“That your parents would want to see you? I’m certain they would,” he said. “As a matter of fact, I left a message for them earlier, telling them you were getting some extra time off so you could go. Take Monday, too, if you’d like. I’m sure they’re looking forward to it. I even made reservations for dinner tonight for the three of you.”
And I abruptly realized what he was doing. Looking around to make sure no one was close by, I leaned forward and hissed, “This is about getting me out of the way for this deal you’re doing, isn’t it. What a shitty thing to do, calling my parents, for God’s sake! Tell me you didn’t really do that.”
Parker’s face hardened. “Maybe you need to look in the mirror again,” he said, his voice low. “You’re a vulnerability I can’t afford right now.”
His frankness surprised me, draining the heat from my anger.
“The car will be here in an hour,” he said. “I want you in it. No arguments. I’ll see you Tuesday.” He stepped away and a moment later had disappeared inside the elevator.
That just pissed me off all over again. So he wanted me conveniently out of the way until after the deal was done. Whether it was for my supposed safety or because I didn’t want him to do this deal, I didn’t know. Either way, him ordering me around like that—especially after last night—rubbed me all kinds of the wrong way.
No, I wasn’t going to visit my parents—like I wanted to spend the weekend hiding my depression from my too-intuitive mother. Not gonna happen. But take off early on a gorgeous Friday afternoon? That I would do. And if I was lucky…
I pulled up the White Sox website on my computer. Yep. There was an afternoon game at three.
Logging off my computer, I grabbed my purse and hit the elevator. I had just enough time to run home, change into more appropriate clothes, and make it to the stadium.
On a whim, I called Ryker while I was waiting for the bus. We’d left things kind of shaky yesterday, but I was hoping he was around.
“I’m playing hooky from work,” I said when he answered. “There’s a White Sox game at three.”
“I’m there,” he replied.
“Okay. Meet me out front.”
Just like that, my bad mood melted away. I knew Parker would find out pretty soon that I’d dissed his car—and my mother would be none too pleased that I had to cancel—but it served him right. And if I happened to let slip that I was out with Ryker when he called (because I knew he’d call to yell at me), well, so much the better, right? All’s fair in love and war.
Being with Ryker was a relief after the emotional angst of being around Parker. He was waiting for me when I hopped off the bus, his jeans and White Sox T-shirt almost an exact duplicate of what I was wearing, only I was in cutoffs.
He grinned when he saw me, his aviator sunglasses reflecting my image when I got close enough. “Nice hat,” he said, reaching out to tweak the brim of my baseball cap. “I’m glad you called. Couldn’t have picked a better day for it.”
And it was a gorgeous day. We bought tickets in the cheap seats, hot dogs and beers, and settled in to watch the game. I’d even put mustard on my hot dog, and it tasted fabulous.
No one sat in front of us, so I stretched my legs over the back of the seat in front of me. Might as well get some sun on my legs, too, and not just my thighs.
“It’s a little hard to concentrate on the game when you do that,” Ryker said, the corner of his mouth lifting in a half-smile.
“I need to start working on my tan,” I explained. “Bikini season is just around the corner.”
His mischievous grin was full-on now, plus dimple. “Now that’s something to look forward to.”
Ryker was an incurable flirt and player, and I didn’t take half of what he said seriously, but boy could he pump up a girl’s ego. His teasing innuendos had me laughing and blushing at the same time, and it wasn’t until after the seventh inning stretch that he went somewhere I didn’t like.
“So what’s Parker up to today?” he asked. “Any word on the deal with ZNT?”
I finished chewing the handful of popcorn I was munching on. “He’s out