Which she most certainly wasn’t.

Or she supposed she was, since going to a party with him could definitely be considered a date.

“You’re chewing your lip.”

She looked over at Tucker. “Excuse me?”

He pointed to her face as he drove. “You’re chewing your bottom lip. Like you’re worried or thinking or something.”

She licked her lip. “I’m fine.”

“Did you have a bad day at work?”

She shrugged. “My day was fine. Normal for me.”

He pulled onto the highway, merged over into the fast lane. After a mile or so, he asked, “Then what’s bothering you?”

“Nothing’s bothering me.”

“Something is, because I’ve seen you do that thing with your lip before.”

She looked at him. “Really. And you know me so well that you think it’s because something’s bothering me.”

“Yes.”

He was so confident. Then again, he was also right, which kind of irritated her. She decided not to answer him and looked out the window. Trees were in bloom, color had started to burst into her city. Spring had definitely sprung in St. Louis, which brightened her mood immensely despite all the rain they’d had lately.

Besides, rain was a good thing. It renewed everything.

“So are you gonna tell me or not?”

She shifted her attention back to Tucker. “Tell you what?”

“What’s bugging you?”

She finally sighed. “The party.”

He took a quick glance her way. “Liz’s party?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t want to go.”

“I didn’t say that, it’s just—people there know me.”

“Okay. And that’s a problem.”

“Maybe.”

His fingers flexed on the steering wheel, and she could tell that she’d upset him, which hadn’t been her intent.

“It’s because you don’t want anyone you know to know that we’re seeing each other, especially anyone in baseball or connected to baseball who knows your dad.”

When he said the words out loud, it sounded petty and ridiculous. What difference did it make if she was dating one of the players? There was nothing in their contracts that prohibited it, and certainly nothing about it that would get her father riled up. He’d likely not care at all. He’d probably never know. It wasn’t like anyone other than Liz routinely spoke to her dad. She was worrying for nothing.

She was just going to go and mingle with people she knew and have fun and quit worrying about it.

“Actually, everything’s fine. I’m not concerned at all.”

He looked like he didn’t quite believe her. “Are you sure?”

She gave him her most sincere smile. “Absolutely.”

He exited the highway and pulled onto a street with enormous trees. It was dark and a little foreboding, and the house was huge.

When they pulled to the end of the long, dark driveway she noticed a lot of cars. Like, a lot of cars.

“Okay, then,” he said, putting his car into park before turning to her and laying his hand on her thigh. “Let’s go party our asses off, Aubry.”

LIZ ANSWERED THE DOOR LOOKING LIKE A KNOCKOUT, as always. In her mid-thirties, was Aubry’s guess, and she looked late twenties at most. Her stunning red hair was cut in a short bob, the silken ends sweeping along her chin. And, despite a busy career as a sports agent, being married to Gavin Riley, the team’s first baseman, and dealing with the couple’s two-year-old daughter, Genevieve, she’d never known a woman more put together, on top of . . .

Everything.

“I’m so glad you’re here, Tucker,” Liz said, her eyes widening as she turned from him to Aubry.

“Aubry.” Liz enveloped her in a tight hug. “I didn’t expect to see you. And you’re with Tucker?”

“Yes.”

“You have to come with me. We have some catching up to do. Tucker, go grab a beer with the guys. They’re downstairs.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He looked over at Aubry. “You okay?”

“Fine. I’ll catch up with you later.”

“Don’t worry about him,” Liz said, her arm firmly linked in Aubry’s. “All the guys are downstairs shooting pool or playing video games or whatever it is they all do when they’re not watching sports.”

Liz led her into the kitchen. “First, we get a drink. Mixed or beer or wine?”