Chapter Nineteen
“All you have to do is smell good and not be a dick. Dating isn’t that hard.” - Garrett
DEREK
Today is the day I’ve been waiting forever for.
This has been months in the making, something that I have been dreaming of—literally—since the moment I saw her again at Graham’s wedding.
A date. And hell, I was nervous.
Elizabeth is the kind of woman you want to do nice things for. Sure, she’s low maintenance, but she’s the woman you woo to get her down the aisle, not the kind that gets a beer and pizza from me and that’s the extent of my trying.
However, as much as I want to take her to a nice restaurant with expensive wine and bring her flowers and show her exactly how much this date means to me, Elizabeth proposed that she plan the date.
I don’t think in my entire adult life that I ever had a woman plan a date.
What’s that say for the female dating pool? Not much.
We were going in the middle of an afternoon since Birdie wasn’t up to leaving Rora when bedtime came around. I respected and admired her for that, knowing she was doing everything she could to make sure her daughter was taken care of so that she could relax and enjoy herself.
When Birdie asks me to meet her outside Cobra’s infamous baseball stadium, my interest is piqued. I, like every other warm-blooded male around these parts, pay good attention to the sports we surround ourselves with.
Meaning: I am a fan.
I’m standing on the corner of the street, looking up and down each way for the sight of her honey-gold hair to appear. There are nerves vibrating underneath my skin, and I’m dying for just a glimpse of the woman who makes my heart pound.
I am an absolute goner for the girl, and I really don’t care if everyone knows it.
This is the first time I’ve felt a real connection, one that isn’t clouded by bad judgment but one that is formed with fresh eyes.
I wasn’t desperate for a girlfriend when I saw her again, I wasn’t pining for anyone else either, I was just being…
me. Maybe, for the first time in my life with a woman, being me was enough.
“Derek!” Birdie’s voice has me whipping my head around, staring at the building we were supposed to enter. She’s standing there with a security guard, looking at me with an excited smile, and I jog toward her.
“This him?” the big-ass guard asks, looking me over with scrutiny. Six and a half feet tall with muscles that nearly bust out of the dude’s shirt, his arms are covered in black inked tattoos, and the scowl that is featured on his face is aimed right at me.
I’m so not scared of him.
“Yeah, Elias, that’s him. Don’t worry, he’s a good one.” Birdie reaches out, clasping my hand in hers and pulling me inside.
I nod at the big-ass dude—I’m serious, he’s huge—and follow Birdie. She slips me a lanyard, and I look at it, lifting my brows at the VIP written there. I look at her in question, and she shrugs sheepishly.
“I had my sister hook me up.”
“I’m okay with that,” I say quickly, slipping it around my neck and following her. There are hordes of crowds everywhere, waiting in line for beer or pretzels or nachos, all of which I fully plan to consume, though I’m not looking forward to the lines.
But we bypass those and head around a corner where Elias, aka BAB—Big-Ass Bodyguard—uses a special key to unlock an elevator.
When we’re in there, I turn to Birdie, who’s still holding tightly to my hand, and whisper, “Who are you?”
She lets out a surprisingly loud giggle, or maybe it’s the elevator amplifying it, and I smile at her, glad to see her relaxed and excited for the day like I was.
Reaching our destination, BAB lets us off the elevator and disappears behind the doors, leaving us on our own. BAB, don’t go…
Birdie seems fine with it and tugs me forward, leading me toward a door at the end of the hallway. There are a series of doors along the wall, and I can just tell we’re high up, but when we enter the room, my eyes widen at where we are.
A private box. Holy shit.
I gape a little at the sight, the glorious baseball field coming into view and stealing my breath at the same moment that someone calls out Birdie’s name, not Birdie, but Elizabeth, and she tugs me toward the woman who could be her mom’s age.
“Oh honey! Good to see you again!” The woman hugs Birdie, and I stand back, waiting for whatever interaction this is.
“You too, Mrs. Maddox,” Birdie says politely and turns to me, smiling broadly. “This is Derek. Derek, this is Dean’s mom. Remember him? He’s my sister’s biggest struggle.”
His mom snorts, finding Birdie’s ribbing funny, and shakes my hand softly. I smile politely, unsure how I came to be meeting one of the best pitchers in the league’s mother. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”
The women talk for a few more minutes, and I can’t help it, my eyes are redirected at the field again, my attention snagging on every little detail like it’s my job to report back to the boys what I see.
When they hear where I am on the best date of my life—and this is because of the woman, not the destination—they are going to be dragging every last detail from me.
Birdie finishes her conversation, and we weave around the other occupants of the box. I don’t know who they are, but I’m going to assume they are other family members or close friends with the team.
“Want a drink?” Birdie asks, leading me to the bar where she orders two beers. I grab my wallet, but she puts her hand on it. “Ah, see, one of the perks of being sisters with the PR girl is that I get to enjoy the luxuries of the box.” Then, she leans in and whispers, “Free drinks, free food.”
I lift a brow at that and grab my beer, tilting it toward hers and tapping it against it in cheers. “Birdie, you sure know how to treat a man right.”
She laughs, and we find our way back toward the window and find two available seats, watching the warm-ups begin. We showed up in time to miss the opening ceremonies for the most part, but that’s okay because my favorite part is the actual game, not the fanfare beforehand.
We settle in, and I take a deep breath. “Okay, this has to be the coolest thing I’ve ever done,” I start, staring at the woman beside me. “How did your sister pull it together?”
“Well, it was relatively easy for her, plus she loves me and knows I’m not going to be using her for this all the time.” She lifts a finger. “However, I am on an exclusive list to get season tickets.”
I shake my head. “So wait, you’re a fan of baseball?”
Hello, dream woman, it’s me, your future husband.
Birdie laughs. “I am now.” She looks at me. “I admit, I wasn’t really growing up, but ever since Hattie went to work for them, I’ve become a fan because I’ve met some of the players and their families, and their passion for it rubbed off on me.”
“That is fucking cool,” I whisper-shout, making her laugh again. “I’ve been a Cobra fan my entire life. My dad was a huge fan, and if he could see me now, sitting in a private box watching the game with the most gorgeous woman on the planet, he would buy me a drink.”
She smiles softly at me. “I do believe your dad would be proud of you, Derek. I know I didn’t know him, but what’s not to be proud of? You’re working hard, you are kind, and you’re a good friend. There are literally no faults.”
I frown, leaning back in my chair, and reaching over, she places her hand easily in mine, letting me interlace our fingers together.
“I have faults, Birdie. I’m a pain in the ass.
I make everyone’s life harder and more chaotic.
Sometimes I don’t know how to calm myself down, and I make a fool of myself before I can stop it.
I can be.” I pause, not wanting to admit it, but knowing Birdie won’t judge me. “I can be embarrassing sometimes.”
Finally, I look at her and see the most bewildered look on her face.
“Embarrassing? Derek.” She shakes her head and sits up, looking at me more head-on.
“If you were so embarrassing, your friends would not take it. They wouldn’t be singing your praises every time your back is turned, they wouldn’t tell me stories of what an amazing guy you are.
You don’t give yourself enough credit, babe. ”
Hearing the word babe come out of her mouth makes me want to press my lips to it, to hold on to this moment where the woman I’m falling—no, scratch that—the woman I have fallen for is calling me babe and saying that I’m not an embarrassment like I’ve always felt I am.
Before I can, there’s the opening pitch, and we’re distracted, our eyes, just like everyone else, redirected at the sight down on the field.
For the next couple of hours, we drink and we talk. We talk about baseball and life and Rora. I make her laugh and vice versa. We get some food and share our plates like a disgustingly in-love couple that I hope to become someday.
At one point, her sister arrives, and I stand, holding out my hand for her. “Nice to officially meet you, I’m Derek.”
She looks me up and down, blatantly checking me over. The look on her face is not flirty but scrutinizing, and she’s got her mother’s eyes, which are sharp in their assessment. “Hmm. You too. I’ve heard a lot about you from the three-foot monster at home. I’m Hattie.”
Birdie nudges her and says, “Don’t call my daughter a monster.”
“I say it with all love, you know this,” Hattie says, like it’s not the first time they’ve talked like this, smiling at her sister sweetly. She looks back at me. “I’ve also heard many, many things about you from my big sister. I hope you’re worth the hype.”
I blink in surprise that Birdie’s been talking about me. If she talks about me half as much as I think about her, she probably never shuts up. “I’m trying my best.”
She nods and smiles at someone who calls her name. “Just so you know, the rage box is going off right now if you want to watch with a little more excitement.”
“The rage box?” I ask with a lifted brow, the name certainly doesn’t sound inviting.