limited was generous. “I feel like a record number of innings would probably have been set a long time ago. Maybe pre–World War II.”
Ronan caught a flash of surprise across Audrey’s face, a subtle quirk of her eyebrows that told him he was on the right path. He might know jack shit about baseball, but reading people was definitely one of his skills.
“I’m going to guess 1920s,” he said. It was a total stab in the dark, but Audrey’s expression was carefully arranged not to give a thing away…which in itself was giving something away. The lack of smugness told him he might be right. “Number of innings…”
Hmm. Baseball had nine innings, right? Or was it eight?
You’ll never be allowed to enter Boston ever again.
“Let’s say thirty innings, and the game was Boston versus…” Crap, what was one of older teams again? “New York.”
“Well, well, well.” Audrey bobbed her head. “Not bad for a fake professor.”
Ronan laughed. “That’s not nice.”
“Can I tell him?” Deanna asked, looking up at her sister, who nodded. “The most innings ever played in a Major League baseball game was in 1920 when Boston played twenty-six innings against Brooklyn. Although, that was the Boston Braves, not the Red Sox. And back then, Brooklyn were the Dodgers, until the team moved to L.A.”
“Wow, that’s impressive.” He blinked. “Do you like baseball?”
“Sure.” Deanna shrugged in that noncommittal way that only a teenager could. “I like hot dogs more.”
Audrey laughed. “Subtle. Okay, let’s get you some food, and then we can take our seats.”
Deanna skipped ahead and grabbed a place in the line at the hot dog stand.
“Now I have two of you quizzing me,” he said with a shake of his head as they walked slowly toward the food stands.
“You can quiz me back,” Audrey replied with a sweet smile. “Since you think I’m a trivia genius and all.”
“Challenge accepted. Figure out something that Audrey doesn’t know…” He tapped a finger to his chin, and she laughed. “How many parts of the human body are unable to heal themselves?”
She looked at him almost like she was insulted. “Depends on how you want to count them, but if we do it as a collective, then it’s one. Human teeth are the only part of the body that doesn’t repair itself.”
Damn. “Okay, don’t get too cocky. That was a warm-up question.”
Audrey’s eyes sparkled. “You’re going to have to try harder than that.”
“How many extra bones does a baby have than an adult?” he asked.
“Ooh, that’s a good one.” She sucked on her lower lip as she thought, eyes narrowed in concentration. “I feel like I read an article about this a while back. It was a lot. I know their skulls are not fully formed so there’s flexibility for the birthing process.”
“Final answer?”
“Hmmm. I feel like it’s high double-digits, in the nineties maybe.”
“It’s ninety-four. Babies have three hundred bones and adults have two-hundred and six.”
Audrey snapped her fingers in victory. “Another win for the trivia genius.”
“I was unprepared. Next time I see you, I’ll have some harder questions up my sleeve.”
“Deal.” She smiled at him in a way that made him feel warm inside. They had this connection between them—a glimmering little thread based on attraction and a mutual love of learning and knowledge. “Bring your A game next time.”
They joined Deanna, who was already ordering her hot dog—extra cheese, onions, and every sauce. She took the liberty of ordering one for her sister, too. Plus two large Cokes. He caught Audrey frowning a little out of the corner of his eye as she pulled her wallet from her bag and looked inside.
There was definitely something going on with Audrey. The comment she’d made last weekend about “playing mom” and having lots of responsibility, putting food on the table for her siblings, not working toward anything with her education…
“Deanna,” Audrey said softly, as though she didn’t want him to hear. “We shouldn’t…”
“I’ve got it.” Ronan pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and smiled at the cashier. “Could you add another dog to that order?”
“Sure.” The cashier gave him the updated amount.
“I can’t let you pay.” Audrey placed a hand on his arm, and her green eyes met his. The touch—so innocent and so human—shot sparks through him in a way that was totally out of alignment with the action. It was like his body had its awareness dialed up to a hundred, and even the smallest contact felt like fireworks. “That’s not right.”