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“You just told us you can’t read,” Harley says, flabbergasted.
I inhale slowly, about to tell them that I can’t bring myself to read it and the handwriting is very fancy, when Royal says, “I’m going to go get the journal from the safe.”
Harley stews with indignation. It comes off her in waves, making the silence between us uncomfortable. We both pick up our phones.
“Wait. That’s mine,” she says.
“Mine now.”
She launches from her chair, reaching for it. I’m quite a bit taller and hold it away from her as she throws herself against me, trying to reach for it. I’m not complaining as her soft, warm body knocks into mine.
“Ryan, you’re making a scene.”
There’s hardly anyone left in the restaurant.
“You’re the one dancing around there like a show bear.”
She goes still. “A show bear?”
“I’m just going to give you my phone number since we’re dating,” I whisper.
“Fake dating,” she whisper shouts back.
“Mmhmm.” To my surprise, her password is the same as her locker combo. I only left a rotten fish in there once. Other times, I left doughnuts, Halloween candy, and once, a flower. But she doesn’t know that it was from me.
I snap a selfie and send it to my phone number so now we have a text thread started. I label itMr. Right.“Calm down, Nugget. I’m entering my digits so you can call me.”
She launches herself at me like a flying squirrel. My finger slides across the screen, opening the photo app. I can handle five hundred pounds of muscle coming at me in a tackle. Harley is a lightweight. A feather compared to a wall of bricks. But one I want to hold on to, to feel her valleys and hills, to melt together.
My pulse throws the ball out of sight. Didn’t see that coming.
Multiple photos of an adorable baby bring me to my senses. “Who’s this guy? Cute baby. Harper’s or Heather’s? How many kids do they have now? You’re the last of the Owens women standing. Just never found Mr. Right, huh?” I waggle my eyebrows.
She drops to her feet and pouts. “Lots of Mr. Wrongs.”
“I know the perfect guy for you.”
“But the rules. This is a two-player game.”
My lips barely resist a mega huge smile. “I meant me.”
Royal appears and slaps the journal into my hand. “Read it. We want a full report.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”
“Make sure he reads it,” Royal says to Harley.
“When has he ever listened to me?”
“Oh, he listens to you.”
She goes back to the table and slips her phone into her purse. “I’ll meet you outside.”
“Be there in a second.”
Royal gives me aSee, told ya so lookthen leans in and whispers, “You and Harley, really? You once told me that if I ever found the two of you together, to spray you down with a firehouse. Plus, you’re benched until the stuff with your team blows over. You need to focus.”
“So now everyone is keeping track of my career?” I ask.
