Page 66 of Go Away, Darling

“Will you travel with me for the rest of summer? After camp? I think I might go nuts if we’re constantly apart.” I was already coming out of my skin at the thought of being away this week.

“Of course. We’re all yours until school starts.” She smiled. A secret, shy kind of smile. “I’m looking forward to all the travel and...being an official WAG.”

I groaned and kissed her. Just thinking about Liv being with my team as an official team wife, officially mine, brought the caveman back. “There’s something else we need to discuss.”

“What?” She only stopped kissing me enough to get that one word out and she didn’t open her eyes.

“Roman thought...maybe it might be a good idea to keep the engagement under wraps until this stalker blows over. And I think he might be right.”

Her eyes opened and locked on mine as her shoulders sagged. “I agree. I don’t want to upset someone who’s already obsessing.”

I cupped her face. “I’m telling my brothers though.”

She smiled up at me. “I hear we might not be the only ones with good news soon.”

My gaze drifted over her face. She was my fiancée. Soon to be my wife. “Seems the Kaine brothers have a thing for Calusa Key women.”

“We are pretty special.”

I kissed her forehead, her nose, her lips. “I love you so much.”

22

Personal cheering section

Olivia

Idid not like staying home. Not one little bit. Before we got engaged it seemed so logical. I would work while Linc enjoyed his summer camp. Chris would travel. But now that we were engaged I hated it. It felt wrong to be apart. It felt even wronger to be apart knowing there was someone out there watching us.

I didn’t mind the bodyguards. They might be the only thing keeping me sane, actually. So I settled into our fancy hotel suite in Houston with a great sigh of relief.

It felt good to be away from the tension on Calusa Key. It felt even better to be with Chris.

“I HAVE MY OWN ROOM!” Linc yelled from down the hallway, as if he didn’t always have his own room at home. I suppose a hotel room was different somehow.

The Four Seasons had a separate residential tower and this was where they placed their high profile guests. Not only did it have a second, guarded entrance, but the suites had more apartment like features. In this case we each had our own bedroom, plus a regular, small living room and kitchen. It wasn’t opulent but for a hotel it was spacious.

And apparently, exciting.

The team knew we were dating (but not engaged) and so far had treated us to a bottle of champagne and a little welcome basket of snacks. Linc liked the bucket of bubble gum and couldn’t stop giggling over the sunflower seeds.

I wore my engagement ring on a chain around my neck that was long enough to keep tucked inside my shirt. After all this time I hated to keep yet another secret, but since it didn’t technically change anything, I didn’t mind.

At the game that night we sat in the crowd as Chris Kaine’s personal cheering section. As much fun as I had on the field last season, this was just as exciting. It was completely different to experience the game as it was happening, and something else entirely to sit in the crowd with your heart in your throat, cheering on someone you love.

We sat a few rows away from some of the other wives and girlfriends. They all waved at us and welcomed us to the club. No one else had kids but over the summer so far Linc took that as an opportunity to be special. Whenever someone had an extra souvenir, treat, or soda, it always went to Linc.

Chris strode out onto the field so sure of himself. He searched the crowd, smiling when he found us waving at him. Then he shot me a wink.

I felt like a teenager with a crush on a famous baseball player. Except my crush was real...and it was returned.

“Cotton candy?” Carrie, Wes’s wife, stood beside us with a big blue ball of cotton candy in her hands.

They all seriously spoiled my kid (and I loved it.) “Sure.” I took the cone from her but before I passed it to Linc, I took a handful for myself.

“Hey!” Linc protested, hungrily grabbing the rest from me.

“Hey what? It’s the mom tax.”

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