Page 15 of Triple Play

I shouldn’t demand more, but I need to show Felix who I’m with. So I dart my tongue against Blake’s and get the satisfaction of his groan.

Blake pulls back just far enough to scan the area around us. “People are taking pictures.”

Sure enough, a few people have their phones up. “So let ’em.”

“You’re such a firecracker.” But he kisses me again, deeper, but not quite deep enough.

Eventually we pull back from each other, just far enough that Blake tips his forehead to mine. “Hi,” he breathes.

“Hi,” I say back.

When it’s just the two of us, I can almost pretend that I’m the girl I told him I was—a community college student who took a few years off after high school. A nice girl. A good girl. “Did you have to bribe someone to get my suitcase?”

For a second, he frowns like I was being serious. Then he laughs. “Bribe someone? No. But I might have pulled the do you know who I am? card. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Somehow, I don’t.”

He smiles and kisses me again, right at the tip of my nose. I’m not sensitive about my nose—I like my nose—but it was always a part of me guys would avoid. Not Blake. Something inside me melts a little. He’s who he is, and somehow, he likes me. No matter how many times I’ve thought it, each one feels like an achievement.

Or like I’m tricking him.

I hazard a glance over at Felix, who’s staring at us from under the awning of his hat. No, glaring would be a better word for it, a gaze that makes the back of my neck heat.

Blake must feel it too. He pulls me to him, against the firm plains of his chest, then whispers in my ear, “Sorry about Paquette.”

My smile slips. There goes my heartbeat again, hard enough that for a second I worry that Blake will feel my panic. “What about him?”

“Just, I feel bad for the guy, taking his spot like this.”

Breathe. Fucking breathe. He can’t possibly mean… “Right, first base. You both play the same position.”

Blake chuckles fondly. “Usually teams only have one starting first baseman.”

I know that. The last time I was home, my parents had a picture of seven-year-old me in their hallway dressed as a Boston “Monster” for Halloween, my face painted green. I know how many first basemen teams normally have: one fewer than I’m getting in the car with. One fewer than you’ve kissed in the past year. I can’t say any of that—I don’t want to talk about my parents to Blake, whose family is so perfect they look like the photo that comes with a picture frame, and I can’t talk about it with Felix.

“Oh, right, of course.” As if I just forgot.

“I’m sorry about all this,” Blake says. “But hey, there’s still the beach waiting for us.”

I tap my suitcase. “I did get a new bikini.” One that cost about ten times what I wore to dance but is made from the same damn fabric.

“Well, good thing plan A worked and I got your stuff back.”

“Plan A?” I ask. “What was plan B?”

“Plan B was I take you shopping. I bet you could do some real damage to a man’s credit card.”

That makes me stop short. The last thing I want is Blake thinking I’m after his money. The small fact of being actually broke makes that a lot more difficult. He doesn’t mean anything by that. Blake is being how he is—thoughtful. Uncomplicated.

I hide my momentary panic behind my smile. “That’s not—I mean, I don’t—” But there’s no way to say I don’t want his money without seeming like I do. Fortunately, my phone buzzes. A weather alert.

Blake must get the same one, because he studies the screen for a second. “My first nor’easter. Exciting.” He actually sounds excited. His smile fades when Felix starts waving his phone at us, a C’mon written clearly on his face.

Blake squares his shoulders—then winces and covers his grimace with a grin. “Just so you know, there’s only one person I’d want to get stuck in a massive snowstorm with.”

“You mean Felix?” I tease, then immediately regret it when Blake’s forehead wrinkles in confusion. Fuck. I need to keep my damn mouth shut. “Well, we’re stuck with him anyway.”

“Sure are.” Blake turns and waves. “C’mon, Paquette, we need to get driving.” And so we roll our suitcases out of the airport just as the first flakes of the storm sift down.

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