She started at the shouted warning, her pulse kicking up as her gaze snapped past Emil—just in time to spot the blur of a ball slicing through the air toward them. There was no time for him to turn, no time for her to warn him. Her hand shot out on instinct, braced against his shoulder, and shoved.
Emil toppled backward off the bench with a startled grunt, landing in a sprawl just as the ball whipped past inches from where he’d been sitting. It thudded somewhere on the ground behind them. A wave of laughter rippled through the crowd, laced with mock cheers and scattered claps.
From the ground, Emil gaped at her. “You couldn’t just catch it?”
“No glove,” she said sweetly, unable to stop herself from giggling. “Safety first.”
Emil broke into laughter and allowed his neighbors to haul him to his feet. Once he had wiped the grit from his pants, he adjusted his hat and gave her a wry look.
“Tell me this isn’t the most exciting game you’ve ever attended.”
“It’s up there.”
“Then a bruised backside is worth it.” He moved to regain his seat on the bench, but she flung out a hand.
“Wait!”
He gazed around in alarm. “What? What is it?”
“Just wait.” She made a grand show of draping the bench with the blanket, folding it once, twice, then a third time until it reached a ridiculous height. With a flourish, she patted the top like she was presenting a prize. “Your throne is ready, my lord.”
The look Emil gave her was half exasperation, half wonder. It was a look that, with anyone else, would make her doubt herself. But not with Emil. With him, she could be odd, playful, entirely herself. For reasons she still didn’t fully understand, he never seemed to tire of it.
“Aren’t you a doll,” he said, flipping the blanket back until only one layer remained. Then he dropped onto it with a contented sigh. “That’s better. If you’re nice, I might let you sit on the other half.”
“Deal,” she giggled, rising just enough for him to slide the edge under her. She wiggled a little, testing it. “You’re right. My behind is infinitely more comfortable.”
They grinned at each other, and she reveled in her ability to tease, to joke, to flirt. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d felt this good about herself. When she hadn’t felt the compulsion to shrink herself, to play the role of someone more palatable. It was incredible how being with one person could change everything. How it could free the person locked inside that she’d always been meant to be.
“Thank you,” she said abruptly. “For all of this. But mostly, thank you for encouraging me to be myself.”
“I happen to like yourself very much.”
“Even when I shove you to the ground?”
“Especially then.” He tilted his head, thoughtful. “I don’t get surprised easily anymore, not after years as a journalist and then a detective. Things tend to follow patterns. A few twists here and there, sure, but rarely anything truly unexpected. Then you showed up.”
She blinked, caught off guard by the earnestness in his voice.
“From the start, you’ve kept me guessing,” he went on. “Every time I think I know what you’ll say or do, you go one step further. And somehow, it never feels like too much. I like it. Honestly? I think I need it.”
“Then you’re in luck. Because I doubt I’ll ever change.”
He sobered, his gaze intense and unrelenting. “Good.”
She could see it now. Not with perfect clarity, but enough to make her heart ache. Them, years from now, married with a handful of children. Still laughing, still surprising each other, still finding new ways to belong. She saw safety there, and tenderness, and a love that seemed too big for her chest to contain. It was almost unbelievable, this vision of herself so cherished, so free. Yet with every breath, the picture grew sharper. Perhaps it was time to believe it could truly be hers.
She tucked her arm in his and turned back to the game, stars in her eyes.
Chapter 24
Emil couldn’t stop sneaking glances at Olive as he drove them to the restaurant. He needed to pay more attention to the road; Mack had promised him an early grave if he got even so much as a scratch on his automobile. But the bumpy dirt road had nothing on the chattering woman beside him.
Pink-cheeked and glowing, she listed her predictions on which Seattle players might be called up for the minor leagues with an adorable zest. He nodded along, inordinately pleased that she felt comfortable enough to push through the complex layers of anxiety and be her true self. That she would allow herself to blossom before him. Because when she did, she lit up like the stars in the sky. Sparkled so brightly he found it could barely tear his gaze away.
“You’re certain you’re warm enough?” he interrupted.
“As I told you the last two times, yes.” She held up her hands, wrapped in his sister’s fur muff. “My fingers are perfectly toasty.”
