Page 39 of Houston, We Have a Problem
“Hi,” he says, that one word feeling like it carries a hundred others with it.
Whoosh.
“Hi yourself.”
“What did you think of the game?”
“It was pretty fun, I guess.”
“You guess? That’s all you can say after you just spent the last hour checking me out?”
Whoosh.
This hot air balloon of mine is going to hit the stratosphere if I’m not careful. I nudge my shoulder into his, hoping that distracts from my blush. “I did not! I spent most of it talking to some new friends.”
“I noticed. Jack and Molly looked ready to adopt you.” Was he watching me as much as I watched him?
Whoosh.
Silence builds between us, heated and tangible as we gaze at each other, like we’re both waiting for the other one to pop the bubble of this moment. As much as I wish we could stay here in a place that feels more like home than anything has in Sun City so far, I can’t. I can’t tell Houston that I have loved baseball since I was a kid. For some reason, I made him believe I didn’t know anything about sports because I wanted to separate Darcy from Tamlin as much as I could, and now I can’t be completely honest with him without ruining everything.
I don’t want to hurt him, but at this point I think it might be inevitable no matter what I do.
Houston breaks the silence first, though it’s clear he doesn’t want to. I think he’d be totally down to sit on the bleachers in the sunshine and gaze at me in a way that makes me think my hair might catch on fire.
“So… I could use a ride.”
If he’s going to bring it up, I don’t feel bad asking. “Yeah, uh, did you just give away your truck?”
He laughs, throat bobbing as he throws his head back. I want to bottle up the sound so I can pull it out when I’m feeling down. “Wow, you must have a really high opinion of me if that’s your first conclusion.”
“So, you didn’t—”
“John needed to borrow it. His pickup broke down, and he was going to lose his job if he didn’t have something to use while it’s getting fixed.”
What kind of relationship does Houston have with these people if they feel comfortable asking for such a big favor?
As if he can see the question in my eyes, Houston shakes his head. “He told me Jay was probably going to have to miss next week’s game because he wasn’t going to have a way to get him here. But I know John’s foreman is incredibly strict and wouldn’t let him take an unplanned week off.”
“That’s…” I don’t even know what to say, so I just say, “Wow.”
Though he does seem a bit uncomfortable about this conversation, his smile still melts me in my seat. It’s not like today is incredibly warm, so that’s all him. “Anyway,” he says, “the team’s going to Big Henry’s for lunch, and I promised the kids I would go. I can grab an Uber if you’re not up for—”
I grab his hand, realizing too late that I already know my hand likes his a little too much. I meant it as a friendly gesture of excitement, but Houston stops breathing. So do I.Rein it in, Paxton. “I think that sounds fun,” I say, miraculously without sounding breathless. “Will Molly and Jack be there?”
Houston swallows. His eyes are fixed on his hand, which is so completely still that it feels like he’s doing everything he can not to repeat his move from the living room. I’m not sure why he’s unknowingly agreeing to my friends-only rule I made formyself, but I am not going to question it when it’s better for both of us.
“Probably,” he croaks before jumping to his feet with a cough, breaking our connection. “I want to try to get there before everyone orders, so if you want to take pity on me…”
It’s such a bad idea, but I still say yes because I’m not ready to let go of this side of Houston Briggs. Not by a longshot.
Chapter Sixteen
Houston
Big Henry’s is busy ona regular day, but on game days? The place becomes a madhouse. The burger joint is a Sun City institution, even though the menu only holds six items and hasn’t changed in forty years. The Scorpions fill every booth and table in the place, not just with sweaty kids and their parents but with all the noise and nonsense that comes with them. I know Henry doesn’t mind—Little Henry, since his dad, Big Henry, died a couple of years ago—but he still puts up a stink whenever we show up.
The fact that he asked for a game calendar a few months ago and always asks about the final score has me pretty convinced that he secretly likes it when we show up.
