“Dating, huh?”
“Publicly,” I remind him.
He glances around the empty concourse in exaggerated suspicion. “We’re not so public now, though. There are no cameras.” He steps closer. “No reporters.”
“So?” I ask, almost breathless the nearer he gets.
He leans all the way in, his lips against my ear, his voice dropping. “No parents.”
That’s when he kisses me.
And my word, a woman could wait her whole life for a kiss like this and it would be worth it.
His hands slide to my waist, warm and sure, and I grab the front of his shirt like I need something solid to hold onto. He smells like fabric softener and shampoo, and it’s so fresh, I could sink my nose into his hair.
If I weren’t busy kissing his face off.
The kiss deepens slowly, deliciously, until it feels like time is stretching and dissolving into nothing.
I could stay in this kiss forever.
And we do. For at least an eternity.
But when time folds back in on itself, I feel Lucas smile against my mouth.
“You have no idea,” he murmurs, brushing his forehead against mine, “how long I’ve been waiting to do that in public.”
I laugh softly, still a bit breathless.
“I thought you were relieved there were no cameras.” I brush his lips with mine. “No reporters.” I speak directly into his mouth, tasting his warm, minty breath. “And definitely no parents,” I say, tugging his bottom lip into mine.
Lucas pulls me closer, his hand sliding up my back until his fingers disappear into my hair, tilting my face like he’s savoring something he waited far too long to taste.
“Good point,” he says, as our foreheads bump together and our noses brush, neither of us quite willing to break the kiss even long enough to talk properly. “But one day, I’m going to kiss you in the middle of that field for everyone to see.”
“Didn’t you hear?” I ask, my eyes closed, my lips hovering over his. “Practice makes perfect.”
Lucas goes very still for half a second.
Then he grins. “Quinn,” he says, like he’s just had a dangerous idea.
The next thing I know, he’s hefted me over his shoulder and is carrying me toward the field, where he sets me down right on the pitcher’s mound, the dirt still warm from the afternoon sun.
“Better?” he asks, pulling me back into him like the answer is obvious and kissing me again, one hand cradling the back of my neck while the other steadies me against his chest.
I laugh against his mouth, happier than I’ve ever felt.
“The best.”
EPILOGUE
Lucas
Ishould have known that the minute Scottie’s family left, mine would descend.
It’s Spring Training, for Pete’s sake, and we’re a baseball family.
But today, we’re not gathered for Logan or me or even Coop.
