Page 113 of Really Truly Yours

His eyes do that adorable crinkle thing again. “You good, Sydnee?”

Fixing my stare on the massive championship ring, I nod. “I’m good.”

“You seem tense.”

I give a flimsy laugh. “Who, me?”

Quiet for a moment, he squeezes my fingers. “Allow yourself to have some fun, okay?”

How does he already know me this well? I’m always the responsible one. Fun is hard for me. Why would any man want that?”

I run my finger along the bumpy, jeweled crown of the ring. “That’s some piece of jewelry you’ve got there.”

“Too much? Kinda gawdy?” He wriggles his hand.

“Borderline.”

He laughs deliciously near my ear.

“But if anyone can pull it off, it’s you.”

“Was I just insulted?”

I roll my eyes to the ceiling. “Please. Anything looks good on you, and you know it.”

The gold in his irises sparks to life with a flash of humor. Quickly, his focus lowers to my lips. “What I wouldn’t give to be alone with you right now…”

His gravelly tone rocks my world. Those unruly butterflies screech to a halt. I poke my nose into the air. “Don’t flatter yourself, Smith.”

A dimple peeks out right as the house lights dim. He frees his hand from mine and stretches his arm along the top of my seat, curling me against his hard chest. With a weak-willed sigh, I surrender.

∞∞∞

The show is hilarious, and to my relief, ninety-percent clean.

Five men and one woman take turns teaming up and producing side-splitting improv skits. The only thing to diminish my enjoyment is their method of beginning each new round with a blaring spotlight on some unsuspecting audience member, who’s asked to stand, give their first name, and tell a few things about themselves. From there, the players use the gleaned info, combined with the sticky notes, to develop multiple very impromptu, very hilarious acts.

I’d duck in my seat if I didn’t suspect that would only increase my chance of being picked on.

Called on.

For more than an hour, the laughter rolls. My eyes water. Gray slaps his knee time and again, laughing and snorting until he can’t breathe.

The lead comedian announces the final round. The spotlight flits and streaks across the crowd. My heart stops when it lands on…Gray, leaving me, mercifully, outside its glow.

“Stand and give us your name, sir.”

Gray complies with a smile, but I spy a twitch at his eye. He gives his first name.

“And what do you do for a living?”

Will he say? I don’t have a solid read on how he feels about being recognized.

“I’m a delivery man.”

I clap my hand over a snicker. I bet he had that planned just in case. As in, delivers balls? Clever.

“What do you deliver? Mail? Packages?”

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