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“One date, Sinclair,” I pressed on. “Just one.”
Her blue eyes regarded me carefully before saying, “I have conditions.”
“Yes to all of them,” I automatically replied.
“I’m serious, Orion.”
“So the fuck am I,” I assured her.
“Nowhere crowded or full of your fanbase,” she said, voicing her first condition.
“Not a problem,” I semi-lied. “I can find a place that’s quiet and private.” Luckily for me, I had the money to buy out a restaurant for the night.
“I’ll meet you at the-”
“No can do on that one,” I said, cutting her off. “I will pick you up like a gentleman.”
The wench rolled her eyes. “You really are a headache to deal with.”
“Take some aspirin,” I drawled out.
“It’s only a date,” she went on. “No labeling anything as anything more than a casual date.”
I had to bite my tongue before saying, “That’s not going to work if you don’t want to be judged as a gold-digger or athlete chaser.”
Her hand came up to pinch the bridge of her nose. “This is such a bad idea,” she muttered.
“Hey,” I rushed out, refusing to lose ground. “Look at me.”
Her blue eyes met mine. “What?”
“I’m not looking to hook up with you, Sinclair,” I clarified for her. “I’m looking todateyou. In doing that, I can’t have people thinking that you’re less than what you are. If the media asks, then I’m going to tell them that you’re my girlfriend.”
“But I’m not,” she argued.
“Why not?”
Her head reared back in surprise at that. “What?”
“Why can’t I tell people that you’re my girlfriend?”
“Orion, we might want to kill each other by the end of our first date,” she pointed out. “Calling me your girlfriend is a bit premature, don’t you think?”
Because I knew what I wanted from this woman, I shook my head. “No.”
“I’m barely wrapping my head around the fact that I’m willing to go on a date with a guy that plays professional sports for a living,” she reminded me. “I’m hardly ready for you to start telling people that I’m your damn girlfriend, Orion.”
“Anything less will put you in a bad light, and I refuse to do that,” I informed her.
“Then how about you quit asking me out?”
“That’s not happening, baby.”
“Orion, we don’t have time to argue about this,” she said. “We still have to get through your shoulder routine.”
“I’m calling you my girlfriend,” I stated, taking us centuries back in time.
“That whole conking a girl on the head, then dragging her back to your cave isn’t a thing anymore,” she replied evenly. “You can’t just claim me.”
