“There’s the stand.” She gestured toward the food court, where a delicious scent of fried onions wafted through the air.

“I’ll grab a couple of sandwiches. Why don’t you get us a table?”

She went off to find them a dining space, and he discovered he could breathe again.

For now.

—

He wasn’t sure about the sandwiches: slabs of fried steak smothered in cheese and onions, all on a toasted roll. But that was what Jessica wanted, and he was determined to get back into her good graces. Glancing at the beer tap, he was surprised to see they had a few decent choices, including one called Exit 4. That had to be a reference to all of the New Jersey jokes about the turnpike, the artery that ran directly through the center of the state. He ordered two of those as well, and then returned to the picnic area.

He found her seated at a metal table, fully prepared with plastic utensils, napkins, and water. He had to smile at that; she always appeared the model of efficiency.

“God, that looks great.” Her eyes closed, and the copper lashes turned up at the corner as she inhaled the scent of the cheesesteak. “I haven’t had one of these in ages.”

“Looks like a heart attack on a plate,” he said with a grin, and then handed her a beer. “They actually had a half-decent selection. I think this one is Flying Fish’s Exit 4.”

“New Jersey does love its brewskies,” she said, taking a deep sip. “This is named for the Mount Laurel exit off the turnpike. That’s how you tell someone where in New Jersey you live.”

“Thought it was something like that. LA has some interesting beers too, but the industry’s a little younger there. Being so close to wine country, it’s taken a little longer to generate the interest in craft beers.”

He took a bite of his sandwich, and his eyes widened with surprise as she laughed. “Not bad, right?”

“It’s really good. I know now why we don’t have these in California, the land of healthy.”

“Yep, no such thing as an avocado-and-bean-sprout cheesesteak. It must’ve been cool to grow up there, though, the weather always good, Beverly Hills, movie stars. I can’t imagine.”

“Yeah, that’s part of the reason I got involved in baseball. It doesn’t rain much, and doesn’t get cold, so there are lots of opportunities to play. My father was in the minors, and really had a big influence on me that way.”

“Sounds like pressure,” she said between mouthfuls of meat. “I’ve been to a ton of Little League games. Some of the parents are tough.”

He was surprised by her insight. “It was. Like most kids, I wanted to please him. Thankfully, I was good at the game, and could hit. I got offered a scholarship in high school, and the rest, they say, is history.”

“Did your dad go to the games, watch you play?”

“Yeah. It was hard later, when he would critique my performance, but I learned to take what was helpful and to scrap the rest.”

Until she asked, he had almost forgotten how painful that was, how much of a failure he felt on the days he didn’t do well. His mother would stick up for him, tell his father to stop, but there was only so much she could do and he wasn’t about to hide behind her.

When he got injured, his first thought was that his father would be upset that he wasn’t playing. He didn’t consider how screwed up that was until now.

Taking another bite of the sandwich, he saw that Jessica was practically finished, and she was drinking down the suds. Gavin hid a grin. Apparently she was not self-conscious about enjoying her food, made no pretense of picking at it or sipping daintily at her beer. That, too, he found refreshing, as well as her genuine interest in him. Though they’d vowed to be friends, idly he wondered if she had ever been in love.

“So do you have a boyfriend?” He had to ask. Her face flew up and he shrugged innocently. “Just wondering.”

“No.”

He was relieved at her answer, and at the same time curious. “Ever? C’mon. A girl as pretty as you?”

She rolled her eyes as if he were joking. “I dated in college, of course. But wasn’t involved seriously until after. And in case you’re wondering about that too, it didn’t go well.”

“What happened?”

She looked directly at him and leveled him with her eyes. “He’s a baseball player.”

She didn’t say anything else; she didn’t have to. But he saw the pain in her expression, the disappointment, and the regret. He had a strange impulse to beat the hell out of the jerk who hurt her, and his hand actually fisted.

It was one thing about the sports world that he found hard to take sometimes. While he understood that temptation was everywhere, that some girls would do anything to get a player’s attention, it was the attitude of some of his teammates that annoyed him. Their massive egos demanded that they take advantage of what was offered, to use women to satisfy their own needs and then just toss them away. To make a relationship work with a ballplayer was a considerable undertaking, unless he was mature, and a decent guy.

“I’m not going to ask who he is,” he said slowly, aware that this was a sensitive topic. “But if you want to tell me, I can’t promise I won’t accidentally hit him with a line drive when I’m back in the game.”

Her laughter was warm and genuine. “I’ll keep that in mind, but I’d rather not say. You probably know him, and he’s here next week for interleague play.”

His mind ran quickly over the roster for Cleveland. He couldn’t think of anyone he could see her with, and then realized he didn’t want to. Disturbed at his thoughts, he was relieved when she continued a moment later.

“Do you believe my brother Rory asked me if I wanted to get away, crash at his place a few days?”

“And?” He didn’t say it, but it had to be bad for her brother to make her an offer like that.

“I can’t run away from him all the time. I’m a sports therapist with a team, and our paths are bound to cross. We went out for about six months last year, and I am totally over it. Besides…” She looked up at him with a smile, but it didn’t translate to her eyes. “Once you’re back, I’m counting on the Sonics to kick their ass.”

“No problem,” he said, returning the smile. But he wanted to pull her into his arms, take away the hurt, and make it all okay. Wanted to erase that glimpse of sadness, replace it with the expression he’d seen earlier when he kissed her.

“We’d better go,” she said a moment later, reaching for the foil wrappers to toss them in the trash.

As they got up from the table, he felt a sense of loss; they had briefly connected and now the connection was gone. But she was right. They had an early start the next morning, and she had things to do. For a moment, he thought of how great it would be if she were coming home with him, curling up beside him on the couch as they watched the game…

When they got to the parking lot, she turned to look at him, her hands thrust inside her pockets at the chill.

“I’m going to ask one of the assistants to work with you for a week or two.” When his brows lifted, she gave him a grin. “No, it has nothing to do with that. It’s just too risky to go back to our routine until the swelling goes down. Besides,” she said teasingly, “we can’t go shopping every day. You’d go broke.”

He nodded, but insisted on getting the door for her. “You’re sure it’s not because…”

“Yep. I’ll be there. But it just makes more sense to wait a week or so to go back to the program. Our assistant can work with you on some gentle movements.”

He didn’t quite believe her, but he couldn’t call her out on it, either. After all, it was his own fault he was in this situation, all the way around. Instead, he waited until she had driven off before starting the Jeep.

Jessica Hart was obviously looking to put some distance between them.

And that was more telling than if she’d done nothing at all.