Page 90 of Mom Ball

“What about Timothy?” The shakiness is back in her voice.

I reach for her hand. “I do have six bedrooms.”

Her mouth kicks up in the corner, and she blushes.

“I’m not suggesting we marry right away, but I wouldn’t turn you down if you proposed.”

She laughs. “Be careful what you wish for, Nate.”

“If I could ever be so lucky.” I slink my arm behind her and curl my fingers at her waist.

She leans into me and sighs. We sit in silence, staring at the pasture. It’s peaceful and nostalgic, and for a split second I forget nine years have passed since we were last here.

“I don’t want you to quit playing because of me.” She turns to face me.

“It would be my choice.”

“Yeah, but you’d be doing it for me.”

I shrug. “I mean, you’d be a big factor.”

She groans.

“What’s wrong with that?”

“I didn’t want to interfere with your career before, and I don’t want to now.”

I stand in front of her, bracing my hands on the tailgate so that she’s stuck between me. Her only chance of escape would be to scoot backward, and there’s a cooler and lawn chairs blocking her way.

“I’ve worked my butt off to get to where I am. You of all people should know I wouldn’t quit without a good reason.”

“I don’t want to be the reason.” She swallows hard. I watch the muscles in her jaw and zero in on her lips.

“You’ve always been my reason.” I dip my head closer to her and whisper, “For everything.”

I kiss her slowly. If she doesn’t believe my words, maybe she’ll believe my kiss.

CHAPTER 19

Brooke

Last night still doesn’t seem real.

I had the best kiss of my life with the only person I’ve ever loved. Then we spent two hours talking and cuddling under the stars. It was everything I’ve dreamed of and more.

And now I’m in Sunday morning service, finding it hard to concentrate. One Sunday I’m daydreaming what it would be like to kiss Nate, and this Sunday I’m replaying what it was like in my head.

I could really use a trip to the altar.

Speak of the devil—or angel, in this case—Nate slides into our pew.

“Hey, Nate.” Timothy grins and slides down, leaving a Nate-sized space between him and me.

“Hey, bud.” They fist bump and Nate sits beside me.

He greets my parents and settles closer to me. My limbs tingle as his big arm brushes against me. I smile to myself and glance his way before staring back at the pulpit.

In the few seconds it takes me to turn my gaze, half-a-dozen people make eyes at us. A few even cover their mouths and lean toward their neighbor. It’ll be a miracle if we make it out of here without my name mentioned in a prayer request.

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