Page 76 of So That Happened

Great. I’m being awkward in my own office. At my own company.

“Am I interrupting?” I ask.

Vanessa shakes her head. “We were just talking about getting beer league softball t-shirts made. We won’t have them ready for Saturday’s tournament, but we’ll have them for our next tournament, I’m sure.”

My gaze automatically pivots to Annie. “What kind of t-shirts are you thinking?”

She reddens.

Hmm. Maybe I’m not the only one who’s been thinking of t-shirts lately…

I hope I’m not.

Whoa. Easy there, Liam.

She pauses, then blinks innocently. “I think they could be inspired by the people we work for.”

I raise my brows. “How so?”

“You know… oversized, soft… total lifesavers when you have nothing else to wear.”

Annie’s still blushing, but her eyes have this curious gleam to them. Playful, mischievous. I pause, suddenly sure that we’re not talking about team t-shirts anymore, but one, very particular t-shirt.

I have no choice but to bite, no choice but to pursue whatever this conversation is about. “Will Stay Inside the Lines be providing these t-shirts for the team?”

Annie smiles impishly. “Oh, I should think so.”

Here it is, my chance to find out if she kept my t-shirt after the hotel. I’m not thinking straight at the moment, but for once, I can’t bring myself to care.

“And will I be getting said t-shirts back at the end of the season?” I ask.

Annie’s blush is now practically purple, but she squares her shoulders, continues to hold my gaze. “I don’t think so.”

She did keep it.

All I can picture is the woman wearing my damn t-shirt and very little more.

And she’s looking at me like she knows it.

Did someone turn the temperature up in here?

Annie’s hazel eyes are dancing with mischief and sparkle and so much goodness that I never want to look away.

“I’d say one could consider that stealing,” I say quietly, trying to adopt a “stern boss” look.

“What if the team want to keep them as keepsakes?”

“Then the shirts should read ‘I played for the Donovan Brothers’ softball team and all I got was this lousy t-shirt.’”

Annie snorts with surprised laughter. “Mr. Donovan, was that a joke?”

I love the way she says “Mr. Donovan” like that. Like it’s our secret that she knows what I look like eating leftovers in my sweatpants. Knows how my breathing sounds when I sleep.

Knows too much for comfort, really.

“About keeping the t-shirts being theft?” I shoot back. “Absolutely not.”

Annie smiles. It’s a big, wide smile that makes me want to smile back. Makes me want to move closer and—

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