Page 88 of Dream Girl Drama

You can’t have her anymore.

You shouldn’t have taken her to begin with.

Chloe looked up at him, slumped a little. “You didn’t even get credit for your home run, did you?”

If you hit this ball, you get to marry Chloe.

If only.

“No, it counts,” he said, throat hurting. “I’ll make sure it counts.”

After a moment, she nodded. “How am I going to get him home like this?”

“In the back of my truck?” he suggested.

Their gazes collided. Heated. Tried to break free, but came right back. Fired up even more. Driving Chloe home was a Very Bad Idea. They both knew it.

“I’ll just get him inside, then go,” he said, adding, “It’s been almost two weeks since those pictures were taken. I doubt they’ve been staking you out this long.”

Chloe swallowed. “Okay.”

His heart nearly leapt out of his chest at the news that he’d be spending time with her, no matter how short. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I can’t think of any other way to get him home without getting mud on everything and everyone he passes.” She wet her lips. “Can you?”

“No,” he said, way too quickly. “Let’s go.”Before you change your mind.

They walked out of the trees and back onto the field, stopping in their tracks when they saw the brawl taking place in the baseball diamond. Everyone was embroiled in the knock-down, drag-out fistfight, except for Burgess who was patiently peelingmen off one another and tossing them down on the ground like yesterday’s trash.

And Corrigan, who was marching away from the fray with a struggling Skylar over his shoulder. “Let me save you!” he growled at her, while she pounded on his back.

“Let’s just pretend we never saw this,” Chloe whispered.

Sig was already ushering her toward the parking lot. “Good idea.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chloe was laughing so hard, she tripped over her own feet into the apartment and nearly went sprawling face down onto the hardwood floor. Somehow, she managed to balance herself without touching any of the furniture with her dirty hands, turning just in time to watch Sig saunter into the apartment with a sludge-caked bulldog cradled to his chest.

A twinkle lit his eyes, but he didn’t smile.

He probably couldn’t, because there was dried mud hardening on his face, due to the struggle he’d undergone putting Pierre into the bed of his truck. It was a miracle Chloe hadn’t peed her pants on the way home, because though they’d secured Pierre to the truck with his leash and driven five miles per hour down busy Boston streets while horns wailed, Pierre still managed to lose his balance, plop, and roll several times, making Chloe cry out in concern and laugh her head off in equal measure.

“Come on, let’s put him in the bathtub,” she wheezed, staggering down the hallway of the apartment and falling to her knees in front of the tub, turning the tap to warm. “I’m not thinking about the mess this is going to leave behind. That’s a later problem.”

“I’ll help you.” Sig unhooked the removable showerhead and started rinsing mud and sludge from the bulldog right away. “Let’s just get this behemoth clean.”

The word “behemoth” spoken through gritted teeth causedChloe to shake with mirth. “If you think about it, he saved us from that brawl,” she said over the sound of pelting water. “I think he knew exactly what he was doing. Didn’t you, thoughtful boy?”

Pierre glared at her, one tooth poking up from his bottom lip.

“Hate to break it to you, but this dog doesn’t have a single thought in his head, Chlo.” He hunkered down beside her on the tile floor so he could spray Pierre’s undercoat. “He eats and shits and causes trouble.”

Chloe bumped him in the shoulder with her own. “Is this the kind of daddy you’d be? The kind who complains about having to hose dirt and Cheerios off a toddler?”

“Nah.” He seemed to get distracted by her face, his attention falling to her mouth. “If we made a baby, I’d live for every second.”

Her heart dropped to her knees. “You’ve been talking about making babies a lot lately.”

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