And don’t get me started on her body. Jesus. She’s got so many curves it makes my head spin. I’ve never dated a woman like Willa before, but I always do a double take when I see a woman like that.
Whyhaven’tI ever dated a woman with curves?
I know the answer. It’s not done. Not in my family, anyway. In my family, we marry trophy wives, not bigger girls like Willa. I glance down at her again. Her cheeks are still pink from the words of Spencer the dickwad.
God, I want to punch that asshole.
She must sense me looking because she peeks at me. Our eyes meet, and it’s then I notice the color. They’re a stunning golden brown, the same shade as her hair. Not only is the color alluring, but they’re big, bright, and is that a sparkle I see?
Leaning in, I ask her, “You having a good time?”
She shrugs. I understand why she might not be as enthusiastic as one might be. One, she’s here with her co-workers instead of friends and two, she’s got Spencer watching us like a stalker. That would make anyone uncomfortable.
Willa leans closer and whispers, “You’re not a serial killer, right?”
The question startles a laugh out of me. “No.” I chuckle again. “Not anymore.”
My response does the same for her. She laughs, and it’s more of a pretty tinkling sound. I could get used to listening to that. “As long as you stopped serial killing.”
“The second I met you, those days were over.”
“Oh.” She blushes, and the urge to kiss her freckled cheeks is overwhelming. “I’m glad I could be a positive influence.”
Giving her shoulder a little squeeze, I turn back to the game. It’s the bottom of the ninth inning, and we’re tied. “We need one more run,” I lean in and tell her. “This next guy up to bat–”
“Yeah?”
This gives me a brilliant idea. “I’ll bet you dinner he hits a home run.”
“You want to have dinner?” She pauses. “With me?”
“Sure.” I turn back to the game. “He’s up.”
“You’re saying, if he hits a home run, you’ll buy me dinner?”
“That’s right.” The batter in question, Cael Markus, has a hot bat right now. His contract will be up at the end of the season, and I know, for a fact, he wants nothing more than to stay in Chicago. His family loves it here. They’re embedded.
“If he doesn’t get a home run, does that mean I’m buying?”
“Sure.” No way. I’ve never let a woman pay for our meal. Not that many have offered. Or any. No woman I’ve ever dated has offered to pay for anything. It’s rather refreshing being out with a woman who doesn’t expect the world. I suppose it’s because she doesn’t know who I am, but something tells me that Willa is just as she seems and even money wouldn’t change that. I could be wrong, of course. Lord knows I’ve been wrong before.
Willa holds her hand out to me. “You’ve got a deal.” I place my palm in hers, and warmth rushes up my arm. Warmth not caused by the summer temps. They come from her. We shake, and I keep her hand in mine. Leaning forward, I watch as the first pitch zips past Markus.
“Strike one!” The umpire yells loud enough for us all to hear.
The second pitch is released, and I hold my breath.
“Strike two!”
“Uh-oh.” Her eyes are huge. “I hope you like hotdogs from a food truck because that’s all I can afford.”
Placing my palm over my heart, I repeat what I said earlier. “You wound me. Have a little faith in my boy, Cael.”
“You sound like you’re friends.” She snickers.
I miss watching the third pitch because my focus was on Willa, but it was called a ball, thank goodness.
Staring down at the diamond again, I say, “Come on, Cael. Hit the damn ball.”
