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“What?” He lifted his head from my chest, his brows furrowed with concern. “Of course. Are… Shit, Meredith.” He lifted to his knees, combing his hands through his hair and grabbing the waves in his whitened knuckles. “I’m so sorry.”
“There’s nothing to apologize for. Clearly,” I blushed, “I felt the same way there. It’s bound to happen when we’re—”
“Perfect for each other in every way.” Rowan stood from the couch, lifting me up with him. His words struck me in the heart, and even his soft kiss to my hair couldn’t stir me. “I guess I’ll see you with everyone else at the game.”
“Yeah.” I blinked, still trying to breathe, when I noticed he was getting ready to leave. “Hey, Rowan?” I needed to save part of this, whatever we were.
“Hmm?” He turned from the door, his adorable boyish smile flashing across his face, making me feel at ease.
“We’re going to crush the competition.”
It felt like I was standing in a pool of sunshine when he laughed, making everything feel better. “You bet we will, babe.”
SEVENTEEN
“Rowan Ellis, first baseman for the Portland Emeralds has done it again, leading his team to the World Series with a near-unstoppable home run record. The question this season is, does the team’s blue-eyed all-star have what it takes to bring it home for Rose City?” the reporter grilled the camera while he stood near the first base line during warmup. It was blasting from the mega screen for everyone in the stands to wonder alongside him.
“What the hell do his eyes have to do with it?” I groaned, one part annoyed, the other parts overwhelmed with a restless angst I was struggling to contain.
“I guess that depends where his eyes are looking,” Ethan responded, nudging my shoulder while pointing at first base. Rowan looked beyond the reporter, fixing on me.
“He’s hopeless,” Ethan snickered. “You better go down there and give him a kiss for good luck so he doesn’t blow this game.”
“I’m right here. That’s good luck enough.”
“Row,” Ethan bellowed between his cupped hands, getting Rowan’s attention on the field. “Mer’s coming down!”
Smacking him in the chest, I glared at Ethan. It was the last day together and a huge deal to me, making it harder than I planned to put on the show. But Rowan grinning at me as he rushed toward the railing softened everything for just a moment.
“Hey, you,” he greeted me, holding his hands against the railing. I waved, words leaving when he was up close in his uniform. “Come down here,” he demanded with a wink, opening the gate.
“There she is!” The reporter had followed, his cameraman getting the shot of both of us up on the screen as Rowan took my hand and helped me down three steps before pulling me off and spinning me in his arms.
“Big day today,” he whispered in my ear.
“You’re going to be fine,” I told him, pulling back and absorbing every detail I could.
“Miss West,” the reporter tapped my arm, “you’ve been at almost every game, the perfect lucky charm. I think it’s safe to say you’ve carried this team on your shoulders!”
“I’ve had nothing to do with it. The players are incredible and what Ellis does out here reflects their determination to win.” Rowan kissed my hair once I responded, squeezing my hips as he held me from behind.
“She’s being modest,” he teased, moving to hold me at his side. “Meredith’s my moon shot. She’s the love of my life,” he told the reporter, smiling down at me. That was my cue, his perfect grin being the reminder I needed to get on my tiptoes and press my mouth against his soft lips. “I’m lucky,” his gaze burned into mine, “to have fallen for my friend.”
Rowan used his free hand to put some hair behind my ear, letting his touch linger against my jaw. Is he flirting with me? Is it the fake or real Rowan? I couldn’t tell anymore, but I also wasn’t sure I could handle knowing. For a fleeting second, his touch was real, and that was enough.
When security ushered me back to our seats, Aubrey was holding an enormous margarita out for me. She hadn’t stopped apologizing for days and I was fine taking her apology drinks.
“What’s a moon shot?” Heather asked, poking a straw into her soda. Ethan looked at me, waiting to see who might answer first.
“It’s a baseball term,” Ethan explained. “It’s a long and high home run. Not just anybody can get one.”
I stared at the field, thinking about the other night when I cut myself off from the intoxicant that became Rowan Ellis. Heather asked more, cuddling up to Ezra as she batted her eyelashes.
“They’ve got to win the next two games,” Ezra explained to Heather when I started sipping from my drink, “or they lose the series.”
“Then what?”
Oh, she is adorable. “Then it’s back to not winning anything until spring,” I told her.
