Page 61 of The Curveball
“Thanks for telling me. I feel a little better knowing I won’t be entirely clueless when we meet.”
“Same to you, Birdie.” I stand and take hold of her hand. “Now, how about we have date-night-in number two and watch a movie? I want to turn my brain off.”
Wren grins like I’ve made her life. “It’s only one in the afternoon.”
“We’ll make it a marathon.”
She lets out a tiny squeal. Geez, if I knew she wanted to binge watch TV so much, I would’ve suggested it right away.
“I’m all about this,” she says. “I’ve got to admit, I’msotired. I think it’s still the headache, but—”
“Birdie!” I huff. “You’ve got to tell me these things. If you’re still getting headaches, let me give you pain meds and rub your feet or something. I’m not a mind reader.”
“No, you’re a control freak.”
“Don’t flirt your way out of this, woman. Now get those hot sweatpants back on and meet me on the couch in five. We’re not moving until it’s dark outside.”
Her eyes light up, and that sexy lip-bite she has nailed down takes over. “Maybe if you’re lucky, I’ll let you spoon me again, Marks.”
I have to muffle the urge to growl at her. Any chance to put my hands on this woman, I will freaking take it. “You better follow through on that promise, Birdie. Now, I have expectations.”
She laughs and turns toward the hallway, pausing before she crosses over to her half of the house, and looks back at me. “Well, now I’m forced to say it.”
“Say what?”
Wren’s face softens. “You’re not such a bad temporary boyfriend.”
I pound my chest, if only to make her laugh, but looking back I’m certain this is the moment I start to fall in love with Wren Fox.
CHAPTER19
WREN
“You agreed, Birdie.”Griffin holds open the door to the indoor practice field and waits for me to go inside.
“I know, but I’ve always been on the outside of everyone. The silent observer. Never in the inner circle.”
“What are you talking about? You’ve always been a King to us. Now, hold my hand.”
“You’re bossy.”
“Yes. I am.” Griffin gives me my favorite smile. The one where only half his mouth twists up in a way that seems like he’s about to plan some mischief. He doesn’t tell me to hold his hand again, merely holds it out, waiting patiently.
Part of me wants to resist him if it means he’ll get growly again, but the other part is having a harder time resisting anything when it comes to him. Our fingers lace together, and it’s smooth gossamer where past touches from men have been sandpaper scraping over my skin.
Date three is about to get underway.
Well, more like date ten if you count all the spooning on the couch we’ve been doing. After his movie marathon date, for the last nine days it feels like our favorite thing to do is end up curled up on his big sectional until one of us falls asleep.
Last night, I sprawled over his lap, drooling on his thigh all night. He didn’t move but to drape my body with a blanket hanging over the back of the couch. His big body stayed sitting all night, head flopped back, his arm possessively strung over my waist.
I’m still flustered knowing I woke up to my arms curled around his leg, hugging him like a pillow.
Today is a different date. We’re going out with the Kings, and we haven’t smoothed out our story.
Are we together? Do we fill them in on my daddy issue? Every time I asked, Griffin simply laughed and said we’d roll with it. Not helpful.
“Deep breaths, Birdie,” he whispers, tugging me toward the massive field.