“What’s true?”
“That you and Zander Shaw are a thing.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks. I see now why Zander doesn’t like the whole first and last name. It makes him sound more like a thing than a person.
Gillian rolls her eyes. “Please. You two are all anyone is buzzing about. Just confirm it for us.”
I glance toward the field. Zander is throwing the ball back and forth with Emmett, muscles flexing, and then—God help me—his eyes catch mine, that half smile tugging at his lips.
“Yeah. We’re together,” I say.
The squeals erupt. Sadie fans herself while Briar swoons.
Finally, Briar says, “I was starting to think we’d have to lock you two in the barn until you admitted it.”
Before I can answer, Beau drops onto the bleacher beside me. “Grown men playing softball. This is what happens when you have too much free time.”
“You don’t sound impressed.” I chuckle.
“Yeah, well. Why would I be? I’ve lived through this.”
“You played baseball?” I ask.
“Fuck no. Foster care picnic every year. Zander was the strikeout king. Couldn’t hit the ball for shit.”
I glance at Zander again. “No way. He hasn’t said anything about that.”
“We used to bet on how many swings it’d take.”
“Well, I’m sure he’s going to do great.” I straighten my back.
Beau laughs. “Said like any good girlfriend.”
I turn toward him. I assume Zander has told Beau, but we haven’t talked about it. Is Beau happy or upset about the status of our relationship? He’s smiling, smug and cocky, but still smiling, so maybe he’s okay with it?
The game starts, and we all face the diamond. It takes the second inning before Zander gets up to bat, and after Beau’s insight, I’m more worried than I was before.
Zander steps into the batter’s box. The pitch comes. Crack. The ball soars over the shortstop’s head and skips into the outfield. Zander sprints out of the box, rounds first, and slides into second. When he stands, his eyes seek me out.
I clap and cheer for him along with the other ladies.
“Well, looks like his strikeout days are over.” Beau shakes his head. “Must be the Romy effect.”
Something warms in my chest.
The game passes in a blur of banter, laughter, and cheers. And when it’s over, we’ve won. Zander went three-for-three.
Beau is still shaking his head. “I can’t fucking believe it.”
Later, as the bleachers clear, I turn to Beau. “Hey,” I say, pulling him aside.
He puts his hands in the pockets of his slacks, smirking.
“You know?”
“Yeah, I know.” He rolls his eyes.
“And?” I bite my lip and fidget with my fingers.
