Page 74 of Don't Go Faking My Heart

Freaking Philip.

My hand still throbs from that first punch to his helmet. I can't believe I decked him like that. If he hadn't been wearing his helmet, that cold-clock would have knocked him out.

Course, if I hadn't been wearing gloves, my hand would be broken.

It may be, anyway.

If I've broken this hand on another scumbag …

"Look sharp," Sonny says. "You've got a pair of huge blue eyes trained on you."

My head flies over and I spot Ash. She lights up, and I have a feeling of trying to hold onto smoke and watching it wisp out of my hands. Her reaction is a product of our charade. She's always happy to see me, but this smile is the difference between daytime running lights on a car versus your brights. And it's all for show.

So I give her a show back, waving and smiling like she's the light of my life. Except this "show" is a documentary. True crime. I may have said I wouldn’t let her get away with murder, but I lied.

Letting her go when this is over will kill me.

Tripp, Sonny, and I are leaving the locker room when the Dirtbags' coach runs up to us. "Any chance y'all want to become permanent fixtures on the team?"

"Sorry, Coach," I say. "The farm would fall apart without me."

"Hey," Tripp says, elbowing me in the ribs. He shakes the coach's hand. "Thanks for lettin' us play."

"Anytime," the coach says. "Sonny?"

"Are you kidding? That was the most fun I've ever had playing football. Count me in for every home game!"

The coach is in raptures as he and Sonny start discussing details. Tripp and I leave the locker room and soon, we're exiting the arena, where Ash, Jane, Parker, and Lou are all waiting in the wind and light rain.

Jane runs up to Tripp and leaps into his arms, peppering him with kisses.

Ash is playing with a curl, looking adorably nervous, and I drop my bag and scoop her up like she's a bride. Her giggle makes me feel lighter than air. I kiss her quickly on the cheek and then set her down. I expect her to step back so we can go, but she wraps her arms tightly around my waist.

"Let me guess," Parker says. "Sonny stopped to talk to fans and/or got drafted by the Dirtbags."

"The latter, I'm afraid," I say. I rest my head on Ash's, feeling her laugh at Sonny being Sonny. "But don't worry: it's only for home games."

"Sounds about right."

Tripp nods at me. "You finish the drywall in your garage yet?"

"Not yet. Maybe this weekend."

"Do you need help?" Tripp asks. "I've learned way too much remodeling the farmhouse."

"Nah, I'm good," I say.

"Okay, Lone Wolf." Tripp and I bump fists, and then he and Jane head toward his truck.

I kiss the top of Ash's head, wanting to bank this memory along with every other one from the last week. I let the feel of her curls imprint into my lips, and the lavender scent of her hair takes up residence in my lungs. This casual intimacy is more than a tease, it's torture.

"Ready for me to take you home?" I ask Ash. The wind is picking up, and with a tropical storm threatening to dump on us, I should get her home before the weather takes a turn.

She peers up at me through her glasses. "Why don't you show me your place?"

My throat constricts. I've worked hard to make my house a home, and with only the garage left to fix up, my place is really only missing one thing: Ash. Her walking around in my space feels like crossing the final line.

But, then, she's never been curious about it before.

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