Chapter Eleven
Camille
“
I t’s time to pay up.” I grin as I walk Ryker into an empty office in the baseball facility. It’s set up with two chairs opposite each other, and my new camera, thanks to Coach Warren, is on a tripod.
“Joy,” he mutters, plopping onto one of the chairs, his arms folding across his chest.
I ignore his grumpiness, keeping the cheerful smile on my face. “Correct, this is going to be so much fun.”
Ryker only stares at me, unsure what he’s getting himself into.
“All right, so this is how it’s going to work. I’ll ask questions fans sent in, and you’ll answer them. If there’s anything you’d rather not answer, just say pass .”
I begin the video, then sit behind the lens so that I’m not seen but you can still hear my voice.
“Hi, everyone, today we have a fan favorite with us, Ryker Lewis. The talented third baseman and infamous team grump.”
Ryker raises a single brow at that but says nothing.
“We have some burning questions here from your fans, so are you ready to give us some answers?” I give him a thumbs-up, letting him know he can take the floor now.
“I can’t wait.” He raises the corners of his lips slightly, then drops them just as quickly, clearly unenthused.
But this is exactly what his fans love, so I’ll take it.
“First question. If you weren’t playing baseball, what else would you be doing?”
He doesn’t miss a beat and answers immediately. “I’d have my own tattoo shop.”
“I could see that. You’re very talented,” I compliment him, then realize it’s supposed to be a professional interview.
I clear my throat and ask the next question. “Favorite music?”
“Anything in the rock genre from the ’60s to the ’90s.”
“Favorite season?
“Summer.”
“Are you dating anyone?”
Wait, what?
I look down at my questions and double-check that I read it correctly.
I did.
Ryker’s head tilts back, thrown off by the question. He swallows once, then in his deep, rough voice, says, “No. I’m married to the game. There’s no time for that.”
There should be no reason why his answer affects me, but it does. It cements the fact that despite my crush on him, it’ll only ever be that. A one-sided crush. He doesn’t want love in his life, nor does he have the time for it.
I school my features, hoping my disappointment doesn’t show as I ask my next question, not thinking twice, my voice an octave higher than normal. “What is your ideal date?”
“If you wanted to hang out, you could’ve just asked, princess.” His lips twitch, a hint of amusement on his face .
My mouth gapes. “No, that’s not what this is.” I flip the paper to him, pointing at the question. “It’s right here, look.”
Ryker shrugs, unconvinced. “You printed them, didn’t you?”
“I did, but I didn’t get a chance to look them over.”
He takes pity on me, relenting on his teasing as he answers the question. “If, and emphasis on the if , I ever took a girl out, I’d do something she likes. That would be my ideal date, seeing her in her element, happy.” His voice takes on a more serious tone, his eyes locked onto mine.
My brain short-circuits and fails to compute what he just said as my body responds to his attention, wanting more of it. We stare at one another for a beat, then he clears his throat.
I sit up straight in my chair and cross my legs. “How thoughtful of you. I’m sure all the ladies listening are swooning over that.”
Jealousy creeps over me and I use the paper to distract me. I read the questions and decide I want to ask him a question of my own instead. “Why are you so grumpy?”
Ryker seems surprised. “Why are you brave enough to ask me that question?”
I go to answer, then decide against it. “I asked you first.”
His stormy blue eyes narrow at me, but then he does as I asked. “I don’t hate the world, just some of the people in it. Also, when you’re determined like I am to make it big, you need to have a one-track mind. So sure, I can come across as a grumpy asshole because I don’t give anything the time of day besides my craft. Sue me.” He throws his hands up in surrender, then promptly folds them back in front of his chest.
I want to poke the bear, to prod deeper into who exactly he hates and why he’s so determined that baseball is the only thing that matters, but I don’t. “You’re a hard worker and highly motivated. It certainly shows on the field,” I comment, my eyes flicking back to the paper, perusing for one final question.
“Okay, last question.”
“Thank God,” he mutters, his left knee bouncing up and down.
“Who’s inspired you the most in your life?” I ask, genuinely curious.
Ryker unfolds his arms, leaning on his knees with his forearms as he thinks over the question. After a minute of silence, he speaks up, “My mom. She showed me at a young age that you don’t need to quit on your dreams because someone quit on you. It taught me that having your own passion was important. We can’t always rely on another person to fill that piece of ourselves, because when they leave, you’d have nothing.”
I let out a breath, wrapping my head around his answer. “Wow, that’s…deep.”
“It’s the truth,” he retorts, coming to a stand. “Are we done here?”
“Yeah, that was great. Thank you.” I stand as well, noting how he towers over me despite me being five-foot-eleven.
“Anything for you,” he says under his breath, his eyes not leaving mine.
Before I can ask what he means, he turns on his heel and storms out of the room. As soon as he’s gone, I plop back down onto the chair, my mind reeling with all the information I learned today.
Not only did I get to learn some fun facts about him, I also got to see a different side to Ryker. The love for his mom was evident and beyond sweet. And then his answer about the date, how he’d make it about her?
God, I wish more men were like that. Because maybe then, my dream of a fairytale of a life would actually feel like one with a love like that.