Page 20 of Blind Date with a #FORMERPLAYER
Levi
My gaze remains on Layla while she savors every bite of the apple pie. Her long dark lashes flutter as her eyes close, a low hum passing through her plump lips causing me to bite mine, fighting back a groan. Damn, she’s beautiful and I’m pretty sure she has no fucking idea.
Uncomfortably shifting, I attempt to redirect my thoughts. “So, since you don’t like baseball–”
Her body braces. “I never said I didn’t like baseball, but players are another story. At least when it comes to dating them.”
She’s said that more than once and it raises my hackles more every time, but not against her. It makes me want to protect her from every man who ever wronged her. Apparently her father takes the number one spot on that list, but I have a feeling it might be more than that. I’m not sure she would be willing to share details for either story, at least not yet. Either way, it makes for a higher mountain for me to climb to close the distance between us when every minute I spend with her only intrigues me more, urging me to get closer.
“Okay,” I start, dragging out the word, not wanting to hear her rejection. “I was just going to ask about your interest in working with the athletes at school. If you’re not into sports, it seems like an odd career choice.”
Her shoulders relax and she sets her fork down, wiping the corners of her mouth with a napkin and placing it on the empty plate. “Well, sometimes I think they took pity on me because I came home to help my mom when she was in an accident. I needed a job, and they hired me. Then, I just stayed.”
“Is your mom okay?”
A small smile curls her lips. “Yeah, she’s better now.”
“Good to hear. So going back to your job, I’m confused. Did you want to stay?”
She heaves a sigh. “Before coming home, I worked at an office not far from where I went to college. It was a good job, but I gave it up to come home. Here, I have my mom, my best friend, Chloe, and my brother comes home to visit when he can.”
That’s not really an answer, so I try a different approach. “Do you like working with athletes?”
“Yeah, I do. I’ve always enjoyed watching sports. It was all we had on in our house growing up, even when my dad wasn’t around. I would usually have a book with me, but I love a good game, or match, or meet, or race...”
“Even baseball?”
She giggles, the sweet sound making my hair stand on end. It’s a sound I want to hear again and again. “Even baseball,” she affirms. A small grin lights up my face, thinking about her watching me play, a wave of warmth rushing through me. “But I don’t need anyone’s help in getting a job.”
I flinch. “I’m really sorry.”
“No, I get it, but thank you for the apology.” Pausing, she holds my gaze and proclaims, “I forgive you, Levi.”
My heart squeezes. I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear her say that. “Thanks,” I rasp, my voice like gravel. Clearing mythroat, I redirect and tease, “I can work with that. So why physical therapy?”
“It always intrigued me, especially after the first time Gabe was hurt and couldn’t play. But as we got older, my brother used to get mad at me when I would analyze how someone moved and told him what they should be doing so they wouldn’t get hurt, or what they could do to be a stronger and better player, especially him.”
My eyes widen. “You can do that?”
She shrugs, her tanned cheeks heating. “Yeah, I guess, but most trainers and coaches can do that too. Right?”
“Yeah, to a point, but to do what you’re suggesting, it takes someone who’s not only smart but extremely perceptive, on top of knowing each sport.”
She shakes her head, like she’s diminishing what she can do. “Anyway, I use that kind of thinking when I work with the kids at school too. I love being able to help them and hopefully prevent them from getting hurt in the first place. The coaches probably don’t like it, and sometimes act like I don’t know what I’m talking about, but it’s because they want everything to end with them. Most of them know better.”
“It sounds like you’re doing a lot of good.”
“Thanks. I try.”
“What did your brother think when you would tell him what to do?” I ask, a grin curving my lips.
A soft smile touches her mouth, her love for her brother obvious. “Gabe eventually appreciated it and sometimes he even listened.”
“I’m always willing to listen,” I insist, trying to catch her eyes.
She tilts her head to the side and takes a moment, staring at me before asking, “Are you sure about that? If you did, we might’ve actually made it to the end of our first date.”
I wince as she hits her mark. “Yeah, but if we did, I’m not sure I would’ve been able to convince you to go on a seconddate with me.”
