On the Shore (Cottonwood Cove, #3)(18)
“I got you, man. I appreciate it. I will make sure she gets home safely.”
“Great. Thanks.”
“Yeah, of course. And I see you ordering from here every night, Captain.” He barked out a laugh. “But you do know that you’re welcome to come eat here, right? Brinkley can’t ban you from the restaurant.”
“Sure. Next time I’ll grab a table.”
“All right, have a good night. Looking forward to seeing where you play next season.”
“You and me both. Your sister will be the first to know.” I held up a hand and waved before heading to the door.
“See you later, Abraham Lincoln,” the hostess called after me, and I shook my head before exiting the restaurant.
I didn’t mind that she didn’t have a fucking clue who I was. I actually kind of liked it.
I liked this town.
And the fact that I was just another guy here.
When I got home, there was a message from Drew, telling me that he was getting pressure about when I’d have my decision. If I knew where I wanted to play, I’d tell him. I just wasn’t there yet.
Working on it, brother. I’m going to let Brinkley Reynolds shadow me for the next few weeks and tell my story. She’ll break the news about where I’m playing, as well. But I will have boundaries about what I’m willing to share. The whole fucking world doesn’t need to know every detail of my life.
Drew
You are a fucking softy, aren’t you?
<middle finger emoji>
I sat down and pulled out my dinner and put on ESPN. There were four guys discussing my future as if we were personal friends. I listened as they weighed out my options, and I shook my head with disbelief as one of the dudes said that he was pretty certain that I was staying in San Francisco. He said that he had a valuable source.
Who the fuck was his source? Because I’d love to talk to them, as well.
I didn’t know where I was going, so there was no source that had that answer.
And as soon as I had it, I was going to give it to Brinkley Reynolds.
This would be my way of making amends.
I’d been the reason that she’d lost her job, whether I wanted to admit it or not. And now, she’d get to break this story, and it would be a good way for her to get her foot in the door at another magazine.
It was the right thing to do.
Even if it would pain me to have someone hanging around, asking me questions every day.
I was getting ready for bed and picked up my phone to text her.
Hey. Let’s meet at 7:00 a.m. down by the cove. Are you up for a four-miler?
The three little dots moved around the screen, and I found myself staring impatiently, waiting for her answer.
B.R.
Captain, is this you?
Are you meeting someone else for a run tomorrow morning?
B.R.
Obviously not. But you could learn some manners about texting someone for the first time. So, let’s go over how this will work. How long are you going to let me shadow you?
Are you home yet?
I didn’t know why I asked. Why I cared. But I needed to know before I answered her question.
B.R.
Yes, I’m home. Thanks for going to my brother and asking him to follow me, by the way.
You’re welcome. I can’t tell you my story if you aren’t around to hear it.
B.R.
So, now Breen Lockhart is a murderer?
Who knows what that dickhead is capable of.
B.R.
Well, so far… great conversation. Flirty banter. And he bought me dinner. What a bastard.
He’s probably fucking your server behind the restaurant because you didn’t go home with him.
B.R.
You’re such an asshole.
I’ve been called worse.
B.R.
So, what’s the plan? I run a few miles with you, and you’ll tell me where you’re going to play next season?
In your dreams.
B.R.
Let me guess. You’re going to waste my time? Shocker.
I don’t know where I’m going to play yet. That’s the honest truth. Take it or leave it. You can ask me other questions until I figure it out. I thought you wanted the whole story.
B.R.
What am I allowed to ask?
Whatever you want.
B.R.
Really? You’re going to tell me whatever I want to know?
No. I said you could ask me whatever you want. I’ll answer what I want to answer. Tomorrow. 7:00 a.m.
B.R.