Page 66 of Spotlight
“Hell yes.”
I have no response to that. Zero. But I must be feeling better because my libido has entered the chat.
He leaves his leg resting against mine and we finish our food in silence. Is it weird that this is possibly the best date I’ve ever been on?
“I should go check on Greer,” I say as I push my plate away.
“Of course.” He stands and takes his plate and mine. “I’ve got cleanup.”
I stare at him a beat, watching him move around so comfortably in my space. When he realizes I’m sitting and staring at him, he tosses a wink over his shoulder. “Go check on your girl. I’ll have ice cream ready when you’re back.”
Who could say no to that?
15
FLYNN
“Wake up, Hotshot.” Olivia’s voice cuts through my hazy dreams. My lids flutter open and she’s standing over me looking as sexy as ever. She holds out a mug of coffee to me.
“Thanks.” I sit up and take it from her as I get my bearings. “What time is it?”
“Five. You fell asleep while I was checking on Greer. I wasn’t sure what time you needed to be up for baseball.”
“How is she?” I take a sip of coffee and grimace.
“Good. Her fever finally broke.”
“That’s great.” I roll my neck side to side. “Do you have any cream or sugar? This is the strongest fucking coffee I’ve ever tasted.”
She laughs, plopping onto the couch next to me. “There’s sugar in the cabinet next to the microwave.”
I get up, stretching and groaning. I dump two big spoonfuls of sugar into the drink before I attempt another sip. On the way back to the living room, I snag a slice of cold pizza.
Olivia looks tired. Her hair is pulled up in a ponytail, but a few strands hang loose around her face and the nape of her neck. Sexy as hell, but tired.
“Did you sleep at all?” I ask her, taking a seat next to her.
“A bit.”
That feels like a no.
“I can come back after practice today.”
She lets her head fall to the side to look at me. “I’ll be fine. Besides, my grandfather will disown me if his star pitcher isn’t ready for this weekend’s game.”
“He’s really a diehard, huh?”
Some sort of emotion flickers across her face, but it’s gone too quickly for me to make it out. “He loves baseball and the Mustangs more than just about anything.”
“Well, he’s safe. I’m not pitching again until Saturday.”
“Right.”
“Will you come?”
“To the game?” she asks.
“Yeah. I like seeing you in the stands while I’m pitching. You have this anxious, hopeful expression on your face.”
