“Don’t get too excited.” I wrinkle my nose. “This is me having an open mind. This is good! You want some?”
“Did you know that, in the seventeenth century, soft pretzels were incorporated into weddings? The bride and groom would make a wish, break the pretzel, then eat it. Kind of like a big, soft, loopy wishbone.” Bennett yanks a chunk of pretzel off, dips it in mustard, and then crams it into his mouth. “Good,” he says between a full bite.
I laugh out loud at his goofiness. “You have mustard on your lip,” I say, tentatively reaching forward. “May I?”
“Oh, this? I want that there,” he says, angling his head back.
With my foam finger–free hand, I tuck my thumb into a napkin and delicately wipe the yellow smudge off his face. The backs of my fingers rest against his cheek as I press against the edge of his lips.
“There,” I say, my fingers grazing his jawline. Heat shoots through the center of my body, and I quickly inhale a breath of air.
“Thanks,” he says quietly. A smile disrupts Bennett’s serious face.
I follow his laugh lines over to his gold-flecked eyes and down to his rosy lips. They’re slightly parted, as though something important to say is on the tip of his tongue. The shouting of “Sweet Caroline” in the stadium grows louder, pulling me out of my daze.
“I know our animal sign traits match well together, but compatibility is, well, it’s complex,” I say, picking up where I think we left off. I crumple the mustard-stained napkin in my hand. “Like I said, we’re only in the third inning. Don’t start thinking of podcast talking points yet.”
Bennett eyes me up. “It’s complex, or you make it complex?”
I look down at the tray of cold food. “Hey, next time I come back here, think you can bring one of those small plastic Dodgers caps with nachos in it?” I ask, ignoring his question completely.
“What? Oh, yeah, sure,” Bennett says, looking distracted. He leans over the railing in the direction of where Owen and I are sitting.
“Also, good news. Harper said she’s open to another date,” I add. “This Friday work for you?”
Bennett refocuses on me. “I promised you I’d be open to it, so I’ll be there.”
“Fantastic. I knew you two would hit it off,” I say. “Okay, I should probably go down to my seat. Don’t forget the nachos hat.”
“Do you want dessert? I can buy you dessert after you eat your nachos,” he asks.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea to mix nachos and ice cream.”
“What about a churro?” he offers.
I shake my head. “That might be too much greasy food for one game.”
“That could be true,” he says, seemingly disappointed.
I carry the food down to Owen, who’s in the middle of a phone call talking about grapes and corks.
“Take these,” I whisper. “I’ll be right back. I forgot something.”
I race up the stairs, foam finger slicing through the air as I run.
“Bennett! Bennett!” I yell.
He turns around, looking surprised.
“I almost forgot to tell you,” I pant. “It’s very important.”
“What is it?” he asks.
“Don’t forget the jalapenos!” I say.
A look of amusement flashes across his face.
“Got it. Jalapenos,” he says. “Anything else, my Queen?”
