“Getting the keys.” I scrunch up my nose. “I think it’s a nice night for a drive.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

Chase

“MS. KINCADE?”

“Yes?” I stop midway through the hotel lobby and turn to look at the desk clerk. She can’t be more than twenty, standing there with her little pregnant belly, her college textbooks cracked open, and a small wallet-sized photo of her husband in uniform taped to the edge of her computer screen. From our conversation yesterday, I know he’s currently deployed in the Middle East somewhere.

“That guy you were asking about? The baseball player? The one who pitches?”

“Ryan Camden? Yes. What about him?” She immediately has my interest. After a fruitless day yesterday asking around about him and getting nowhere, I’ll take any news I can get about his whereabouts.

Yesterday was frustrating to say the least. First, no real leads on Ryan, and then fighting my own staunch determination last night not to head to the bar—or check my phone for the hundredth time to see if Gunner had called or texted.

The worst—or my sisters might call amusing—part was that my usual chant of it’s just sex or he’s not that big of a deal, fell on my own deaf ears.

I wanted to go to the bar.

I wanted to see him again.

Because I know whatever happened to us the other night was more than sex. There was chemistry there, and I don’t have time for fucking chemistry. I have time to find Ryan, to see what happened to him and, in loose terms, take advantage of the situation for KSM’s benefit . . . and then move on.

And yet, I was surly and grumpy and even annoyed myself with it because I wanted to see him. His smile, his—

And that’s why I didn’t go.

That’s why I had to prove to myself that I didn’t need to see him. That my hours spent trying to figure out what mentorship program he worked for was simply because I needed a break in the work monotony.

I glance at the clerk’s name tag, Sara, and offer a huge smile as I wait for her to answer.

“I’m not sure what the guy’s name was, but I was driving home late last night from my mom’s house when I noticed there were lights on at the baseball field. The baby was kind of restless, kicking up a storm, and I knew if I went right home that I wouldn’t get much sleep anyway, so I figured I’d go investigate for you.”

“Wow. Okay,” I say and smile. I’m grateful for her help, but know I’m not going to haphazardly find Ryan pitching somewhere.