Page 10 of Let You Love Me

“But . . . why?” Lane blurts.

“Why what?” I narrow my eyes, not following.

“Why would you do that? Go get her a new ball. It’s . . .”

“Weird?” I say, because it’s a much better adjective than creepy.

“Well, yeah,” she blurts.

I understand her skepticism. Hell, if my sisters popped a ball and some rando at the park went and bought them a new one without being asked, I’d be suspicious, too. I’d probably deck their ass. So, if anything is going to save me, it’s the truth.

“Would you believe me if I said I had a really crappy night last night and I was out here trying to shake off the funk, so doing something nice for someone helped lighten my mood?”

She stares at me warily.

“What about the fact that I’m trying to figure out what to do to correct a mistake I made and running to the store to fetch you a new ball was a distraction?”

She purses her lips and I can practically see the wheels spinning, see her assessing me as if she’s trying to decide on the chance I’m some kind of stalker.

“Or how about the fact that you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on, and the second you turned for the park, I panicked because I couldn’t stand the thought of not getting your number. And I thought maybe if I went above and beyond, you might do me a solid and give it to me?” I hold my breath, waiting.

She nods, her shoulders sagging with the movement, and I can breathe again. “Okay,” she drawls, “you can have it.” For a moment, I think she means her digits before Sophie skips toward her and squeals as she takes the ball.

“So, do you always hang out in parks where you can play Superman to little girls?”

“Just another Sunday.” I shrug, and when she chuckles, it feels like a reward.

Maybe I can win her over yet.

“This is the part where you ask how you can make it up to me,” I say.

She arches a brow, her posture stiff as she angles herself toward me and scoffs. “And how can I make it up to you?”

My lips quirk. “By giving me your number.”

“My number,” she says like she’s never heard of such a thing.

“Yeah, you know. Those ten digits you put into a phone when you want to call someone.”

“And why would I do that?”

I bark out a laugh. “Ouch. Point made.”

She shakes her head, clearly flustered. “No. I didn’t mean . . .”

“I guess I hoped you might think the gesture of buying a new ball was sweet.”

“So it’s bribery?” Her brows quirk.

“Maybe.” My lips curl. “I also hoped you might find me charming. Or if not charming, then blown away by my sexual prowess and brooding good looks.”

She bites her lip, and I can’t tell if it’s to fight a smile or because she’s contemplating what I said. “I don’t usually give out my number.”

My stomach sinks. “Boyfriend?

“No.” She shakes her head. “No boyfriend.”

I frown. “A girlfriend, then?”

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