Mack looks up thoughtfully. “That’s how I know you will. There is no end, the goal post always keeps changing the more amazing she gets.” She releases me and walks off back to Reece and Jared.
Across the row, Becca lifts her head and finds me watching her, then beams. The air leaves my lungs; I haven’t seen that smile in too long.
For years, I told myself she didn’t need big gestures. She never asked for purses. Never asked for fancy dinners. She worked harder than anyone I’ve met and carried half the world on her shoulders. I called her low maintenance. But the truth is, I used that label as an excuse. One I will never use again.
The game drags through the late summer heat. The Bucks lead three to one. Crowd noise swells and fades around us. My arm rests across Becca’s shoulders. Her head leans against me. Cold beer sweats in my hand. Friends fill the seats around us. There isn’t another place on earth I’d rather sit.
Then, her hand slides onto my knee. I feel my phone buzz against my thigh. I shift slightly, pulling it free to glance down.
Rick. I don’t open it, I already know it isn’t good.
Becca’s fingertips begin to trace along the inside of my thigh. I take a slow drink and keep my eyes on the field. Grandad sits two seats away.
Breathing steady, I try to act normal. Her fingers slip higher beneath my shorts. I swallow. Another slow pass. Higher. The edge of my boxer briefs. She barely touches me. Light strokes that make every nerve in my body light up. That’s enough. I set my beer down.
I glance at my phone again, reading the text.
Rick
Big night for you, hope you and the Mrs. enjoyed it. Oh, btw, how are the permits going? They don’t usually disappear like that …
He's watching.The thought settles cold in my chest. It isn’t too surprising; he’s probably seen the footage from all the phones out, and Cascadia is a small town. Not tonight. I pocket my phone. Not tonight.
“Time to go,” I mutter. Becca glances up. “What?” I grab her hand and pull her up with me.
“Sorry, everyone,” I call over my shoulder. “Early morning.” The sun still hangs over the stadium.
Nobody buys it, and I don’t care. Becca laughs as I drag her toward the exit.
The walk through the parking lot takes longer than it should. The air is warm and still smells faintly of popcorn and cut grass. Becca keeps laughing at my eagerness. I open her car door and lift her by her waist, relishing the feel of her in my hands again. I buckle her seatbelt and kiss her cheek.
“Precious cargo.” I have always said that to her while getting her in my truck, and I mean it more now than everbefore. I climb in the other side, and her hand slips into mine. Her fingers squeeze once.
“Your fault,” she says.
“My fault?” I question.
“You started it.” She smirks.
“Pretty sure it was your fingers on my thighs, babe.”
She lifts a brow.
“You kissed me as if I haveNever Been Kissedbefore in front of the entire stadium.”
Fair point.
The scent of her shampoo drifts down in the warm evening air. My pulse hasn’t settled since the kiss. Since the way she looked at me afterward, like I hung the moon.
The stadium lights glow in the distance. People stream through the lot behind us. Becca turns in her seat, unbuckling her seatbelt.
“You really did that,” she says softly.
“Did what?”
“Recreated my favorite scene in my guilty pleasure movie.”
I shrug. “I cost you enough dreams, Becca. It was time I made one come true.”
