to do it. In fact, she’d contemplated canceling on the exhibition match tonight so she could catch up with housework—since the place was starting to look like a dump site—but Deanna had been so excited she hadn’t found it in herself to say no.
Hence, her clueless little sister had tried to bleed her dry at the hot dog stand, which made Ronan step up to pay and left Audrey feeling embarrassed and…grateful. She didn’t like feeling grateful, because that felt a whole lot like she owed someone something, and Audrey didn’t like being in anyone’s debt.
“I like the pink passion mochas at Kisspresso,” Deanna said, her face brightening. “But Audrey says I can’t have them too often.”
“Too much sugar. This”—Audrey gestured to the Coke that looked almost as big as Deanna’s head—“is a special treat.”
Rolling her eyes, her sister took a long slurp from her drink, as if trying to prove a point. Audrey let it slide. She had bigger things to worry about—namely the fact that Ronan was probably wondering why in the hell she’d prevented him from telling Deanna that he was her professor.
Hers.
The word circled in her head like a vulture.
But her thoughts were cut off by the raucous cheer from the hometown fans. The Flames mascot, a guy dressed in an unfortunate skintight red suit with a wig made to look like flames, was leading Lily around the field to signal that the game would be underway soon.
“That’s a brave man right there,” Ronan said with a shudder. “You could not pay me enough.”
“Because of the suit or the llama?” Audrey bit into her hot dog and chewed, happy for the distraction from more dangerous topics of conversation.
“Both. One, there’s no way I’m getting near that creature again unless absolutely necessary. Two, it would take a lot of money for me to put my junk on display.” He cleared his throat. “Not that I’m ashamed of what God gave me.”
Oh lord. Audrey did not need to be thinking about anything that God gave Ronan Walsh below the belt. Trying to combat the sudden rise in her body temperature, she pressed the Coke cup to her cheek.
Ice cubes, work your magic. Now, please.
But Ronan was clearly determined to backtrack, his cheeks suddenly as red as hers.
“I mean, any man would feel uncomfortable having it all hang out in front of an audience, regardless of size.” He cleared his throat. “I’m going to stop now.”
“Please,” Audrey said, half mortified and half trying not to choke on the laugh she was holding back.
“I usually have better social skills than this,” he muttered. “I swear there’s something about you that turns me into a babbling fool.”
Her heart skipped a beat. She made him turn into a babbling fool? Surely it was the other way around. There was no way Ronan could be attracted to her the way she was attracted to him. And it wasn’t because Audrey didn’t think she was attractive. She had confident days and those where she avoided the mirror, like any other woman.
But this didn’t have anything to do with looks. It was everything else. Why would a professor with his pedigree be interested in a worker bee with no future?
“So, what’s the story with the Flames?”
Thank God, a change of topic. “They’re good. They made it to the College World Series a couple years ago, and they’re hoping to have a shot at it again this season. Last season, they had a few unfortunate injuries that let them down. But they’ve got an amazing pitcher they think could make the majors and a promising first baseman from a prospect camp a few years ago. We’ve been waiting for him to start.”
“Oh, that Jackson guy?” Deanna let out a big sigh. “All the girls at school totally stan him.”
Ronan’s brow wrinkled, and he leaned closer to Audrey. “Stan?”
She laughed. “It means he has lots of fans.”
“Apparently his Instagram is almost at ten thousand.” Deanna munched on her hot dog. “That’s a lot.”
There was more action on the field as the players started filing out, an announcer calling names from both teams and inviting the crowd to cheer. The stands were getting fuller, and someone squished themselves down next to Ronan with a friendly “’scuse me,” forcing him to move closer to Audrey.
“Your sister makes me feel old,” Ronan joked. “And apparently I’m supposed to be a millennial.”
“How old are you?”
“Thirty-four.”
“That’s young for a professor, especially one who taught at Cambridge.” Like she needed to be any