I’m pretty sure the man went crazy the last time I saw him. I’m not into crazy—on or off the field. So, I called the center ref over before something even more insane happened.
Lucca’s eyes sweep over to me—immediately.Why?
I turn my back on him, peering at a five-foot-tall vase to my right. It’s tall. And pretty. And all at once, I’m more than just a little interested in the etchings over the hardened clay. If I can’t see him, maybe he’ll stop looking at me.
But I feel more than see Lucca draw nearer. I itch at the hairline at the nape of my neck and take one little peek. “Crap,” I mutter under my breath. He’s closer than I thought. As in, he has moved two feet away from me to admire the sculpture next to the vase I’m getting up close and personal with.
Where in the world is Fran? She talked me into this. She and my mother. Which of them is going to get me out of this mess?
I inwardly groan, reminding myself that I’m a grown-up girlwho can get herself out of messes. In fact, there’s another vase, and all at once, I really,reallywant to inspect it. It happens to be conveniently placed clear across this room. Yards and yards away from Pretty Boy Cruz.
Without bothering to look back at Lucca or make eye contact with any other Red Tail in the room, I cross the carpet to the other side to look at the blue vessel that has a rim and mouth that wave like the ocean in a storm. It’s lovely. A little hypnotizing. Or maybe that’s because I’ve been staring for a full two minutes in the same spot, not allowing my eyes to search anywhere else. When?—
“Do you like this one?”
I gasp and slap a hand over my heart.Lucca.When did he walk over here? I zoned in on this vase and clearly let my guard down.
He smirks at my surprise. Of course he’d laugh at me. Why would I expect anything else?
I give him the smallest of glares—one that says,Leave me alone, dummy.Then, I walk away, without a word. But before I can make my way back to vase number one, Lucca is right on my heels.
I spin, facing him, and stopping him in his tracks and one whole inch from my body. He’s too close. All I can smell and see isLucca. I press two fingers to his broad chest and step back, putting space between us. “Are you following me?”
“Yes,” he says, not even attempting to deny it. The man has lost his pretty little mind.
I shake my head, swallow, and lift my eyes to his. “Why?” I spit out. “Why would you do that?”
“I thought we could talk. You didn’t want to talk on the field and?—”
“We were working!” I hiss. “We were in the middleof a game. I was refereeing. You were supposed to be playing. And you suddenly wanted to chit-chat?”
“I did. I thought we could have a civil conversation, but you weren’t very cooperative.”
Again, not what I expect from cocky, arrogant Lucca. I scoff out a lifeless laugh. “Civil? You have to be kidding. Since when do you have anything polite to say to me?”
He shoves both hands into the pockets of his slacks. The man annoyingly knows how to wear a pair of pants. “That move you did,” he says, ignoring my question, “on the Little League field—no one rainbow flicksandheads the ball. That’s power. That’sprofessionalskill.”
“Are you telling me that you’re pestering me even more than normal, all because I showed you up on a kid’s soccer field?” I groan out a loud and tired sigh. This man is exhausting.
“Whoa,” he huffs out. “Show me up? You didnotshow me up. It was just a nice move. One that got me thinking. That’s all.”
“I don’t have time for this.” I turn to walk away.
But Lucca—full of surprises tonight—catches me by the hand. His fingers grasp the end of mine, and yet I feel it in my toes. “I think you do have time. You aren’t at work. You aren’t with Wyatt. You’re wandering around, looking at art.” He shrugs. “We could wander together. Talk while we look.”
This is a trick. Lucca Cruz doesn’t want to wander. Not with me. This man has never liked me, and while I’m supposed to be unbiased as a ref, if I’m being honest, I’ve never liked him either.
“Actually, I’m meeting someone. There will be no wandering. No talking.”
I don’t care that his handsome face falters a little. Lucca Cruz is the epitome of a ladies’ man. His charm can deceivedesperate hearts all over America. But I’m not desperate, and Lucca’s charm won’t work on me.
“Maggie!” a feminine voice calls out to me.
Fran. Thank the heavens above. She’s here.
“Hi,” I say, my heart pattering in my chest. I turn until my back faces Lucca. I don’t want her thinking I’ve let this Don Juan seduce me.
“You made it!” Fran says.
