Page 74 of Elevator Pitch

“I didn’t take you for a flowers man,” I state, accepting the bouquet and bringing the vibrant blooms to my nose. The array of spring flowers was not a cheap collection from a local grocery store.

Ross shrugs. “There are lots of things about me that might surprise you.” His eyes don’t leave mine and a shiver runs down my spine.

“Let me put these in water and get some glasses for that wine.”

Ross glances down at the bottle in his other hand as if he’s forgotten he brought something else with him. He nods, but then he follows me to my kitchen where his presence fills the small space.

While I fill a pitcher with water for the flowers and arrange them inside the container, Ross makes himself at home, opening a couple drawers until he finds a bottle opener, and does the honors to open the wine bottle and pour us each a glass.

Our motions feel rather domestic, like a couple comfortable with one another after years of living together.

Instantly, I scold myself for the thought, not wanting to get ahead of myself again with this man.

With my head, I motion for him to follow me back to the front room, but he helps himself to the seat Cassandra vacated in the kitchen.

“What can I do for you, Ross Davis?”

Ross digs his teeth into his lower lip and scans me from top to toe. “You can’t lead with that kind of question, Vee.”

“Then you lead. What do you want?” The question is harsher than it should be, but I can’t find much grace for Ross. I’m sorry his team lost and I’m sorry his team members don’t get along, but none of that is my concern. He’s the manager.

“I should have called.” He sighs, staring down at the wine glass on the table where his thick hands cup the stemless glass. “But I didn’t and that’s on me.”

I don’t respond.

“The thing is, Vee, I miss you in my bed.” My mouth falls open and his expression turns stricken. “That didn’t come out right.”

“It certainly didn’t, especially as I’ve never been in your bed. You’ve always been in mine.” Like I’m some little secret. His superstition keeper.

Ross clears his throat. “Sweetheart, I didn’t want to bring you to my hotel room. It wasn’t . . . personal. Comfortable.”

I tilt my head. “But that’s how we met.”

Ross wearily smiles again. “I know. And that night changed everything.” He glances up at me. “But a hotel room wouldn’t cut it again. The rooms can be so cold and nondescript. At least, at your place, at the rental, the sheets had your scent on them. They were softer, or maybe that was just my bedfellow.” His smile grows stronger. “Plus, we weren’t having some torrid affair. I wasn’t keeping you a secret. I was just keeping you to myself.”

He sighs and glances back at his wine glass. “You’re the first woman who hasn’t wanted something from me. Didn’t have an agenda by being with me. And I just found more peace and contentment in your bed.”

I’m fortunate I’m sitting because otherwise I might melt on the floor.

Then, Ross adds, “I meant what I said, Vee. I miss you. I miss talking to you and hanging out with you.”

My shoulders lower, the tension tightening my back lessens a little more. Because I miss him, too.

Still. “So, you want back in my bed?”

He sheepishly glances away. “It’s a little more complicated than that, isn’t it?”

“Is it?” I arch a brow. “Because I won’t have sex with you for superstitious reasons.”

Ross’s head lifts, his eyes wide. “Okay.”

“Okay?” I huff. “That’s it.”

He sits taller, straightening his elbows while not removing his hands from the stemless wineglass. “I know the superstition seems silly. And Kip has his theories.”

“What are his theories?”

“That my head needs to be focused on the field. That my heart should be on that diamond.”