“Okay, fine,” she agrees begrudgingly a few seconds later. “The maple bacon.”
There’s no stopping the groan that leaves me at her choice becausefuck yesthat sounds good. “I like the way you think, Donnelly.”
She tucks her hair behind her ear. I catch the faint pink tinge in her cheeks while she avoids looking my way and stares at the display case.
“Also a Boston cream, please,” she adds hastily, pointing to the custard-stuffed chocolate iced donut in the corner. She peeks at me. “Is that cool with you?”
“Yeah.”
I’m not about to say no if it means spending more time splitting donuts with her. She tries to offer me money while our selections are packed up. I shake my head.
“I’ve got it.”
“If we’re sharing, then let me pay for half.” Her lips slide together and her gaze cuts to the side. “I don’t want you to think I owe you something because you paid.”
Something cinches tightly in my chest at her hushed yet guarded tone.
“It’s just donuts. No strings, I promise.” I take the bag and guide her away from the food truck with my hand resting lightly at the small of her back. I keep my tone joking. “I don’t need to resort to such underhanded tactics to get you to say yes to me, baby. Unless I can use these donuts to bargain with you to get you to wear a Heston jersey to our next home game this week.”
She exhales, seeming more relaxed. “Not a chance. I won’t be there or at any other games. Friday was a one time thing.”
“Are you doubting my persuasion skills? I got you to give me half of my favorite donut, didn’t I? We’re just getting started here.”
She shoots me a wry glance and points to a round stone table in the shade of some maple trees that still have most of their orange and red leaves. “There’s a nice spot over there.”
We each take a seat on the stone benches on opposite sides of the table.
I pass her share of our donuts to her once I divide them. “You know, I can’t keep calling you Donnelly. We’re splitting donuts. That makes us friends in my book. I’m Easton.”
“I know.” The corners of her mouth lift.
I perk up. She didn’t know my name the other night when we left the bar together. “You looked me up?”
She breaks out in a radiant grin and shows me her phone. It’s opened to a text conversation with her brother. He rags on her for lettingEaston fucking bag of dicks Blakecarry her out of the bar. My brows shoot up and I laugh.
“That’s quite the mouthful of a name. I don’t know if it’ll fit on my ID. I’ll have to go the initials route.” I brace my forearms on the table. “So you know my name. If you don’t tell me yours, I guess I’ll be forced to call you Donnelly forever.”
She shakes her head, pretty hazel eyes gleaming. “It’s Maya.”
“Maya.” I like the sound of it. “Maya Donnelly.”
“Okay, stop saying my name.” She covers my mouth with a hand when I start to murmur it again. “For real.”
I give her palm a quick kiss, chuckling when she whips it back to her side of the table. She can’t quite stifle a laugh and crams a large bite of maple bacon in her mouth. I mirror her and spend several moments in heaven at the taste. Sweet and savory, what a combo.
“Goddamn, that’s good. Bacon makes everything better.”
She hums in agreement. I finish off the maple bacon in another bite and go for the Boston cream next, saving my favorite for last. It takes no time at all to demolish my portion of the Boston cream before she’s even finished her first donut half. I hold my last one up, anticipation building.
For a minute, I debate sending a photo of my little cheat snack to the guys. It’s something we like to do. Another tradition the older players pass down to the incoming rookies that bonds us as a team.
I would send it, but I want this moment with Maya to myself.
“Guess I’ll be going for an extra run later for indulging like this.” I take a bite and hold a fist to my mouth, fucking blissed out on the best donut in Connecticut. “Worth it.”
“So worth it,” Maya mumbles, more to herself than me.
She’s in her own world, absorbed in enjoying her treat. And I’m wrapped up in watching her.
