Page 59 of Walkoff Wedding

Then, I chug all of it.

As if staying hydrated is going to help the monumental mess that I’ve found myself in.

“You good?”

Grant’s deep, gravelly baritone comes from the entryway of the kitchen, and I set my empty glass in the sink before turning to face him.

Thankfully, I can breathe more normally since he’s now dressed in a pair of dark gray sweatpants and a loose T-shirt bearing the Hellcats Baseball logo. His hair is still damp from his shower, and he’s got it pushed messily off his face as he grins playfully down at me. “Stop freaking out. It’s okay. I promise.”

I groan, dropping my head in my hands. “It doesn’t feel okay. I’m mortified, Grant. I invaded your privacy, and I feel like I can’t look you in the eye ever again.”

Grant closes the distance between us and gently wraps his arms around me, pulling me into his warmth. My hands connect with his strong chest as I keep my face buried behind my palms.

Great… and now I’m imagining him naked again. Did I ever really stop?

“Would it make you feel any better if I saw you naked?” he counters with a smirk.

“Oh my god. No!” I blanch, freezing in his hold. “No, it wouldn’t. In fact, I think it would be inherently worse.”

His chest vibrates with laughter as he pulls me tighter to him. Even though I’m on the cusp of a shame spiral, I can still admit how nice it feels to be in his arms. I feel safe.

The truth is that I’m only slightly embarrassed over seeing him naked. It was an accident, I know. It’s the thoughts that I’m still having, the ones that I can’t admit to him, that are making this such a big deal.

The fact that I’m… turned on, and it’s not like I can just blurt that out as if it’s nothing.

“Well, we have to live together and continue being married, so eventually, you’re going to have to look at me again,” he teases. Finally, I glance up at him and realize that he’s just entirely too attractive to look at when I’m feeling so… flustered, so I duck my head and bury my face into the front of his shirt again.

“Debatable,” I mutter against the fabric.

His chest shakes with another laugh, and he pulls back, then tips my chin up, dragging my gaze to his. The deep blue of his irises seems to blaze as he says, “Trust me, ArtGirl, I’d be having very different thoughts if the roles were reversed. Don’t worry about it.”

My heart is pounding so hard that I can hear my pulse thrumming in my ears.

And by that, he means…

When his brow arches and his eyes darken, I put it together quickly, but before I can say anything, he speaks again.

“I was thinking we could go to Jack’s for dinner? My teammates are harassing me to meet you, and it’s the best place on campus.” He pauses, reading my confused expression. “If we wanted to be seen acting married in public. Which we do. What do you think?”

“Yes. Sounds good. I, uh… I’ll be out of class by four. Should I meet you there?”

Grant nods as he begins to slightly loosen his arms from around me, “Yep. If you get there before us, save us a table and order whatever you like. I’ve gotta head out for an early workout and then practice after class, but I’ll see you later?”

Nodding, I step back and clutch the counter behind me as I watch him grab a bottle of an electrolyte drink from the fridge and a packet of preworkout out of the container by the table.

When he walks across the room and grabs his bat bag that’s leaning against the wall, he looks back over his shoulder with a grin. “Oh, and ArtGirl? Try not to spend the rest of the day thinking about your husband naked, ’kay?”

Then, with his trademark wink, he walks out of the kitchen like he didn’t just cause the fire in my cheeks or the uncontrollable flutter of butterflies in my stomach.

I’m a complete nervous wreck as I walk into Jack’s Pizza for dinner later that evening. Mostly because I’ve had the entire day to replay this morning’s disaster and to psych myself out about tonight.

I realize that it’s not that huge of a deal, meeting Grant’s friends for the first time. But this is also the first time we’ve been out in public together, trying to convince everyone that we’re a real married couple, and I’m just worried that I’m going to do something to mess it up. That I’m going to be the reason that this entire plan comes crashing down.

But I square my shoulders and attempt to push away my nerves as I pause near the hostess stand.

The restaurant is completely packed. All of the fifties-style booths and tables are full of people, loud and animated as they share huge pizzas and Jack’s signature sundaes. As I scan the restaurant, I notice a few familiar faces from class and find myself hoping that no one recognizes me.

I’d be more surprised if they did though.

---