Yes. Fuckingyes.
“And that’s why I don’t think the player and theexecutive is such a bad look after all. I’m just a twenty-eight-year-old guy who’s got his shit together and wants to go out with a woman he works with—a woman who has her act together too,” I say, taking her hand.
“Imagine if the press found out I—gasp—am teaching you to cook?”
“Or if they heard we saw a cute sports flick together?” I say drily.
“And how about that time”—she goes full-cringe—“we went for a walk?”
“The paps would have a field day, especially over the chicken and cauliflower.”
She threads her fingers through mine, grinning confidently now too. That fuels me, pushes me on to seal my case.
“The team is strong. We’ve played like rock stars, and this secret thing hasn’t hurt me on the field at all so far this season.” I can’t mask the hope in my voice. “Plus, did you see how Stephen looked at you, then at me tonight? It was almost like he was pleased to see us together.”
Her mouth curves in a conspiratorial grin. “He seemed intrigued. Curious.” She licks her lips and shrugs happily. “I don’t know what’s next. But I want to try with you.”
I pop up from the stool, cup her cheek, and kiss her.
Then, we make a plan. She’ll feel him out atwork. We’re supposed to have dinner with him at a new restaurant in Venice tomorrow night. We’ll tell him then, together.
Then, my gaze drifts down to her necklace again. That’s new. I touch the book charm. “Where’d you get this?”
“My friend Rachel brought it over for me. She owns a jewelry shop and thought of me when it came into her store. ”
“Because you love to read,” I say.
“Yes, but it also reminded me of the day I met you.”
“When you were doing one of your favorite activities,” I say, smiling.
“Yup. But let’s do another one of my favorite activities now.”
I toss her over my shoulder and carry her to the bedroom.
20
HOW TO SAY MASTERMIND
Brooke
As I park in the stadium lot in the morning, Cara’s name blinks on my phone.
I answer right away, jumping at the chance to poke fun at my hearts-and-flowers sister. “Are you calling to tell me about your latestamazingdate with Patrick?”
She’s been seeing him since the night at the movies, and everything isthe best.“Gah. Yes. He’s so sweet,” she says, then tells me about the game of mini golf they played last night. And mini golf isn’t even a euphemism.
“I haven’t heard you like this about a guy in, well, ever,” I say.
“He’s funny and smart, and he’s kind of smitten too.”
Cara deserves a good guy. Her college boyfriend was a leading candidate for Toxic Love. He smothered her, constantly calling and texting, showing up unannounced—in short, stalking her.
“So Patrick’s attentive, but not too much?” I ask carefully.
“Just the right amount. I swear,” she says. “He gives me space when I need it, and he’s around when I want him to be.”
“Good. I’m glad. I worry about you,” I say as I pull open the door to the front office.