Champagne Brunch: The Stiletto Sisters Series by Ainsley Claire (easy readers .txt) 📗

and it sounds positively sultry. “I think I understand. I hope I get to meet him. What did you say his name was?”

“His racing name was So Be It, but I call him SoBe. He’s what they call a tuxedo greyhound—all black with a white chest and front paws.”

“I hope you have some pictures. I can’t wait to meet him.”

“Do you have any animals?”

“I do, but don’t tell anyone, because she’s not allowed in California.” Mia whispers so it sounds like a secret.

My eyes go wide. “Do you have an exotic pet?”

“I guess some would think so, but she’s just a hedgehog. I call her Nuzzle.”

“That’s really cool. Is she friendly?”

“With me, yes. With newcomers less so. But she loves baths and enjoys being held.”

“Well, I hope to meet her.”

There’s so much more I want to ask Mia, but I’d rather do that over drinks. Instead, I confirm. “Okay, so you’re good to join me for the games in San Diego?”

“Hell yeah. I mean, the chance to be there when Jeremy breaks the record would be phenomenal.”

“Will you text me the address where you want me to pick you up?”

“Well, do you still have my card?”

“I do.” I can see the embossed cupid where I propped it on my desk.

“My office address is on there,” she says. “If you call when you’re downstairs, I can come meet you.”

“Perfect. I’ll confirm with Nate, but I’ll think see you tomorrow about noon?”

“Sure. Nate will probably have lunch on the plane for us.”

“Oh, okay. Sounds good.”

We hang up, and I text Nate immediately. This is for sure the craziest first date I’ve ever been part of.

Chapter 6

Mia

Midday on Thursday, as I’m finishing up my work day, which began at five a.m., my cell phone pings.

Axel: We’re five minutes away.

I do a little happy dance. We’re going to San Diego! If this guy’s a dud—which I’m almost positive he won’t be—at least I can hang with my friends. Plus, if Jeremy Hamilton manages to throw a baseball over a hundred and eight miles an hour during the game, it will be a celebration. I’m so glad Nate invited us.

I start wrapping up the last few things as I text Axel back.

Me: I’ll be right down.

I grab my overnight bag and wave goodbye to my staff. They know I’m going out on my own first Flirt date—unofficially, at least—and that we’re going to San Diego to see the baseball game.

“I hope you packed condoms,” Christie teases.

“They won’t be needed. A nice girl never gives it up before the third date.”

“Feel free to throw caution to the wind.” She winks.

I shake my head and laugh.

I made a deal with Nate so that Peter can join us on the trip without standing out as my security. I don’t want to keep things from Axel, but I’m not ready to put all my cards on the table just yet. It can be intimidating to have a huge security guy following you around all the time. This way, Peter will just seem like another friend on the trip. He was a good sport about it, even though he typically enjoys the break when I’m out of town for a short trip like this.

As I walk out the building, I spot Axel waiting in front of a Cadillac Escalade. He opens the door as I approach. I don’t know if I should just smile and get in, shake his hand, or kiss him on the cheek. Thankfully, he solves the dilemma by giving me a warm smile as he puts his hand on my lower back and takes my bag from me.

“Are you ready for some good baseball?” he asks.

“I can’t wait,” I reply.

Axel scoots in behind me and we’re off—skirting around Thursday lunch traffic and making our way to the private plane terminal at San Francisco’s airport.

Axel rubs his hands over his thighs. “I have to admit, I’m a little nervous.”

About the date? I panic for a moment before I realize he’s probably talking baseball. Still, I answer carefully. “We’re going to have a great time.”

He nods. “I know, and even if Jeremy doesn’t beat the record, this will be fun.”

Ah-ha. Got it. My shoulders relax. “Will his parents be there?”

Axel looks away for a moment. “No. I called them last night and offered to fly them and his brothers and sisters out. They’re so excited for him, but they can’t leave their farm on such short notice.”

“That’s really too bad,” I sympathize.

“Yep. They’ll watch it on TV, and I’ll make sure he connects with them later today. They talk after most games.”

“That’s a great way for them to be there in spirit,” I tell him.

He smiles. “Where is your family?”

“My parents are in New York City. They live in the same apartment I grew up in in Manhattan.”

“Wow, you really are a city girl. Are you a Yankee or Mets fan?”

“Definitely a Yankees fan, but really, I love all baseball. It’s math at so many levels: the shape of the field, the positioning of the players, the arc of a pitch, the ball’s design, the number of balls thrown, the difference between right-handed players and left-handed players… I also love the sensory part of baseball: the crack of a bat, the sound of the ball smacking into a leather glove, the crowd going crazy, and let’s not forget the smell of hotdogs, popcorn, and beer. My goal is to see a game in every stadium—both major and minor league,” I confess. “Does that make me sound really weird?”

I’m prepared for him to give me an awkward shrug or uncomfortable laugh, but his head tilts to the side and he smiles. “Not at all. I love it. Do you know