Page 79 of Drop Shot
“Which one is that?”
A sound that can only be described as pure disgust comes out of her. “I can’t believe you’re asking me that. It’s the long neck one. The first one Alan Grant sees.”
“Ah.” I nod in understanding. “I see.”
She sighs. “Doyouhave a favorite dinosaur?”
“The one with the frill.”
Her nose wrinkles. “The Dilophosaurus?”
“No. The one he lays on when Blondie is looking at the poop.”
She grabs the remote and pauses the movie, sitting up so she can face me. I don’t think she realizes she’s placed her hand on my bare stomach and I’m not about to tell her.
“How dare you refer to Dr. Ellie Sattler asBlondie. I’m disowning you. And that’s a triceratops.”
“Well, that one’s my favorite.” I shrug, trying to hide my grin. I love that she’s so passionate about these movies. She’s so pink and girly that it’s unexpected. “It has horns. It’s cool.”
“At least you didn’t say T-Rex.” She picks up the remote and un-pauses the screen before settling back beside me. “That would’ve been such a basic bitch answer. Triceratops is close though.”
“Yours is pretty basic. I always see that one on book covers and stuff about dinosaurs.”
She sits up again, blond hair sweeping forward. Her lips are parted in offense. “You know what?” She shakes her head. “I’m not even going to deem that with a response.”
I laugh and she gives my pec a light swat. I grab her hand, holding it there and her mouth parts more. Fuck, I want to kiss her. But I have no reason to. We’re alone in the hotel room. No one’s watching. We’re not putting on a show for the public, our friends, or Jackson.
If I kiss her now, it’ll bereal.
Whimsy makes the decision for me when she turns her head away. I do my best to hide my disappointment.
“I also like the velociraptor.” I snap my fingers together. “That’s it.”
“What’s it?” she asks, brow lifting with curiosity.
“Don’t most couples have lovey-dovey names for each other? I’ll call you Clever Girl.”
“Oh, god,” she groans.
“You have to admit, it’s a good one. What are you going to call me? I deserve a pet name too.”
“Pain in my ass.”
I stifle a snort. “Try again.”
“I’ll have to think on it,” she says to appease me.
We don’t speak for the rest of the movie and when it’s over she grabs more ice for my knee before settling back into bed beside me. She yanks the covers up to her chin and rolls to her side away from me.
I try not to take offense.
This isn’t real, it’s just a job to her, and I’d do well to remember that.
“How does it look today?” I venture to ask my team doctor as he examines my knee.
He’s pushed it up toward my chest and stretched it back out numerous times. All while muttering under his breath. Jackson stands off to the side, typing furiously on his phone.
“You’ll be healed for the French Open but you’re going to have to tape it andrest,” he emphasizes the last word. “Take the next two days off, not including today—no exercise, no practice.”
