Lucas
Nothing about you could ever be a burden.
But seriously: step away from the HIIT.
Scottie
Nah, I have fifteen minutes to go. See you at 11 for REAL boot camp, Lukie.
Lucas
See you soon, Quinn.
I get back to my workout, embarrassed at how much easier the next fifteen minutes are to get through. My legs feel lighter, and my breathing is steadier. It’s not because Lucas reenergized me. It’s because of the two-minute break.
That’s all.
If I have to bite my lip to keep from smiling when I shower and get ready, no big deal. And it’s not like anyone can hear me squeal on the drive to work, bopping to whatever pop-country song is playing on the radio as I wonder if today’s the day he’ll finally cross the line we’ve both been tracing in pencil all week—and what he’ll do when he does.
None of this is getting in the way of me doing my work.
In fact, I’ve never been more excited about what I do. The realization hits me out of nowhere, surprising me enough that I slow, just for a moment.
Is baseball ops actually my dream job? Or is it the Lucas effect?
“Someone’s happy,” one of the older groundskeepers drawls over the hum of the mowers as I walk past him into the stadium.
“Someone shouldn’t make comments to women about their smiles, Bernie,” I say as I walk past. I’m smiling, though, and he smiles back.
In the back of my mind, I know I should be chastising myself or giving myself a mental shake—who are you, and what have you done with Scottie Quinn?—but the flu seems to have flipped off my self-preservation switch, and I keep forgetting to turn it back on.
Upstairs, the smell of brown sugar and cinnamon with just a hint of espresso bitterness hits me before I’m even at my office. I look down to hide my grin. Meant to Bean is a world-class coffee shop, but there aren’t actually unlimited coffee flavors, so this is one I recognize: the Brown Sugar Shakedown.
My mouth waters as I turn into my office.
Where I expect to find coffee, I also find Lucas—feet up on my desk, hands clasped behind his head.
Sitting in my chair.
“A-hem,” I say. “Make yourself at home, I guess?”
He smiles. “Thanks, I have.”
I round my desk, ready to bump his feet off, when he drops them and jumps up in one fluid motion. He’s standing inches from me, looking down at me while I look up. His breathing speeds up, and it makes the blood in my veins rush faster.
“Good morning,” he says, his eyes warm and focused in a way that makes me feel like I’m the only thing in the room worth looking at.
“Good morning,” I answer.
“You look beautiful today,” he says in the hushed voice he’s mastered that makes everything feel both taboo and exciting.
“You are a flirt,” I say. My glasses are perched on my nose like armor, but I peer up at him over the lenses. My hair’s in loose waves, and I’m wearing flared navy pants and an oversized soft blue blouse.
Did I wear the blouse because the last time I did, Lucas stared just a second too long?
Obviously.
“I’m only a flirt with you.”
