XXX CHAPTER 22 XXX

This is not a date. Emmett's reflection in the rear-view mirror rolled its eyes.

"I know, fucker."

Then, why do I have the first-date jitters?

"Pull yourself together, Mac." Emmett gave himself one final, stern glare before opening the car door. He was five minutes early, but he knew Edward would be waiting.

And there he was. Emmett's breath caught in his throat as Edward turned and smiled at him. Jesus, the man knew how to wear a black button-down, untucked over gray slacks that fit him snug in all the right places, and the collar open just far enough for Emmett to glimpse those three chest hairs Edward had left him wondering about. And if Emmett wasn't mistaken, Edward was giving him a nice, hard look back.

"Hey!" Damn, the way Edward's whole face lit up when he smiled just now. "Welcome home." Edward offered his hand, and Emmett grasped it with gusto.

Clasping Edward's shoulder, Emmett pulled him into a one-armed hug. "Good to be home," he said, trying not to swoon as Edward's after-shave wafted over him.

"Mr. McCarty, I have your table for you whenever you're ready."

"We're ready."

Edward followed the maître-d' while Emmett brought up—and ogled—the rear.

"Hope you're hungry."

"Pretty much always," Edward answered over his shoulder.

As they paraded through the restaurant, Emmett noticed the usual raising of eyebrows and that momentary flash of "Wow, look who's here!" Of course, there was also the usual neck craning business to get a glimpse of his companion. Emmett shuddered to think what he'd do now without Tammy as an alibi. He waved and smiled and shook hands, and by the time he reached their table, Edward was already seated.

"I'm sorry about that—occupational hazard."

"Don't be. Your fans love you, as well they should." Edward unrolled his napkin, grinning as he pulled out the steak knife and fork. "Now these are utensils!"

"Damn, I should've told them to put chopsticks in yours!" Emmett was smiling so hard his face hurt. For a couple of guys who weren't dating, they were doing a pretty decent job building a repertoire of little inside jokes.

"I wouldn't put it past you!"

Emmett opened the wine menu and peeked around at Edward. "What are you drinking? Should we get a nice bottle of cab?"

"I'll help you finish off a bottle if that's what you want, or I'm more than happy with a cocktail."

"Eh, let's save the wine for another time." Like a real date, when I don't have to pitch two days later.

Emmett signaled for the waiter, who took their drink orders and turned to leave. "Hang on one sec. Edward, do you like calamari?"

"Sure."

"We'll take an order of calamari while we look at the menu."

"Certainly, sir. I'll put that right in for you."

Edward was leaning back in his chair with a contented smile plastered on his face. "You don't get much of a chance to let loose, do you?"

Emmett shrugged. "Not during the season, but hey, how many people get four months off their jobs every year?"

"I do," he answered with a chuckle. "Well, after this year, it'll only be two."

"True. Good thing you haven't started working yet. I don't think you'd have enough time for me and a full-time job."

Edward sipped at his water and set it down deliberately. "You're more of an adventure."

"Thank you."

They both chuckled, ignoring their menus and enjoying the easy banter. "You know, Emmett, there will come that day when I actually do have to go to my day job."

"Don't remind me," Emmett said, drawing a warm glow from Edward. "How about if I write a note to your boss? Dear Edward's boss, please excuse Edward from school so he can perform his duties as pitcher-whisperer today. Yours truly, Big Mac."

Edward busted up, quickly drawing his napkin to his mouth. "Um no, I don't think she'd appreciate that too much."

Interesting. "Got a hard-ass boss?"

"Let's just say she knows what she wants, and she knows how to get it."

"Well, clearly she wanted you."

Their Stoli Dolis arrived, giving Emmett a chance to sit back and appreciate the confident glint in Edward's eye. For a long moment, Emmett imagined Edward going all Spock in his interview, impressing the headmistress with his earnest ways. Or maybe she thought he was hot, not that it would do her a bit of good.

Emmett lifted his glass. "Cheers, to the man behind the man on the mound."

Edward grinned and clinked his glass with Emmett. "One of the many men behind the man on the mound."

"It does take a village." They paused to sip their drinks, but there were details Emmett needed to have filled in. "So, what'd you do, wow the woman with your epic statistical skills?"

"I don't know," he said, adding a dismissive wave. "I don't like tooting my own horn." Oh, Edward, maybe you'll let me toot it for you one day.

Emmett leaned forward, grabbing his water goblet to hide his smile. "Go on. Toot away."

He shrugged before continuing. "She said she was impressed with my dissertation."

A gooey, weak-in-the-knees sensation melted Emmett's insides. He could honestly say he'd never been attracted to anyone who'd written a dissertation before. "She read it?"

A little hint of mischief curled up the corners of Edward's lips. "She most likely skimmed it, but she got the gist."

"What's the gist?"

Without hesitation, Edward launched into his topic. There was no speaking down to Emmett or using gobbledygook he wouldn't understand. "The thesis was about translating models of mathematical reasoning for differently-abled learners, specifically at the elementary levels. I presented a variety of teaching techniques and illustrated how to customize the message to reach every type of student."

"Like you do with me."

There was the expression that nailed Emmett every damn time. That humble, quiet, fucking adorably shy blush. "You'd be the adult version, yes."

Emmett shook off the XXX-rated adult movie poster that flashed through his mind. "Huh. Well, you're good at it. Your boss must be a smart lady."

"A bit intimidating, but yes, very smart."

The waiter returned with the calamari. "Flag me down when you're ready to put in your order."

Emmett's gaze shifted across to Edward, who seemed perfectly content. "Thanks."

Edward slid a pile of calamari onto his bread plate and popped one of the fried rings into his mouth. "Mmm, that's fantastic."

"It's the peppers."

"You eat here a lot?"

"Not so much in the summer, but yeah, we like it."

They ate without speaking for a few minutes, Edward's eyes darting away from Emmett's each time they met.

"Why are you so jumpy all of a sudden?" Emmett asked. "Did you bite into something hot?"

Edward shrugged, picking at his calamari. "No. I didn't mean to bring up a painful topic."

"What top—Oh! Tammy?"

"Sorry."

"Edward, I meant 'we, the guys' like it. I told you before, I'm fine. You don't have to pussy-foot around me. I'm not gonna burst into tears—promise."

Still looking a bit sullen, Edward answered, "Okay."

"Hey, what about you?"

"What about me?" Edward looked up at him, completely clueless as to where Emmett was leading the conversation. And why the hell had he led the conversation here anyway?

It's what guys do. Besides, it would be rude to make it all about me. Whatever. There was no turning back now, as much as Emmett would've loved to.

Swirling his drink on its coaster, Emmett dangled his toe in the murky waters. "Are you seeing anyone?"

Edward turned as bright red as Emmett had ever seen him. "You're kind of all-encompassing."

You are a selfish prick, McCarty, monopolizing this man's time and offering him nothing in return. "I'm an asshole."

"What? No! Hell, you thought I was complaining?" Edward chuffed, lurching forward in his chair to close the distance between them. "Who could've ever imagined I'd be sitting here having dinner with Emmett McCarty, not to mention running with you every day? It's an unbelievable privilege to be in your orbit, and I wouldn't trade this experience for anything in the world. I hope you know I mean that, Emmett." Edward hovered over the table, tensed and waiting for Emmett's reassurance.

"Sure," Emmett answered thoughtfully, "as long as you promise to tell me if it all gets to be too much that I've commandeered all your free time."

Shaking his head, Edward relaxed back into his seat. "Have you forgotten my screen name?"

"How could I?"

"And that was before I met you. Now . . ." He trailed off, and Emmett prepared himself for another embarrassing revelation. "I realize now how little I actually knew about you as a person, though . . . pshh, I certainly thought I knew you from all those facts and figures and media bytes I devoured. I have to tell you, Emmett, the way I had built you up in my head, it would've been very easy for you to disappoint me—and you haven't. Not once."

And I can't. Emmett cracked a wise-ass grin because the intensity of Edward's gaze and the weight of Edward's confession were getting to be more than he could handle. "I'm glad I wasn't aware of your lofty expectations."

Edward studied Emmett as if he were a tricky equation he hadn't encountered before. A smile slowly eased the hard line of his mouth as he picked up his menu, and Emmett followed suit.

"Holy shit, twenty-four ounces of meat? Who eats that?"

Emmett chuckled. "Have you seen some of the guys on our team? Besides, half of that's bone."

Emmett snuck a peek at Edward scanning the menu, the man's analytical mind hard at work.

"The sirloin sounds good," Edward said.

"If you want a sirloin, you have to try the kona rub. It's insane."

Setting down his menu, Edward grinned. "What if it keeps me awake?"

"You can hit me up for a game of chess."

With a sly grin, Edward said, "You mean five games."

Emmett shrugged, tilting his head for added effect. "Until your coaching gets better . . ."

"Ouch," Edward said. "Just remember, you asked for it when I wake you up with a text."

A smile took over Emmett's face, and there was not a thing he could do about it. The idea of Edward texting him at all hours of the night didn't compute with the man he'd come to know—the careful, considerate man who put Emmett's needs first in every situation. At the same time, the idea of such an intimate, late-night tête-à-tête made Emmett giddy. Chess . . . intimate? You're a hot mess, Mac.

"All right, quit threatening me and help me decide what we're having for sides. Lobster mac 'n' cheese? Truffle fries?"

Edward's hand flew to his belly. "Are you trying to kill me?"

"What? We're gonna work it all off tomorrow."

"We'll have to run an extra five miles."

"You're just saying that to stay on Trey's good side."

"I'm not gonna lie; that's a huge plus."

Emmett chuffed. "How about a compromise? Lobster mac and asparagus."

"That's like putting fat-free frozen yogurt on top of a piece of triple chocolate cake."

"What's your point?"

"There's no reasoning with you."

"How many times do I have to remind you? Resistance is futile. Haven't you figured that out yet?"

If they'd been texting, Emmett would've failed to see Edward's expression, but here they were sharing a small—and let's face it, romantic—table for two with no place to hide. When Edward answered, Emmett read every nuance of sincerity in his features. "Actually, I have."

Deep inside Emmett's belly, the spark of hope found oxygen and burned brighter.

A small army of servers delivered steaming plates and bowls, and the ritual of cutting into steaks to check the temperature was performed. Taking a forkful of lobster mac, Edward quizzed him about his day. "How was your afternoon with your nephew?"

"Fantastic. The kid's got a great swing. Wish I could harness that."

"You're not a bad hitter."

Emmett guffawed, nearly spewing a macaroni noodle across the table. "I'm a horrible hitter."

Giving him a massive eye roll, Edward said, "Your sacrifice stats are in the top ten—"

"Among pitchers!"

"—and your batting average is completely respectable."

"What you're saying is, I'm a pretty good hitter—for a pitcher!"

"Well, yeah."

"You know, you're quite the spin doctor. I think you could twist the numbers to say anything you want."

"Interpreting statistics is definitely an art form."

"You are a man of many talents, Edward Cullen."

Edward sliced off a corner of his steak, grinning as he brought it toward his mouth. "And you haven't even seen me juggle yet."

As he chewed, that glint stayed put in Edward's eye, leaving Emmett to wonder. With all the talk of Edward getting to know him, Emmett hadn't really considered how well he knew Edward. The man seemed to be an open book, but still, you had to ask the right questions.

And of course, the biggest question of all weighed heavy on Emmett's heart: Will you want me?

Author's Note: Welp, was that a date or a non-date? I'm all about the Stoli Doli, personally, and Mr. H does love that kona rub, don't ya, honey? (Truth be told, he is a fan of most rubs *wink*)

I am loving all your theories and greedy, impatient, grabby-hands reviews! MWAH!
XXX ~BOH