Page 36 of Hiding in the Outfield

His blue eyes fall.

I lean forward quickly. “I am okay with seeing you. Just Maddy never let me know you were here. I don’t know what he’s about with that.”

Jackson’s shoulders soften.

I turn all the way to face him, and Jackson’s jaw drops. He’s at my bedside before I can even blink.

“Oh my God. Your face, Frankie,” he says hoarsely.

Well. That’s insulting.

“What a way to greet a man,” I joke lightly. “I know I look like someone tried to inflate the left side of my face like a Macy’s Day Parade balloon, but you could at least pretend I don’t look like an ogre.”

He brushes off my words, his stare locked on my face. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he whispers absently. “You’re still the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”

Oh. Well, then. That was quite nice.

I don’t think he even realizes what he just said. He’s too busy gaping in wide-eyed horror at my face. It’s so ugly right now. Honestly, it looks way worse than it is. I look like I just got out of an MMA ring.

While he’s occupied with being horrified, I take in what he’s brought with him. Flowers. I tilt my head. Wilted and slightly crushed flowers. My lips twitch. I think that makes the gesture even sweeter. I don’t think this jock-boy knows what he’s doing, but he’s trying. My attention slides to…a milkshake and fries?

“You plan to eat your lunch with me?” I ask, pointing to my nightstand where he placed the food.

He clears his throat, and red blooms on his cheeks. “Ah, those aren’t for me. I, uh…well, I heard about your injuries. I read up on cheek fractures, and it said you might not be able to chew? So, I brought you a milkshake. Chocolate, because you seemed like a chocolate kinda guy. I also brought fries, because they’re kind of soft?”

“Well, slap my ass and call me Sally,” I whisper.

He blinks at me, his mouth opening and closing. “Um. What?”

I chuckle. “That’s incredibly sweet and thoughtful, Jackson. Thank you. I couldn’t chew at first, but I can handle soft things now. And, yes, chocolate is my milkshake flavor of choice. Ain’t nothing vanilla about Frankie, not even my milkshakes.” I wink.

His lips curve into a small smile, and he peeks at me beneath his lashes.

I reach for the milkshake and play with the straw.

His gaze drops to it, and he frowns. “Do you need a spoon? Is sucking too hard for you right now?”

Amusement erupts in my chest, and I have no idea how I keep it inside. He’s dead serious too, completely unaware of the innuendo in his question.

“Jackie-babe.” My words shake lightly. “I can handle the straw. A big man like you, on the other hand?” I sweep my gaze down him. “I think it might be a little while until I’m ready to handle what you’re packing, love.”

His jaw hits the floor. I mean, not literally, but might as well have. Think it unhinged. I force back my smile—it still hurts if I smile too wide.

Oh dear, he’s turning the same shade of red as my Louboutins. I don’t think there’s anything sexier than when a big jock-boy blushes. Yum.

“Sorry, I’ll tone it down,” I offer. “I figured a jock like you is used to that kind of joking around.”

His gaze flicks to mine. “Um, yeah. Locker room is pretty much full of that. It’s different, though.”

I move the flowers he got me. “Thank you for these, by the way.”

His gaze flits away. “I know they’re nothing special. I should have found a florist.”

He sits in the open space on my bed I just made and drops his head in his hands with a groan. “I’m totally botching this.”

He’s really not. I grab the milkshake and take a sip. He’s struggling because he cares. Every second since he’s shown up in my doorway has been authentic. Anyone can wrap up an apology with pretty words and expensive presents. Trust me, I would know.

Those apologies are empty.