“It’s just… I think I’ve known you so long, it’s weird.” I sip my water, thinking about how turned on I was by that ad. God help me if he did a commercial with it too.
“So, you didn’t find me sexy in it?” Those deep-brown eyes stare into mine.
I wish I could be one of those women who can play hard to get. Who can play it coy. “I didn’t say that.” It’s the most truth I can handle at the moment.
A small smile forms on his lips, and he unscrews his water cap. “I’ll take it.”
“Okay.” I clear my throat, digging into my bag to take out the pad of paper and the roster. I work better visually and need to see it written down, not just on my laptop.
“Let’s go to the couch.” He grabs my water and walks into the living room before I can answer.
“Or we can just stay here.”
“My legs are tired. I promise we’ll stay on separate ends of the couch.” He smirks.
I love Flirtatious Decker, but doesn’t he know I’m hanging on by the thinnest thread right now?
Sure, Penelope, walk right into the fire. Why the hell not?
Chapter
Thirty-Two
Penelope
* * *
I join Decker on the couch. We really have no choice but to be close to one another so we can work off the same paper. His thigh is pressed to mine, his head leaned in close to mine, and the scent of his cologne surrounds me. It’s the sweetest form of torture to be so near to him yet have to maintain some kind of distance emotionally.
Working through the VIP seating with Decker goes how most things do with him, which is to say efficiently.
“Keep Drew away from Easton.” He takes the pen out of my hand, leans over, and scratches off Drew’s name before putting him on the opposite side of the room from Decker and Easton. “Believe me, as far as we can make it.”
“They’re teammates.” I pick up the pen after he drops it, and I scribble some other names. “I figured we’ll put a couple players with a few season ticket holders and sponsors at each table.”
“Not all teammates get along. Look at Foster and me.” He leans back and finishes his water bottle.
I forgot how small I always feel sitting next to him. It’s not like I’m petite, but he’s six-three, and his body is big and muscular.
“I meant to ask you, Foster hitting that batter after you got hit…”
He shrugs his shoulder and arm as if remembering the hit. I want to ask him how bad it is. Is the bruise already black and blue? Does he want me to look at it or ice it for him? But just having him next to me is bad enough. A shirtless Decker might make me lose all my willpower.
“Yeah, that wouldn’t have happened last year.” There’s an amused expression on his face, and I love seeing it attached to Foster’s name.
I didn’t ruin them. They won’t go a lifetime without talking because of me. That knowledge loosens something in my chest.
I move to sit in the corner of the couch, bringing a pillow into my lap since I’m wearing a skirt. “You two seem good again.”
He scrunches his empty water bottle and tosses it on the end table next to him. “We are.”
There’s something in his tone, but I don’t address it since it feels like we may be crossing into territory we shouldn’t. “That’s great, Decker.”
“Yeah.” He stretches his legs out on the coffee table. I’d do about anything to straddle him right now. Just picturing it makes my nipples tighten. “It is great. I just… I forgot what it felt like. Before everything went down.” He rubs his hands together. “We started going to therapy together. It’s been… I don’t know. I didn’t think I was the kind of person who needed to sit in a room and talk about things.”
“And now?”
“Now I think had we not gone, we’d never be here.” He peeks over at me. “There’s a lot we still haven’t hashed out though.”
