Page 146 of On His Team

I reach across and steal one of his fries. “Yes.”

He smiles. “Okay.”

“Don’t ruin it.”

He laughs.

I pull my feet out from underneath his thigh and turn sideways on the couch so I can look at him properly.

“Ask me something.”

“What?”

“You asked about my criminal history. Ask me something else.”

He thinks. “What do you want to do after college?”

I roll my eyes. “That is so boring.”

“You said ask something.”

“Ask something fun.”

“What’s fun?”

“Sex. Murder. Secrets. Dreams. Embarrassing things.”

He looks at me. “That explains a lot.”

“Rowan.”

He smiles. “Biggest dream.”

I consider it.

The answer used to be vague. Something in sports. Something interesting. Something that made enough money and didn’t make me hate Mondays. Now I have a clearer picture.

“I want to run things.”

“What things?”

“I don’t know yet.” I tuck one leg underneath me. “Events, maybe. Or a youth hockey program. Something where there are actual people on the other end of what I’m doing. I don’t want to spend forty years approving purchase orders in an office and then retire with excellent spreadsheets and no stories.”

“You like spreadsheets.”

“I fucking suck at spreadsheets,” I laugh. “I like building something and then watching it happen.”

Rowan nods. “You’d be good at that.”

The certainty in his voice catches me. “You think?”

“Yeah.”

I stare at him.

He reaches for another fry. I smack his hand automatically, but the warmth has already spread into my chest.

“Okay,” I say. “Your turn.”