I thought about Wren leaving our dinner last night and apologizing to me, which wasn’t necessary. “You should have fun too. Which is why I’m demanding no filming next weekend. You took off and we’re having a staycation, where I do nothing but take care of you.”
Peering over her coffee mug, she looked at me. “Staycation sounds amazing, but no need to take care of me. You’re working hard this week too. We can take care of one another, yeah?”
“Last night, he reportedly tweaked his hip,” the sportscaster was saying, “and we are waiting for additional details. So far, Coach hasn’t said anything…”
“Damn, they need to know everything, those bloodsuckers.”
Shoving my hand in Wren’s curls, I tugged her close for a kiss. “That’s what I adore about you. One second, you’re so sweet, talking about us taking care of one another. And the next, you’re calling someone a bloodsucker.”
“Ugh, I know. My temper.”
“It’s okay. You’re a secret mother hen,” I joked. Running my hand up her thigh, I added, “A sexy one.”
“You’re swinging too much.” Wren laughed as she yelled over the net. “It’s not tennis,” she added.
“I’m doing the best I can.” I tapped a ball over the net in our game of pickleball.
“Not easy being the one who doesn’t know the most, huh?”
It was Saturday afternoon in our staycation weekend, and after a lesson at The Country Club the day before, we’d decided to do something light today.
“Your stroke is coming along just fine.”
I hit the ball into the net and gave up, crossing the court to kiss Wren. We were at an indoor pickleball place she occasionally went to with her work team. My lips met hers and all the competitive banter fell away.
“Does this mean you are giving up?” Wren teased me, running a hand through my hair.
“It does. Plus, I’m hungry.”
“Well, we don’t want you to get hangry…” she taunted.
“Or Rourke to get mad. We’ve been out all morning.”
Tapping her paddle to my ass, she asked, “Are you falling for me or my dog?”
“Both?”
I was. It had been an easy week cohabitating. Wren worked so hard, and I was shuttled back and forth to The Country Club to film while rubbing elbows with celebrities.
“Let’s go eat.” She took my hand, ignoring my answer.
We started walking off the court and toward the lobby. “I’m serious, Bird.”
She elbowed me in the ribs. “That nickname. It makes me sound like I’m a weird, peculiar bird.”
“Okay, Birdie, I won’t shorten it. But I’m serious when I say both. I’m falling for you and your dog, and I like being here with you. And while I’m at it, I want to be with you more.”
“I’m glad,” she said, clicking the locks on her car.
I snatched the door open for her and she slid into the driver’s seat. “You’re glad, that’s it? If I say I like you driving me too, will that win me some points?” I added when I got into the passenger side.
Wren ignored my chatter, focusing on lunch and getting back to Rourke. “Should we pick up lunch? Make something? Call for delivery?”
“We can call for something. I can even send someone from the production staff—”
“No, that’s crazy talk. We’ll order.” She pulled the car out of the spot and started to drive.
“Birdie, I want to spend a lot of time here.”
