Page 62 of Catching Feelings

“You’re ditching me?” Nash growls, taking Kendall’s hand.

“No worries, Potato. We’ll stock up on all the O’s this week so you don’t have to beat one down—” He clamps his hand over her mouth and drags her away.

“You’re not leaving us hanging tonight, are you Rowan?” Declan asks. “You can be my wingman.”

“Dude.” Brock shakes his head. “Ignore the pubescent prick. You can be my date tonight.”

“I don’t think so,” Miles cuts in and blocks me with his body. “It’s my duty to keep guys like you away from the best friend of my best friends’ wives.”

“I thought I was your best friend.” Brock folds his thick arms across his arms and pouts.

“You’re a close second. Or rather, third.”

“How did Bankes and Hump get to the top of the list?”

“Potato has Pickles, and she’s the bomb.”

“Truth.” Trenton and Declan nod in agreement.

“And Bankes has little Emmitt. No doubt they wanted to name him Miles, but Bankes didn’t want you boys to get jealous. Either way, it puts him up there. Plus, they both have kick-ass wives.”

“Darius has a kick-ass wife and kids too,” I chime in.

“No doubt.” Miles raises a brow at me. “They’re my favorite because they’re your favorite,” he whispers in my ear so only I can hear.

Tingles climb up my spine and I lean into him when he wraps his arm around my hips and tugs me into his side.

The guys argue about cars and drivers and head out toward the player lot, leaving Miles and me behind.

“Would you like to go to Rivals or somewhere else?” he asks.

“Aren’t you going with them?”

“I’m going wherever you’re going.”

“What if I want to go home?”

“Is that an invite?”

I curl my bottom lip between my teeth and think about it. Do I like Miles? Yes. Do I want to spend time with him? Yes. Do I want him to come back to my apartment? Yes and no. Only no because it’s so small, but I don’t dare invite myself to his place.

“I imagine you’re hungry, and I don’t have much food in my fridge.”

He pushes a strand of hair behind my ear and cups my cheek. “I have food in my fridge. Or we can go out. Or order takeout. I’m easy.” His lip quirks. “Mind out of the gutter. Not that kind of easy.”

“Really?” I joke and regret it instantly. I had implied that was why I wasn’t interested in dating him. “Sorry. I didn’t mean...”

“Don’t be sorry. I haven’t exactly painted myself as a boy scout, but I’m not aseasyas you think. Mostly all talk.”

I raise my brow in doubt.

“Okay. I wasn’t always all talk, but the past year I’ve been better.”

“Why?”

“This is a conversation best had over dinner. Come back to my place? For dinner,” he quickly adds. “Stay as long or as little as you’d like. I’ll cook for you. For us.”

“You mean foryoubecause I’ve seen the way you eat after a game.”

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