“I’m sorry, Miss,” the hostess says.

“No, it’s okay,” I tell her. “I can pose for a quick picture.”

The woman shoves her phone into the hand of her daughter who looks mortified. “Mo-om,” she whines.

“Just take the picture, honey. Your father will be sorry he was late.” She turns to me. “He’s your biggest fan.”

The girl takes our picture and then we continue to our table, loud whispers of recognition from restaurant patrons following us as we walk.

“I don’t mind being recognized,” I tell Aspen. “I just don’t want to be mobbed. Don’t worry, you’ll see the difference when we leave.” I nod back to the woman. “That was nothing.”

“Great,” she mumbles. “I can’t wait.”

Chapter Twelve

Aspen

I’m relieved to see Murphy and Caden sitting at the table already. Caden stands up and kisses my cheek.

I find it interesting that they are all treating me like I’m actually Sawyer’s girlfriend. Well, all but Sawyer, that is. Because I’m not. So he shouldn’t.

But still, it’s nice that his friends are being so accommodating and supportive.

“Did you get spotted yet?” Murphy asks me.

“There weren’t any photographers out front, if that’s what you mean.”

She nods to the people in the restaurant behind us who are staring at our foursome. “There will be.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Caden says. “You’ll do fine. Just like you did the other night.”

I shake my head. “I thought it was all over when Conner sent me a drink. I ran into him outside the bar before I went in. And then when I saw he was with you, I about died.”

“It’s a good thing those girls came over when they did,” Sawyer says.

“I sent them.”

“You did?”

“I promised them each a drink if they would distract Conner. I’m sure they would have gone over to you guys anyway. I guess they were just waiting for the right moment.”

“Good thinking,” Murphy says. “You’re better at this than you think you are.”

The waitress comes over to take our drink order. She fawns over Caden and Sawyer.

Fawns over.

That’s what I’m supposed to be doing. And he’s paying me a lot of money to do it. After the waitress leaves, I glance around to see that people are still watching, so I give Sawyer my most seductive look while biting the edge of my lower lip.

He gives me his sexy half-smile and moves his chair closer to mine, draping his arm across my bare shoulders.

Murphy appraises us thoughtfully. “You two make a very attractive couple.”

“That’s what Bass said,” I tell her.

“He said we make a hot couple,” Sawyer says.

“He didn’t say that, you did. But either way, same difference.”

“It’s not actually,” he says. “Two ordinary-looking people can make an attractive couple. Two good-looking people like us, make a hot one.”

“I don’t recall the contract saying anything about not bitch-slapping you when you say stupid things.”

“No. No, it didn’t. That’s a different kind of contract. But I’m sure if that’s what you’re into, we could have Sarah write something up.”

“Oh, my God. You’re incorrigible,” I say, laughing.

“Yeah, but you like it. In an I’m-paying-you-a-shitload-of-money kind of way.”

I roll my eyes at him.

“So, are you excited to go to the games?” Murphy asks.

“I guess so. I’m sure the more I learn about baseball, the more exciting it will be. Bass, on the other hand, is simply beside himself. He can’t wait to go.” I turn to Sawyer. “When exactly are we supposed to start coming?”

The three of us look at Murphy. She seems to have all the answers when it comes to our arrangement.

“I think you should wait another week or two. Wait until the pictures have come out. If you’re seen at the games before your relationship is established, you might be pegged as just another groupie. It will help his reputation the most if you are seen as someone who didn’t go after him because he’s famous. Believe me, the public will accept you more if they think you’re a nice girl who he met outside of his profession.”

“Is that how the two of you met?” I ask her.

“Yes and no,” she says, laughing. “You really don’t follow baseball, do you?”

I shrug. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Murphy says. “I didn’t follow it myself until I met Caden. We met because of baseball, but not by choice. His home run ball hit me.” She points to a scar under her eye. “I have a metal plate where my cheekbone is. It messed me up pretty badly.”

“Oh, no!”

Caden smiles and puts a hand on Murphy’s arm. “And I went to the hospital thinking I’d hit some guy named Murphy. Imagine my surprise when a beautiful woman was lying in the hospital bed.”

“Ha! Beautiful my ass,” Murphy says. “I was hideous. My cheek had swollen to the size of a grapefruit.”

“I love this story,” I say. “It’s like a fairy tale. Did you ask her out right then?”

“No,” he says. “It was months before we started dating. But we did immediately become friends.”

“Friends?” Sawyer says. “They were practically joined at the hip – in a very non-sexual, non-fun way.”

“I guess we both felt something from the beginning,” Murphy says, looking at Caden with admiration. “But it took us a while to realize it.”

We have drinks and dinner, being interrupted a few times by people at nearby tables wanting a picture or an autograph. Sawyer keeps some kind of contact with my skin the entire time he’s not eating. He puts his hand on mine, clasping them together up on the table for everyone to see. Or he has his arm around me. He even leaned in and kissed my cheek once.

Every touch has my breath hitching. And every hitch of my breath gets me angry. Angry, because even if I weren’t being paid to be here, even if his touches and his looks and his kisses were genuine, he’d still be an arrogant ball player. He’s not anything like the guy I met that first night. I have to keep reminding myself that this is the real Sawyer, not that one.

“When will you two go out again?” Murphy asks. “We should start planning it.”

Caden laughs. “Sweetheart, I think you’re getting into this just a little too much.”

“No way,” Murphy says. “I’m having a lot of fun. And Rylee will kill us if we don’t bring her and Brady along next time. She was bummed they couldn’t come tonight.”

“I don’t know,” I say. “I guess it depends on when they go out of town next.”

“Tomorrow,” Sawyer says.

“Tomorrow? But you just got back this morning.”

“Nature of the business,” he says. “We play half of our games on the road. Sometimes we don’t even get to come home for a week at a time. We were lucky to have a day off today.”

“Do you play every day?” I ask.

“Not every day, but most days. We play one hundred and sixty-two games a season.”

My jaw drops. “I had no idea you play that much. Don’t football games only happen once a week? Why do you play ten times more?”

“It’s the great American pastime, baby,” Sawyer says. “Baseball, hot dogs and apple pie.”

“Football is a different beast,” Caden tells me. “It’s much harder on the body. They need a week to recover.”

“Do people actually go to all your games?” I ask. “How do they have the time? Uh … you don’t expect me to go to all of them, do you? I mean, the contract says one game a week.”

“Nobody goes to all of them,” Murphy says. “I’m sure if you go to a game a week, that will be fine.”

“But you have season tickets,” Sawyer says. “You know, in case you wanted to come to more.”

Caden and Murphy laugh and give each other a look.

“I guess we’ll see. But if I can’t go, is it okay if Bass takes a friend?”

“Of course. The tickets are for both of you, not just you. He can take whoever he likes, as long as he doesn’t say anything about how he got them.”

“You don’t have to worry about him saying a word. He’d do anything for me.”

“Is that so?” he says.

“Your bill, sir,” the waitress says, handing Sawyer the check. “And just so you know, there is quite a crowd gathering out front. Would you like us to fetch you a cab and have it waiting?”

“Yes. We’ll need two cabs please,” Sawyer says, as he puts enough cash in the sleeve to pay my utility bill, cable bill and phone bill combined.

“Our pleasure,” the waitress says before leaving.

Sawyer turns to me. “Here we go. You ready?”

“Do I look okay?” I ask Murphy.

“You look stunning,” she says. “Doesn’t she look great, Sawyer?”

“I told her that when I picked her up.”

Murphy gives him a disapproving look. “That doesn’t mean you can’t tell her again, you baboon.”

Caden looks sternly at Sawyer. I get the idea Sawyer could learn a thing or two from him.

Sawyer holds up his hands in surrender. “Geez, yeah, she looks great.” He turns to me. “You look great. Can we go now?”

Caden shakes his head and closes his eyes. Maybe he thinks Sawyer is a lost cause. Maybe he is. But part of me thinks Sawyer must be the way he is because of something that happened to him. Maybe he had a bad breakup. Maybe he was dumped by his high school sweetheart and now he never lets himself get close to anyone for fear of getting hurt.