Rhys shrugs. “If you want to. I’m just enjoying the walk with a beautiful woman.”
He’s holding my hand, and when we have to push our way through a crowd, he simply rests his hand on the small of my back, or my ass, to let me know he’s right behind me.
The man is forever touching me.
And I freaking love it.
Instead of leading him to the cathedral, I lead him down Royal Street, away from the heart of the Quarter. There are so many amazing art galleries and shops on this street. It’s one of my favorites.
One boutique in particular catches my eye, and I pause to stare in the window.
“I have a soft spot for pretty things,” I say softly.
“What do you see that you like?” Rhys asks. I shrug my shoulder, then point at a simple silver chain with an amethyst pendant.
“That’s pretty.”
And then I begin to walk away, ready to look into the next window, and feel Rhys behind me. We pause to watch some street performers, who secretly give me the willies. I mean, it’s weird that some guy is dressed like a transformer, driving on the street, then stands up.
How does someone fall into that line of work?
“I’ll be right back. I need a bathroom.” Rhys kisses my cheek.
“I’ll be here,” I reply and toss him a smile over my shoulder as he walks away. Afraid that Mr. Transformer is going to decide to drive right up to me and freak me out, I return to the sidewalk and admire the art in the window there. The colors are bright, too bright for my home, but it’s interesting.
“Art lover?” Rhys asks as he joins me.
“I appreciate art,” I reply, still thoughtfully staring at the piece in the window. “I would never buy this, though.”
“Me neither,” he replies with a smile.
“Wow, are you Rhys O’Shaughnessy?” Two teenage boys have approached us. They’re obviously brothers, with their matching red hair and blue eyes. The older one is wearing a Cubs T-shirt.
“Baseball fans,” Rhys replies with a grin. “I am, yes.”
“Wow, I’m your biggest fan,” the older boy says and offers his hand for Rhys to shake. “You’re awesome. Why aren’t you playing this season?”
“I’m getting my shoulder back in shape, man. I’ll be back in the spring.”
“Awesome!”
“Maybe you just play for the wrong team,” the younger brother says. “I’m a Cardinals fan.”
“Nah,” Rhys replies with a good-natured laugh. “I think you just root for the wrong team.”
“No way!”
“Hey,” the older one says as he pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Can we get a picture? My friends won’t believe this!”
“Sure.”
“I’ll take it,” I offer, reaching for the phone. Rhys stands between the boys, one hand on each of their shoulders, and smiles widely for the picture.
“Thanks so much!”
“Yeah,” the younger brother adds, “you’re pretty cool. For a Cub.”
“You’re welcome.”
I’m quiet as we walk away. I’m so impressed with him! This is exactly why Sam and all of his fans love him so much. He’s approachable. He’s friendly.
“You’re quiet,” he murmurs beside me. “Talk to me.”
“I’m so proud of you,” I reply honestly. “You were great with those kids.”
He looks surprised for a moment, and then chuckles. “You surprise me.”
“Why?”
“I thought you’d decided that it was weird, and you were trying to figure out a way to tell me to get lost.”
“Nah, there would be other reasons to tell you to get lost. Being loved by teenage boys everywhere isn’t one of them.”
“Good to know.” He steers me around a group of people standing on the corner, talking and laughing. “I seriously love my job, Gabby.”
“I can tell. What do you love about it? I’m really interested..”
“It’s an honor. And I don’t mean that to sound as trite as it does. I’m a part of the all-American sport. There’s nothing more American than apple pie and baseball.”
“Do you like apple pie?” I ask.
“Doesn’t everyone?”
“Point taken.”
He takes my hand in his, links our fingers, and kisses my knuckles before continuing.
“I can’t describe what it feels like to stand on that mound, with sixty thousand fans in the stands, whether they’re rooting for our team, or the opposing team, to hear them cheer. It’s humbling. It’s amazing.”
“You’ve done it a long time. Not many people can say they’ve played professional baseball.”
“True.” He nods. “I think it’s why I’m so stubborn about this shoulder injury. I know that at thirty, I only have a few years left in me. Most pitchers don’t play past my age. It’s a physically demanding sport. But I’ll be damned if this shoulder is the reason I can’t play anymore. I want to end my career on my terms. I’m not an idiot. I’m not going to play until I’m crippled. But I want to say when it’s over. Does that make sense?”
“It does.” I kiss his bicep and then rub it with my free hand. “It makes perfect sense.”
“Do you like baseball?”
“Meh.” I purse my lips and shrug. “It’s okay. I really love MMA fighting.”
He’s holding my hand, and when we have to push our way through a crowd, he simply rests his hand on the small of my back, or my ass, to let me know he’s right behind me.
The man is forever touching me.
And I freaking love it.
Instead of leading him to the cathedral, I lead him down Royal Street, away from the heart of the Quarter. There are so many amazing art galleries and shops on this street. It’s one of my favorites.
One boutique in particular catches my eye, and I pause to stare in the window.
“I have a soft spot for pretty things,” I say softly.
“What do you see that you like?” Rhys asks. I shrug my shoulder, then point at a simple silver chain with an amethyst pendant.
“That’s pretty.”
And then I begin to walk away, ready to look into the next window, and feel Rhys behind me. We pause to watch some street performers, who secretly give me the willies. I mean, it’s weird that some guy is dressed like a transformer, driving on the street, then stands up.
How does someone fall into that line of work?
“I’ll be right back. I need a bathroom.” Rhys kisses my cheek.
“I’ll be here,” I reply and toss him a smile over my shoulder as he walks away. Afraid that Mr. Transformer is going to decide to drive right up to me and freak me out, I return to the sidewalk and admire the art in the window there. The colors are bright, too bright for my home, but it’s interesting.
“Art lover?” Rhys asks as he joins me.
“I appreciate art,” I reply, still thoughtfully staring at the piece in the window. “I would never buy this, though.”
“Me neither,” he replies with a smile.
“Wow, are you Rhys O’Shaughnessy?” Two teenage boys have approached us. They’re obviously brothers, with their matching red hair and blue eyes. The older one is wearing a Cubs T-shirt.
“Baseball fans,” Rhys replies with a grin. “I am, yes.”
“Wow, I’m your biggest fan,” the older boy says and offers his hand for Rhys to shake. “You’re awesome. Why aren’t you playing this season?”
“I’m getting my shoulder back in shape, man. I’ll be back in the spring.”
“Awesome!”
“Maybe you just play for the wrong team,” the younger brother says. “I’m a Cardinals fan.”
“Nah,” Rhys replies with a good-natured laugh. “I think you just root for the wrong team.”
“No way!”
“Hey,” the older one says as he pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Can we get a picture? My friends won’t believe this!”
“Sure.”
“I’ll take it,” I offer, reaching for the phone. Rhys stands between the boys, one hand on each of their shoulders, and smiles widely for the picture.
“Thanks so much!”
“Yeah,” the younger brother adds, “you’re pretty cool. For a Cub.”
“You’re welcome.”
I’m quiet as we walk away. I’m so impressed with him! This is exactly why Sam and all of his fans love him so much. He’s approachable. He’s friendly.
“You’re quiet,” he murmurs beside me. “Talk to me.”
“I’m so proud of you,” I reply honestly. “You were great with those kids.”
He looks surprised for a moment, and then chuckles. “You surprise me.”
“Why?”
“I thought you’d decided that it was weird, and you were trying to figure out a way to tell me to get lost.”
“Nah, there would be other reasons to tell you to get lost. Being loved by teenage boys everywhere isn’t one of them.”
“Good to know.” He steers me around a group of people standing on the corner, talking and laughing. “I seriously love my job, Gabby.”
“I can tell. What do you love about it? I’m really interested..”
“It’s an honor. And I don’t mean that to sound as trite as it does. I’m a part of the all-American sport. There’s nothing more American than apple pie and baseball.”
“Do you like apple pie?” I ask.
“Doesn’t everyone?”
“Point taken.”
He takes my hand in his, links our fingers, and kisses my knuckles before continuing.
“I can’t describe what it feels like to stand on that mound, with sixty thousand fans in the stands, whether they’re rooting for our team, or the opposing team, to hear them cheer. It’s humbling. It’s amazing.”
“You’ve done it a long time. Not many people can say they’ve played professional baseball.”
“True.” He nods. “I think it’s why I’m so stubborn about this shoulder injury. I know that at thirty, I only have a few years left in me. Most pitchers don’t play past my age. It’s a physically demanding sport. But I’ll be damned if this shoulder is the reason I can’t play anymore. I want to end my career on my terms. I’m not an idiot. I’m not going to play until I’m crippled. But I want to say when it’s over. Does that make sense?”
“It does.” I kiss his bicep and then rub it with my free hand. “It makes perfect sense.”
“Do you like baseball?”
“Meh.” I purse my lips and shrug. “It’s okay. I really love MMA fighting.”
