Page 104 of Behind the Net

Jamie gives me a quick smile, slips his shoes on, and heads to his car. Moments later, he’s back with two boxes—one huge and one about the size of a shoebox. He has to turn the big present sideways to get it in the door. They’re wrapped beautifully in bright paper and shiny red bows.

“Oh god.” I stare at them in horror. They’re going to blow my gift out of the water. “Can I go first?”

He shakes his head with a laugh as he clears the coffee table off and sets it down. “No. I’m nervous.” The corner of his mouth curves up as he hands the smaller gift to me. “You first.”

I blow a long breath out and study the present while nerves tap-dance in my stomach. Jamie raises his eyebrows and looks at his watch in an exaggerated way, and I laugh.

“Stop it,” I tell him before untying the bow. His knee bounces while I open it, and when I pull the lid off, I burst into a big grin. “You got me my own jersey?”

He studies my face with a funny look. “You like it?”

I pull the navy and white jersey out of the box, turning it to read the back.STREICHERis stitched in bold white lettering, and my body hums with something pleased, proud, and possessive.

“You don’t have to wear my name on your back,” he says quietly, watching me carefully. “We can take that part off.”

“Don’t you dare.” I hold his gaze as my insides melt into a puddle. “I want to wear your name.”

“Okay.” The corners of his mouth hitch, and his eyes warm. “I want you to, too.”

I can’t tell him the truth—that wearing his jersey, having his name on me, makes me feel like we’re so much more than we are, and that I love it. I love every inch of this present.

He tilts his chin at the bigger box. “Next.”

Curiosity fires around in my brain as I unwrap it with care. The size of the box is a lot like—

Nope. I don’t even want to get my hopes up.

“I hope it’s a motorcycle.” I wiggle my eyebrows at him.

His eyes gleam like he’s enjoying this, watching me open presents he gave me. I don’t know what to make of that. It makes me feel special and cared for, and there’s another hard thump in my chest. I pull the last of the wrapping away, and my breath catches.

“Jamie,” I whisper, staring at the box. My throat feels tight.

His finger brushes the back of my hand playfully. “Open it.”

I press my lips into a flat line, wavering, before I flip the lid off.

Yep. There it is, but instead of in the front window of the guitar store, it’s sitting on the table.

It’ssobeautiful, but it’s more than that. This guitar is something I thought I couldn’t have, and yet, here it is. My eyes well up with emotion and I blink fast to clear them.

“It’s too much.” I can’t look at him. If I look at him, I’ll cry. Or kiss him. I’m not sure.

“It’s not too much.”

“It’s too expensive.” My feelings for him grow by the second, expanding like a balloon.

“Pippa.” His voice is firm, leaving no wiggle room. “I’d buy you every guitar in the city if I thought you’d let me.”

Shit. This guy’s going to break my goddamned heart.

When I finally look at him, his expression is so proud, and I know he’s telling the truth about buying every guitar he could.

Shit.

“Saying thank you feels like not even close to enough. You’re spoiling me.” I run my fingers over his name on the jersey.

He shrugs his big shoulders. “So let me spoil you.”

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