Page 71 of Stepping Up to the Plate

“One hundred percent,” I reply with no hesitation. “I only want you. Period. In fact, send me that picture, I’ll post it right now.”

“You don’t have to do that,” she whispers.

“I don’t have to, but I want to. It never crossed my mind that I needed to stake my claim publicly but the more I think about it the more I’m into the idea. Besides, I told Emerly I’d post about yoga. Unless you don’t want me to. This could bring you some unwanted attention.”

I haven’t considered that once Lola and I arepublicthings might change. We haven’t hidden our relationship, but we haven’t flaunted it, either. I’ll have to ask Robby if there is anything I need to be aware of. I haven’t heard anything negative from Carina.

“I am fine with you posting me. I wanted to make sure you were sure about this. I know you’re used to dating a different type of woman and don’t want to disappoint you or your fans.”

WTF. A different type of woman? Disappoint my fans? Pulling into our next stop, I park the car and turn to face her.

“Look at me, Lola,” I demand. When she does I slide my hand to cradle the side of her face and lower my head so our eyes meet. “First of all, if they’re stupid enough not to love you, I don’t need them. Second of all, I don’t know what you mean by ‘different type of woman’ but you are the exact type of woman I should be with. You are sweet, smart, and sexy as hell. I am damn lucky to have a woman like you. I don’t know what I did to deserve you but I hope I keep doing it so I can have you forever.”

“Forever?”

“That’s the plan, baby,” I declare as I bring her in for another kiss. “Don’t you know my world stops and ends with you?”

* * *

“Look who finally made it,” Kent shouts as we enter the music hall that serves as the final stop of the evening. Carina and Tiffany fawn over Lola when she scurries over to join them. I can’t help but smile when I see her pull out the bracelets and animatedly tell them about our day.

Ever since I put that picture of us online earlier, Lola has been beaming. If I’d have realized what an impact posting us would have made on her, I would have done it weeks ago. Molly sent me a smirking emoji over text when she told me engagement was through the roof. Apparently, it is my top performing post of all time and it has only been a few hours. I’m not surprised, though. Cute goats, pretty girl, what’s not to like?

“If it isn’t Mr. Social Media Official,” Robby teases.

“I don’t care about that,” Kent shuts him down. “I want to know how I can play with those goats and the certified hottie in the background of that picture.”

“Of course, that’s what you want to know. The goats are at the winery where Robby got married and the certifiedyoga instructoris the one who puts on the class. Clearly you didn’t read the caption of my post because it talks all about it.”

“Reading is for losers,” he murmurs over his drink.

“You’re a child,” Robby chastises. “Aside from goat yoga, what else did you do? Carina was ‘ooo-ing’ and ‘ahh-ing’ over the group chat all day.”

I tell the guys about metalworking, the Korean BBQ restaurant where you can cook your meat at the table, and two-step lessons. Everyone was surprised at how smooth my moves were, which was low-key offensive as a North Carolina boy. I’m a big guy. I can see why they would be shocked, but doing the splits is a part of my job.

“Damn, that’s a full day,” Robby remarks. “What’s being checked off here?”

“This is a tricky one,” I explain. “Lola said she wanted to sing with a live band. I figured music hall karaoke would fit the bill.”

“Ah, it all makes sense now,” he nods.

“What does?” Kent asks.

“Why the girls and I are here. Carina and Tiffany love karaoke. We used to go all the time in college.”

“Exactly,” I confirm. “I thought they would help ease Lola’s nerves and having her own cheering section couldn’t hurt.”

As the band comes to the stage, the girls catch on to what is happening. Tiffany and Carina scream in delight as they head to the website to sign up and choose their songs. Lola walks over to me with a cautious expression.

“What are we going here, Brady?”

“I think you know the answer to that, sweet girl.”

“I can’t go up there and sing! There are too many people,” she whisper-shouts, arms flailing around as if I didn’t notice the crowd.

“Yes, you can,” I respond. “You can do anything you put your mind to. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“I could embarrass myself and people could throw things at me?” she sasses.

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