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     while one of his teammates wrangled his toddler son, and his wife picked up toys.
    Liza glanced behind her and caught sight of him. She stood, looking self-conscious and pretty damn hot , and gave him a shy smile.
    Cole made his way past the chattering family, kind of nervous about how this was going
     to go, but confident he could pull it off now that he had a second chance.
    She had her phone in hand and she tipped it toward him. “Nice tweet.”
    “You saw the newspaper, I guess.”
    She nodded, gazing at him with those pale green eyes.
    “Sorry if it embarrassed you,” he said sincerely.
    “What do you mean ‘if’?” She smiled brightly, and it calmed his nerves a little.
    He rolled his eyes. “I’m glad you came,” he said.
    She smoothed her hands down the front of her faded jeans—they fit just as well or
     better than the black ones she’d worn last night—and tucked her hands into the pockets
     of her red zip-up hoodie. His gaze lingered on her snug, white V-neck tee. “And dressed
     like a Nats fan, too.”
    She blushed and gave her outfit a once-over. “Totally unintentional.”
    Again, he felt guilty about involving her in Frank’s scheme. She had shown up and worn his team’s colors. For some reason it reminded him of when she’d hung out and
     watched him at baseball camp.
    “What made you change your mind?” he asked.
    She lifted one shoulder. “The tweet you sent last night. The hot dog I had during
     the game was cooked perfectly.” She grinned.
    Cole flattened his hand against his chest, pretending to be wounded. “You mean it
     wasn’t my irresistible charm and wit?”
    She shook her head, looking coy. “But that was a pretty impressive double you hit.”
    He scrunched his nose. “I was aiming for the parking lot.”
    “You used to say that at baseball camp.” She smiled. “Even though there wasn’t a parking
     lot anywhere near the diamond.”
    “But there was a parking lot somewhere,” he teased.
    “I say take what good you can get, and next time make it better,” she said. “Cheesy,
     huh?”
    He kind of liked the way she came up with things that made him think. It was more
     than he could say for most of the girls he’d dated. “Sounds like something a coach
     would say.”
    “I got it from my dad—heard it about a million and twelve times when I was growing
     up.” She cocked her head. “I’m surprised he didn’t use it on you baseball-campers,
     too.”
    Cole tensed. “Maybe he did,” he said flatly. “But that’s a long time and a lot of
     coaches ago.”
    Liza winced at his tone, and Cole checked himself. She didn’t seem to have a clue
     how her father had hurt him and shattered his confidence—something all those coaches
     had worked to undo. John Sutherland had become co-owner of the Orioles while Cole
     played at UNC. He had followed Cole’s progress and built up his hopes of being drafted
     by the Orioles, assuring Cole there was a behind-the-scenes deal going on and that
     it was a sure thing. John and Sylvia had become surrogate parents to him over the
     years, and he was nearly as excited about being “officially” associated with them
     as he was about playing for the Orioles. But at the last minute, the Nationals had
     drafted him. Sutherland had given him some lame excuse about the draft being unpredictable,
     and claimed the Nationals had picked him up before the Orioles had the chance. Soon
     after that, John and Sylvia had drifted out of Cole’s life, his confidence was shot,
     and his troubles in baseball began. But that was the last thing he planned to admit
     to Liza right now, if she hadn’t figured it out herself.
    He reached out and pulled one of the strings of her hoodie, just as he’d done last
     night with a lock of her hair. “Let’s get out of here. I’ve got a surprise for you.”
    But Cole was the one who was surprised. He couldn’t believe how happy he was that
     he had another date with her.

Chapter