Hector (Season One: The Ninth Inning #3) (2 page)

She's slowly warming up to me though. By slowly, I mean slower than a turtle stuck in mud, trying to get out. I left her with my number, but I already know she won't reach out to me. Her constant rejection has me wondering what is wrong with me. Not that I've never been turned down before, but damn. She doesn't know me yet; nothing warrants her favorite answer of no when I ask for her name or out on a date.

No matter how much I try to figure out why she doesn't want to go out with me or give me her name and number, I come up empty, especially now, since it obviously has nothing to do with baseball. Maybe it's because I always tip her well, but that would have to be a good thing, not bad. It'll be interesting to see if she'll call me Hector or Mr. Customer next time I go in.

We've got a road trip coming up soon, and I'm hoping I can have her number by then. Unlikely, but I'll keep hoping and chasing until Zoey gives me a chance.

WE STEP OFF the field after a particularly long practice. I pull my hat off when we step inside the building, the cool air hitting my skin. After running my hands through my hair, the few reporters waiting outside the locker room perk up at seeing us. I don't mind them at all, as long as the focus stays on baseball.

“You seem to be close to Blake Foster. Did you know about Jack Foster and his alleged history of abuse toward his wife and son?”

I stare at the lady reporter. Blake has managed to skim by the reporters for a week now, and they've turned to me for answers because we're friends. “Thanks for your time,” I say before turning and walking away. Like I'm going to tell what I know to some hungry reporter.

Blake is in the locker room and I slap him on the shoulder when I pass him to reach my locker. Last night, I came up with a lame idea to get Zoey to give me her number. Lame or not, I'm trying it.

“Are you going to be with Sof tonight?” I ask.

“No, why?”

I make a show of dropping my jaw in shock. He throws a towel at me. I turn to Felix. “Are you going to be with Abigail?”

“Nope,” he answers.

“Good. You two are coming with me to Big Blue. Seven o'clock.”

They nod and I wonder how tonight will go. As long as Blake and Felix cooperate, my lame plan might earn me half a point with her. Half because there's no doubt in my mind it's going to take a hell of a lot more to earn a full point. I just don't know what it'll take for that yet.

We all arrive at the same time and enter the bar together. I scan the room first before confirming that Zoey is working the bar again tonight. The three of us take a seat and I flash a smile when she glances this way. She shakes her head, but I swear I see a small smile. Once she finishes with her current customer, she comes over to us.

“Hey, Zoey,” I say with a grin.

“Hey, Hector,” she replies, causing my grin to widen. “What can I get you guys?” She looks at Blake and Felix as she places a beer in front of me. They order and she walks off to get their drinks.

“How often do you come here?” Felix asks. “You're on a first name basis with the bartender and she already knows what you want?”

“I just learned her name.”

Blake laughs. “That's the same chick from the last time we were here. She kept avoiding Hector and wouldn't give him her name.”

Felix starts laughing. “I thought she looked familiar. Have you been coming here ever since?”

I nod before taking a drink. “You two are going tell her how awesome I am, so I can get her number. It's taken me two months to get her name, and that’s because I was sneaky. I don't want to wait two more to get her number.”

Blake laughs harder. “You think that's going to impress her?”

“No, but shut up and do it anyway.”

Zoey comes backs, places their drinks in front of them, and I want to kill them when they start talking.

“We hear you're giving our boy here a hard time,” Felix starts.

“He's a really great guy,” Blake adds. “You should give him a chance before his poor heart breaks from all this rejection.”

“He's social, and he's funny.”

“He gives people nicknames like Grumpy and then comes over to their house to eat their food, so be careful about that. Aside from being annoying half the time, he's decent,” Blake finishes.

Zoey is laughing, and I slap Blake upside the back of his head since he's closest. Should have known I couldn't count on them. It was a lame idea to start with and they just butchered it. Once Zoey calms down, she glances at me with amused curiosity.

“You brought in reinforcements?”

“Depends. If it worked, then yeah, these are my teammates. If it didn't, these are two lunatic fans, overstepping their bounds.”

She hums before answering, “It didn't work. You know, you gave me your number. If I wanted to talk to you outside of this bar, I would’ve call.”

I turn the bottle around on the bar top. “No, you wouldn't, Zoey. You’d rather I call, but I can't do that without your number, and you don't want to give me your number because you like seeing me try over and over to get a piece of information from you. You have all night to think about it. It’s a phone number or another two months of me coming in here. Either way, I'll get it eventually.”

She watches me for a moment. “We'll see,” she says before walking away to tend to another customer.

“You've got it bad already,” Felix chuckles.

“Nah,” I wave him off. “I don't know her that well yet.”

“It's been two months, Hector. You know enough to keep coming back,” Blake points out.

“True,” I reply before changing the subject.

It feels good to hang out with them away from the game. It’s also great to see Blake doing well since all that went down with his dad. The night is fun with lots of jokes, but my eyes seem to find Zoey every few seconds. The rest of the time, I have to hear more teasing from the guys about it. Eventually, they leave, but I hang around for a while.

It’ll be interesting to see if I’ll
finally
get Zoey’s number or not. If she declines, I’m either going to keep coming until she does, or maybe I should seriously reconsider things. Should I waste so much time and money just to be told no repeatedly?

Yes.

I’m too invested already.

The bar begins to empty and I wave Zoey over once she seems to have a break with the few remaining customers.

“Time to get serious, Zoey,” I start. “Aside from the fact that you obviously love being chased as much as I love chasing you, why can't I have your number? I'll be gone for a couple of days, so I need to know before I leave.”

She folds her arms on the bar and leans forward. My gaze drops to the cleavage and a million dirty thoughts run through my mind before I force my eyes back to hers.

“We're not compatible,” she states.

“We aren't? How do you know? Did we go on a date where you learned I'm from an entirely different planet, speak a different language, and eat people? Because unless we did that, then you don't know. You're hot. I'm hot. I've been coming in for two months, happily giving you all my money, and I even stupidly brought in two friends. You already know I've worn you down, so go head and hand that number over, so I can talk to you while I'm on the road.”

Zoey is quiet for a moment before reaching into her apron for her pen and paper. “I'll give you my number, but only because then you'll see I'm right. We aren't compatible, Hector.”

“Only one way to find out.”

She rips off the paper from her pad and hands it over to me. I glance down, counting the numbers and checking to make sure the area code matches. I don't know what I'll do if she gives me a wrong number.

“Thanks, Zoey. I will most definitely be in touch.”

“I THINK IT’S beautiful.” Aunt Minnie stares at my painting.

“You’re just being nice. It’s crap,” I sigh. “It’s crap on a cracker.”

“No, it’s not. Look at the shading here and here.” She points. “I think it’s really good.”

“Honey,” Aunt Lanny hands me a glass of sweet tea. “Stop overthinking it.”

I take a swig of the cool liquid and still stare at the canvas. I know my aunts are being nice to me because they don’t want to hurt my feelings, but the painting isn’t even worthy of wall in an outhouse.

“Do you want me to see if I can get it into the gallery?” Aunt Minnie pats my back.

“No. I’m going to do it on my own and not with your connections.” I walk into the kitchen. Aunt Minnie is pretty famous in the art world, and I don’t want to use her name or her gallery. She’d put it up in a heartbeat, but I want to prove I can do this on my own.

“My offer still stands if you ever change your mind,” Aunt Minnie says as they both enter the kitchen.

“I know and thank you, but I won’t know if I’m good if I say I’m Minnie Whitlock’s niece.”

She kisses my cheek and her blonde bob tickles me. “I love that you’re my niece.”

I smile at her. “I love that you’re my aunt.”

“Well, aren’t you two being all mushy?” Aunt Lanny rolls her eyes.

I laugh and kiss her cheek loudly. “I love that I’m Lanny Purvis’s niece.”

“Please, you love me because I’m a good cook,” she jokes with me, brushing her pixie bangs out of her eyes. I look a lot like my Aunt Lanny. My dark hair and high cheekbones are thanks to her. Even though my mother had the same features, Aunt Lanny and I do look like mother and daughter.

“That’s why I’ve been with you for almost forty years,” Aunt Minnie states and we all laugh.

“I need to get back into Memphis. I love you both.” I hug and kiss them and head back to my apartment. I didn’t bother bringing the painting back. Aunt Lanny keeps all my crap in a shed where Aunt Minnie paints her stunning ideas and crafts.

I look down at my phone and I see a text from Hector.

Hector: Miss me yet?

Me: Like a wart.

I laugh at the screen. I’m not sure what it is about this guy. He’s cute, but there’s something else making him seem like a nice guy.

Hector: Already found a way we’re alike. We’re both hilarious.

I guess he’s a funny guy, too.

Me: You’re a jokester? I find that hard to believe. You seem serious all the times I’ve seen you.

Hector: Only serious for you.

Oh, that’s a cheesy line if I ever heard one. I thought this cat would have more game.

Me: Really? Already starting with the stalker tendencies. I thought it would be at least another day or two before you showed your true colors.

Hector: I prefer to be called determined and a go-getter.

Me: I thought the baseball term was bat boy?

Hector: I take that back. You’re not funny or all that nice; good thing it doesn’t bother me.

I think I made him mad, but I’m not too sure.

Me: Hey, I’m a nice person. I actually don’t know what bat boy means. I heard it in passing one time. Sorry.

Hector: Using words you don’t know the meaning of? Tsk. Tsk. I’ll let you pass this time because I’m nice. If you’re nice too, then that’s another thing.

Me: I’ve been told I’m a good person as long as I have a cup of coffee when I first wake up. If not, I make no promises.

Not a second later, my phone is ringing. He’s calling me. I debate for a second whether to answer, but it’s not like I hadn’t been texting him.

“Hello.”

“Are you telling me how you are when you wake up in the morning as a prediction and for my future references?”

“Ha! Not even close, buddy. I’m simply stating a fact and not for you to take notes. You don’t even know me. For all you know, I could be a professional con artist.” I kick my chucks off in my bedroom and shimmy out of my shorts. I grab my boxers that I wear to bed and slide into them.

“I’m not supposed to take notes? I guess I shouldn’t mention that I have already. I somewhat know you and therefore, I can say with confidence there’s no way you’re a con artist.”

“You know me? What? Did you Google me? I don’t think you even know my last name.”

“Hey, I only said somewhat. What’s your last name? You know mine; it’s only fair you tell me yours.”