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He was probably speculating but he didn’t care. This whole fiasco was getting out of control. He would end it right here.

Britt lifted her chin, eyes glittering. “We’re here to cover a historical event. The Sacramento Senators, a Japanese-owned team, visiting the Seibu Rays for a three-game series. Any additional coverage adds to the human interest story, an aspect that appeals to our viewers.”

He huffed out a breath and shook his head.
Unbelievable.
Was this the same woman who’d eaten fries and debated the merits of beach vacations the night before?

“Japan and the U.S. have a long and complicated history,” Marne said. “But we’re united by our common love for baseball. The fans are eager to see a typical week in the life of American athletes living and working over here.”

“I have American teammates here. Why don’t you talk to them?” Caleb asked.

“Because they don’t—”

“Marne, please.” Britt interrupted. “Give us a minute, all right?”

“Fine. But I need you on the field in five, Britt. We still have to get a mic on you and make sure Paul’s all set.” Marne waved to Caleb. “See you later.”

Caleb gave her a curt nod.
Instagram. Hashtags. Whatever.
He didn’t like her.

“Listen, I’m sorry about all that,” Britt said. “This is news to me, too. She took one look at Tyler’s stupid picture and changed our entire production schedule.”

Caleb shifted from one foot to the other. “It’s not your fault.”

“I didn’t make him take the picture.” Britt picked at her fingernail. “But I still feel responsible for dragging you into this.”

He couldn’t decide if she was working her way toward an apology or not. “I did slug him for your benefit.”

Her pink lips quivered. “I know. And I was so worried that I forgot to thank you properly.”

“Properly?” He let his eyes linger on hers. Apologies were not her thing. He could tell.

“What I’m trying to say is that I’m sorry. Again. Marne’s behavior just now was inexcusable. Especially after you risked serious injury defending me.”

“For the second time.” He couldn’t resist slipping that one in there.

She dipped her chin and nodded. “For the second time.”

“Apology accepted.”

Britt lifted her chin, that amazing smile making an appearance and rocking his world.

“Thank you,” she said.

“You’re welcome. I’ve got to get out there.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Enjoy the game.”

She nodded. “You, too.”

He turned and jogged down the corridor, his desire to see more of that smile battling with his determination to protect his wounded heart.

Tapping her knuckles against her lips, Britt walked in a slow circle around the corridor. Scenes from the past two days flashed through her head. Okay, so they’d gotten off to a rough start. He obviously didn’t appreciate being chased down. But then they’d had dinner together and she’d recognized those unmistakable first sparks of attraction. He’d protected her—twice—from that no good Tyler Jeffries. Didn’t that mean something?

She dropped her hand and stared at the dull white ceiling. Bottom line, this relationship couldn’t happen. Timing, distance, their careers—the odds were against them. So why did the warmth of his touch when they collided a few minutes ago leave her wanting more?

She had to calm down before she walked out of the tunnel and possibly ran into him in front of his team. Not to mention the rest of the media. Even the slightest look or harmless interaction would be blown out of proportion.

She hoped one of the production assistants had culled some stats from last season on the current starters, because right now she couldn’t remember one single thing they’d reviewed in Marne’s room this morning. She needed data. Hard facts. On-base percentages, minor league records—even a tug-at-the-heartstrings special interest story. She’d take anything to fill the air time, because this was the mother of all pre-occupations and the next nine innings might be the longest of her career.

She walked to the end of the tunnel and surveyed the field. The Senators were spread across the outfield, seated in small clusters while they stretched their muscles. Tyler Jeffries jogged into her peripheral vision. She gritted her teeth.
What’s your deal, Jeffries? Are you really that bitter?
Did he follow her and Caleb last night, hoping to stir up trouble? Or was it simply bad timing? She shook her head. Maybe she’d never know. But the fact that he’d taken the picture and shared it with the world—coupled with his parting words after Caleb slugged him—left her very unsettled.

Caleb stood in the safety of the dugout, hands stuffed in the front pocket of his Rays sweatshirt as he watched the media swarm around his teammate, Yoshi Nakazaki. He’d turned an incredible double-play in the ninth inning—diving catch then rapid throw to first—depriving the Senators of a win. The series was tied 1-1. Caleb couldn’t help but smile as Yoshi stood on a makeshift stage on the third base line, patiently answering all of the questions, unfazed by the microphones and cameras thrust in his face.

“See you tomorrow.” Shin smacked him on the shoulder as he walked by. “Try to behave tonight. Don’t hit anybody.” Then he was gone, jogging up the stairs of the dugout and onto the field where he scooped up one of his sons and swung him around in a circle. Shin’s wife looked on, holding their infant daughter in her arms.

A mixture of envy and regret washed over Caleb. It had been a long time since he had a significant other waiting for him after the game. Too long.
Isn’t that the way you want it?
He shook his head. Now wasn’t the time to daydream about what might have been. Slowly, he flexed and extended his fingers, assessing his knuckles. Not too stiff. Very little swelling, thanks to Kai’s attentiveness. Maybe he’d go back to the hotel and ice it again, watch some TV and call it a night. Ben would understand if they kept things low key.

A shrill whistle captured his attention, and he surveyed the field outside the dugout. Ben waited near the third base line and motioned for Caleb to join him. Caleb hesitated.

Ben stood next to Aaron, Aaron’s wife and … Britt. She’d sat behind him in press row the entire game, making it extremely difficult for him to focus. Every time he turned and talked to his teammate, he could see that blonde hair from the corner of his eye. A few times, he’d even caught a glimpse of that adorable dimple when she smiled, making his heart—

“Hey,” Ben yelled, his hands cupped on either side of his mouth. “C’mon.”

Britt watched him now, her expression unreadable.

He was stuck. If he turned and ducked into the locker room, he’d look like a total jerk. And Ben would throttle him later. Gritting his teeth, he climbed the steps out of the dugout and joined their small circle on the field.

“Caleb, this is my wife, Heather.” Aaron slipped his arm around the petite brunette’s waist.

“Caleb Scott.” He shook her outstretched hand. “Nice to meet you, Heather.”

“You, too,” Heather said. “I remember when you played for the Phillies. It was always fun to watch you pitch.”

“Thanks.” Caleb cleared his throat. That seemed like a lifetime ago.

“So …” Ben rubbed his hands together, eyes sparkling. “Aaron and Heather said there’s a great Ramen shop nearby. I’m game. What do you think, bro?”

“Ramen?” Caleb’s visions of room service vaporized.

“Not the stuff you lived on in college, I promise.” Heather smiled. “We tried this place yesterday, and it was phenomenal.”

“It’s either Japanese noodle soup with us or a wild and crazy night of Karaoke with those jokers.” Aaron pointed to their boisterous teammates gathered nearby.

Caleb grimaced. No thanks. “I think I’ll go with noodle soup.”

“Good choice.” Aaron turned to Britt. “You’re coming, right?”

“I don’t think so. I’ve got to—”

“No fair.” Heather linked her arm through Britt’s. “You can’t desert me. I need a kindred spirit. Unless you’re going to spend the whole night talking about RBI’s, too?”

Caleb’s pulse surged in anticipation of her response. Part of him hoped she declined. Then he wouldn’t have to spend the rest of the evening battling his growing attraction toward her.

“You’re right. You definitely need back up.” Britt fixed her gaze on Caleb, a smile playing at the corners of her lips. “Never a dull moment when you hang with the Scott boys.”

He slipped away without comment, falling into step beside Ben and trying to pretend he wasn’t relieved she’d agreed to come along.

Chapter Thirteen

Britt followed Heather and Aaron across the plaza, trying to ignore the protective hand Aaron placed on his wife’s back as he ushered her through the crowd. Loneliness worked its way into her heart like an unwelcome houseguest. She looked away, admiring the food displayed in the windows they passed. The fake fare reminded Britt of the plastic entrees her niece often served from her miniature kitchen.

I’ll be home soon, Lexie.

“Edgar Ramen?” Ben studied the sign over the door. “Are you sure about this?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Aaron stopped and smiled. “The owner’s a guy from New York City. You’ve gotta try these noodles, dude. Crazy good.”

Caleb stood beside Britt. His arm brushing against hers did strange things to her insides. She’d waited with Ben and Heather while the guys showered after the game. Caleb had changed into dark-washed jeans and a gray T-shirt, with a blue and gray plaid button-down layered over it.
No jacket.
Apparently she was on her own if she got cold. Neither one of them had breathed a word of their conversation before the game. But she’d thought of little else the whole time she sat behind him tonight.

“Britt?” Caleb spoke to her for the first time since they left the Dome. “Are you coming?”

She looked up to see that everyone else had gone inside. Caleb held the door for her. “Yes, of course.”

The noodle shop was crowded, with men lined up on stools at the stainless steel counter. They sat with their torsos curving toward their bowls and chopsticks poised to deliver another heap of noodles to their mouths. A symphony of slurps punctuated the low hum of conversation coming from the dining room. Britt couldn’t help but laugh.

“Wow,” Caleb said. “They take this noodle business seriously.”

Waiters in silky black shirts draped over black trousers moved briskly from behind the counter toward the rectangular tables spread across the dining room.

Aaron shook hands with a lanky American man wearing a vintage Orange Crush T-shirt and faded Levi’s. “We brought friends this time,” Aaron said.

“Hi, everybody. I’m Edgar. Come on in. I can seat you right over here.” The man welcomed them with a casual smile, his accent indicating his history in the northeastern United States.

Edgar led them to the far side of the restaurant, where Aaron and Heather claimed one side of the table, while Ben quickly nabbed the single seat at the end. Britt sat opposite Heather, leaving Caleb with the only remaining vacant seat next to Britt. Well. How about that.

“Tokyo’s craft beer scene is pretty hot right now. I’ve got a pale ale on tap tonight, if anybody’s interested?” Edgar rubbed his hands together.

“I could go for a beer right about now,” Caleb said.

Everyone else murmured in agreement.

“We’re all in,” Ben said.

“Excellent. I’ll be right back.” Edgar moved toward the bar.

Aaron handed them each a menu. “They top most of the noodles with this amazing pork, but if that’s not your thing, there’s a vegetarian option that Heather thought was pretty good.”

“If you’d like a little heat, there’s a Thai-infused dish that the waiter recommended yesterday,” Heather suggested.

“That’s what you should order, Caleb.” Ben eyed his twin over the top of his menu. “You need a little heat in your life. Spice things up a bit.”

Britt snuck a peek at Caleb. A muscle in his jaw twitched.
Oh boy.

Heather set down her menu, eyes sparkling. “Well, now. It sounds like there’s a story here. Care to elaborate?”

“He’s entitled to his opinion.” Caleb kept his head down, deeply engrossed in his ramen options.