She looks away, biting on her lip. “I didn’t know that.”
“I thought you did.”
She slowly shakes her head. “I knew he would like you.”
I smile. “Really? It’s my charm, huh?”
She gives me a dry look. “No, you probably reminded him of himself. Cocky, confident, and a showboater.”
I laugh. “Showboater? I don’t show off.”
“You paid me for a solid week just to use a photo of me.”
I point to her. “Solid investment.” I hold up my phone to show her the photo, and she rolls her eyes again. “I’m also really funny.”
She shrugs, holding back a grin. “You can be a bit humorous.”
I waggle my brows at her. “I always make you laugh.”
She holds my gaze. “No. DoesMyBreathStink60 makes me laugh. You make me stabby.”
I grin, taking a small step forward. “How long did you know it was me?”
“Since the beginning,” she says, watching me take slow steps to her.
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Why didn’t you?” she throws back with a cocked brow.
“I felt like it was the only way you’d talk to me.”
“And I felt like I could enjoy you without it being you.”
I pause, holding her gaze. “But that’s changed?”
Her teeth come down on her bottom lip as her eyes search mine. The air in the room is thicker than game-day ice, and I feel my heart trying to come out of my chest. This is a core memory, and I will myself not to forget anything that happens. Or how utterly beautiful she is. Her lashes are long, her nose shiny, and her lips glossed up to perfection. She looks good enough to eat, and I’d give my right nut for a taste.
Without a word, she slowly nods, and my heart kicks up in speed. I smile, taking another step, almost coming toe-to-toe with her. “Are those tickets still at will call for me?”
My whole body goes on alert as I hold her shy gaze. I love how she always maintains eye contact. She may be shy or nervous, but she always looks me in the eye. I nod as I trail a finger along the back of her hand. She sucks in a sharp breath as I tell her, “Standing tickets for Ambrosia Mercer.”
She threads her fingers through mine. I squeeze them, and she does it back, sending heat up my arm. “Let me know the next time you’re playing, and I’m there.”
“Will do,” I somehow get out, even though my heart is pounding like mad in my throat.
“Can I ask you something?” she says, so quietly I almost don’t hear her.
“Anything.”
“Anything?”
“Any fucking thing, Ro. I want to tell you it all.”
“You do?”
“And more,” I promise, clenching my fists in my pockets. “And I want to know anything and everything about you.”
Her lips quirk. “I’m boring.”
