Page 68 of Fielder's Choice

“Good,” Luna chuckles. “We didn’t spend the last two hours dolling her up for you to chase her date away before they even leave.”

“You didn’t need to ‘doll her up’ for our first date.” I look right into Olive’s eyes. “She always takes my breath away.”

A pleased smile lifts Liv’s rosy cheeks. “Not just our first date, Lane. Myfirstdate. Ever.”

How the hell am I the first man to ever take this perfect woman on a date? Their loss is my gain, though.

“Then I’ll make sure you have the best night, Olive.” I finally hand her the bouquet I’ve been holding. “These are for you. I figured pink was safe since you seem to love pink.”

“Yeah,” she grins. “It’s my favorite color. Blush pink specifically.”

I reach my hand out to take hers and bring her closer to me. “Ready to get out of here, Ballerina?”

twenty-four

Olive

LaneBrooksdoesn’tforgeta thing.

Even the things you didn’t realize he knew in the first place.

I guess I mentioned to Sage that French food was my favorite after the three of us had lunch that day. And since Lane remembers everything, that means we’re at one of my favorite French restaurants in Midtown.

It was a very easy yes when he asked me out for tonight, but I did spend most of the day anxious and worried. I’ve never been on a date before, and I don’t want to do something that would make Lane lose interest in me. As much as I shy away from it with everyone else, I really like having his attention.

And I’ve had every bit of his attention tonight. He’s barely taken his eyes off me, like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he looks away. But I don’t think there’s a force on Earth that could take me away from him. His pull is magnetic, and I’m always drawn right back in.

We’ve had courses of bouillabaisse and escargot—it was Lane’s first time trying it, and once he got past the mental block ofwhathe was eating, he seemed to really enjoy it. I ordered moules marinières for my entree while Lane went with the coq a vin.

And now, we’re just enjoying some light conversation over the remainder of our bottle of a delicious French burgundy wine while we wait for our tarte tatin for dessert.

“So,” Lane says with his famous cocky side grin, “how has your first date been?”

I smile at him sweetly. “I’ve had a wonderful time, Lane.”

“Best first date you’ve ever been on, right?” he smirks.

“Easily,” I tease before we both fall into laughter.

Being with him is soeasy.All of the nerves I felt through the day have completely dissipated, and I’m just soaking in every moment with him.

“You really do look beautiful tonight, Olive.” Lane reaches across the table and takes my hand, tenderly rubbing his thumb over it.

“Thank you,” I blush. “You look really nice yourself. You pull off a suit very well.”

I expect a cocky comment in return, but all I get is the most affectionate smile, and my heart flutters in my chest. This man affects me like no other.

“I like the pearls, too,” he says, gesturing to the jewelry I’m wearing. “I expected to see you in diamonds, but pearls suit you well.”

“I’ve always loved pearls,” I admit. “They’re beautiful. It’s also my birthstone, though, so I think that plays a part in it.”

Lane has a look of concentration on his face as he works out what that means. “So your birthday is in… June?”

“Mhmm,” I hum. “June second. What about yours?”

“October twelfth,” he responds. “So I’m newly thirty-two.”

I can’t help but tease him again. He seems to like it when I do that. “Newly thirty-two still makes you an old man, Hotshot. We should probably just get a cane for you now. Call AARP and getyou set up with a plan. Probably need to look into getting your will ready as well.”

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