Page 232 of Out of Bounds

The football player didn’t shift beyond giving me a long look.

"Why can’t they go over to you?"

"Maybe they think you’re a tree?” I suggested. “You could be comforting to them?"

Unamused, he frowned at me.

"These are two rhinoceros hornbills," Mallory explained, while the crew snapped pictures of us. "They’re males who usually reside in the canopies of rainforests. They’re territorial birds—especially with their mates—very active, and these two in particular love playing catch."

My mouth fell open. "No way, Ryan.”

“Hm?”

“You’re one of them. They can sense it.”

All I got was an eye roll, but his lips twitched all the same. He could pretend to be irritated all he wanted. That didn’t change the fact that once he actually took his time and slowed down, he was great with them.

“So…if their new names won’t work…?” Mallory trailed off.

“What’re you thinking, team captain?” I whispered.

“Don’t ask me. I’m not the art one.”

I grinned. “We could do something terrible and call them Ball Dribbler and Art Girl but that’d be super weird if we break up.”

“If?”

Ryan’s single-word question made me pause and I thought back over my words. If. It’d slipped out without me meaning it and I gazed up at him, blinking slowly. I said if. Me. I said that.

If we break up.

Not when, not putting it down as a definite point that loomed in the distance, but if. A softer word. One that looped across the ground, an arrow, pointing right towards the next destination. One with Ryan Cross.

“If.” I nodded, bumping my shoulder with his. And I smiled up at him. Not a grin, not a smirk, nothing to take away from the moment. “If.”

Ryan gazed down at me and his eyes trailed over my face.

God, he could be so intense. My eyes flickered away from his and I watched the birds for a moment, still feeling the smoldering dark honey on me. His hand went to mine and his thumb stroked the back of my hand. A flush crept up my neck.

“So, why’d you do this?” I whispered out of the side of my mouth while Mallory and the photographers talked. “Want another anatomy menu?”

“Why’d I do it?”

“Mm-hmm.”

He hesitated. “Some gifts don’t have a motive, art girl.”

I was just trying to joke around but I glanced at him again, my pulse thrumming under my skin. He was just trying to be gentle with me. His way of gentle.

“I’m practically offering up another menu on a silver platter.” I teased him, my voice soft.

Slowly, he shifted forward. “I did it because I love you.”

Oh.

All the jokes, gone. All the teasing, gone. A shock spread over my body and my lips parted, staring up at him.

He loves me.

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