“Glad you’re back,” Dennis says.
I look around and see every person is celebrating my return. Callan claps me on the shoulder. Hunter yells something unintelligible. My heart is full.
She’s watching me with an expression that makes my chest tight. Pride and love and something fierce underneath.
Coach glances between Kendall and me, his brow furrowing slightly before he turns back to the crowd.
Thirty minutes later, the dedication ends, and people scatter. Some head for the food; others cluster around their portraits for photos. The camera crew packs up, and the noise level rises as everyone relaxes.
Callan drags me over to the auction pieces, and I see the collection together for the first time. I’m blown away.
Hunter grabs different teammates who are close and lines us up like we’re posing for a Christmas card. “Everyone, say cheese for my mom,” he says.
She’s the Angels’ biggest fan.
Eventually, the crowd thins, and I notice where everyone is. I say my goodbyes to Smiley, then make my way toward the corridor. I take one of the long hallways that connects back to the conference rooms in the building.
“Mr. Cross,” she says in a hushed whisper.
I turn and tuck my hands in my pockets, grinning. “Miss Hart? Can I fucking help you?”
“Actually, yes. There’s something I need to discuss with you privately,” she says, leading me into a conference room.
It’s small and beige, and it has old game plays scribbled on the whiteboard. It smells like stale coffee and dry-erase markers. When the door clicks shut behind us, I bury my face into her neck.
“You smell so good,” I whisper.
“I couldn’t stop looking at you,” she says. “I did what you asked.”
Muffled voices filter through the walls. Her eyes are bright and full of want.
“Mmm. Did you?”
“What are you going to do about it?” She guides me toward the table.
Kendall grips my shirt, and I taste the champagne she was drinking. Everything narrows down to this very moment. I slide my tongue into her mouth, and she groans.
“Move in with me,” I whisper.
She pulls back enough to look at me, her lips swollen. “What?”
I steal a kiss. “I want you closer. Like in my bed every fucking morning and every night. I want your favorite coffee mug in my cabinet and your shampoo in my shower.”
She laughs, softly. “Really?”
“Please?” I brush my thumb across her cheekbone.
The pause stretches long enough that my heart starts to pound hard. Every doubt I’ve ever had about us starts creeping in, and I fear I’ve pushed too far or rushed us. Maybe I want too much.
Then her face breaks into a grin, nose scrunching, eyes crinkling at the corners.
“Okay, Pattycakes, I’d love to move in with you.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” She laughs, and I can tell she’s giddy. “I want to spend every free second I have with you.”
I’m nearly dizzy with relief. I lean forward, kissing her sweetly. She grabs my tie and pulls me down to her, and the playfulness turns into something hotter. My hands find her waist, and hers slide up my chest, fingers working at my collar, without breaking the kiss.
