Page 59 of When You Wish Upon a Wideout

My eyes found the frame on the wall behind him, the one that heldmypicture that Beau’s Dad had hung up proudly. I scanned the headline from over his shoulder.

WALKER THE FLYING RECEIVER SECURES BROOKWOOD VICTORY.

“You’re something better than prince charming.”

Beau’s mouth slid into a curious smirk. “Oh yeah? What’s better than that?”

I felt silly admitting that these days—and these past few months—Beau has become the thing I wish on. But I told him anyway.

“My shooting wideout.”

Love,

Sienna

chapternine

I could useyour help if you’re not busy. Then I want to take you to lunch.

Sienna rolled her eyes before responding to Beau’s text.

I’d like to bring you lunch. See you in an hour.

She dropped the phone onto the couch, resuming folding the laundry. Holding a pair of socks in the air, Sienna looked around, unsure of what the noise was. It took three more pairs of socks to realize she had been hummingandsmiling, even while looking at an enormous mountain of unfolded clothes.

It was a smile—Sienna hated to admit—that had lingered more on than off since Beau dropped her off at home a few days ago, when she had opened the door and crept into the house to find a beautiful flower arrangement of white peonies—her favorite—on the table. According to Grace, they had been delivered about ten minutes after Sienna and Beau had left.

Thank you. It hasn’t even started yet but it’s already been the best second first date of my life—B.

Even with the exhaustive upkeep of Maloney’s and the stress that radiated from the pile of overdue hospital bills, the smile Beau put on her face was a welcome distraction.

Sienna put away the laundry and went to the diner, picking up burgers and the works, and headed to Beau’s parents’ house, where he was getting out of his truck as she pulled in. She had barely turned off the engine before Beau was opening her door, offering his hand. Sienna reached for the takeout bag and placed it in his hand, sliding out of the car.

Beau held up the plastic bag and peeked in.

“Better not be Oysters or something,” he said.

Sienna shut the door. “I hope you didn’t get your snobby, foodie heart up. The cheese on the burgers is heavily processed, long shelf-life cheddar with color never seen in nature.”

“My favorite.” Beau cracked a grin, swinging a bare arm around her and pulling her in for a kiss.

Before her brain could register what was happening, Sienna was already leaning in for a second. And a third. There were too many kisses to make up for.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi.” With his arm around her, they walked to the front steps. “What do you have going on today?”

Beau unlocked the door, waiting for her to step in. “That.” He nodded at cans of paint, brushes, and rollers at the foot of the steps.

“Do I get workman’s compensation, by the way? I nearly threw out my back the other day moving boxes.”

She unzipped her hoodie and draped it over the banister, tugging her T-shirt down and entering the kitchen to open the blinds above the sink. She jumped when Beau’s hands—large and warm—held her shoulders.

“Did you?”

Turning the water on, Sienna lathered her hands. “I did. And it still hurts,” she joked. “I might sue you.” Peeking over her shoulder, she found him smirking.

Beau kneaded under her neck, his touch sprouting a chill that sashayed down to Sienna’s hands.

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