corner. “Did you see the amount of people waiting in line for them? Or are you waiting for Jonah?”

I take a quick peek at the player. And I mean player in more than one way. Jonah, who doesn’t look like he’s older than my daughter, stands there with his jersey open and hanging out of his pants, showing off his washboard abs. Why would Tate think I’d want anything to do with him?

“Not interested.”

“Why not?” I can’t tell if he’s serious or if he’s teasing me.

“Because those two are cocky little boys, not men.”

“Men?” He smirks, looking full of himself. “Really?”

Uh oh. That’s not what I meant. It is, but not the way Tate is taking it. The egomaniac thinks I mean him. How did I allow those words to leave my lips so carelessly?

A light flickers in his dark eyes. I want to look away, but I can’t. They’re magnetic. His smile grows, and his glum mood seems to wane.

“You like real men, huh? I’ll keep that in mind.”

“I didn’t mean you.” I’m quick to clarify.

“Um Hmm.” He might as well have a neon sign over his head calling me a liar. If the smug look on his face didn’t say it loud and clear, his overconfident peacock posture says it all.

“Seriously, that came out wrong.” I play with my necklace, feeling heat wash over me. “I meant to say that those boys are too young for me to look at in that way.”

“Or take a picture with?”

“Come on, you see it, don’t you? Some of them look like they’re straight out of high school. I’d feel like a pervert being with them.”

“I just asked if you wanted to take a picture. Clearly your mind went somewhere else.” He smirks with his hands in his pockets as he rocks back on his heels.

“No. I just, if they were older—”

“Quit while you’re ahead. The more you explain, the redder you get. And you already resemble a ripe tomato.”

“THERE’S NO WAY THAT blindfold was real,” Teddy says, dragging his fry through a trough of ketchup. “It’s impossible to hit the ball like that when you can’t see it. ”

“It is if you know where they’re going to pitch you,” Gemma argues. “It’s not like they play against real teams.”

“She has a point,” Tate chimes in.

Teddy shakes his head. “Nope, not buying it. I played baseball for years and couldn’t hit the ball like that with my eyes open. If these guys were that good, they’d be playing in the pros.” I don’t miss the uncomfortable look on Tate’s face or how his eyes drop. “Right Uncle Tate?”

He nods in agreement with his nephew before excusing himself to use the restroom. What’s wrong with him, and why am I along for the ride to witness it?

“I still can’t believe he turned them down,” Gemma says to her boyfriend before looking around to make sure the coast is clear.

The urge to ask is so strong, I can’t help myself. “Turned who down?”

“The Nurples.” Teddy drenches another fry before stuffing it in his mouth. “They want Uncle Tate to play with them.”

“Oh. How come he didn’t say anything?”

Teddy shrugs. “He’s not interested. I wish there was something like that for rugby. I’d kill to join that team.”

Once again, Tate seems to have gotten lost while leaving me to play babysitter. While Gemma hasn’t been openly hostile about me being here, she hasn’t said more than a word to me here and there. I’m getting the sense she feels like I overstayed my welcome .

Meanwhile, off in the distance, I spot Tate and a young waitress talking in the corner, both with smiles on their faces.

I feel even more uncomfortable and out of place than I did a minute ago.

Yet again, I ask myself why I’m here. This was an outing I could’ve done without, and I’m not interested in being anyone’s wingman. Especially Tate Grimm’s.