“It was a big deal,” I roar, losing my ability to keep it together. When I glance at her, she’s startled, but she doesn’t move.

  “Wh-why was it a big d-deal?”

  Great, now I made her stutter. Could this night get any worse?

  Realizing she’s not going to let me leave without an explanation, I say, “Because, I wanted you there, okay?”

  “Why?” she asks softly.

  Succumbing to defeat, I say, “Don’t you see, Milly? Don’t you see the way I am whenever I see you? Don’t you see the way I itch to touch you? Don’t you see how desperate I am to spend more time with you?” Her eyes widen in surprise. “Fuck . . . you don’t, do you?”

  Her head shakes. “No, I . . . no, I had no clue. I’m”—she bites her bottom lip—“I’m n-not your type.”

  “How the fuck do you know what my type is?” I ask, offended. How the fuck can she not know?

  “I . . . I don’t, b-but, Carson. Come on.”

  “Come on, what?”

  “I’m . . . me.”

  “Yeah, I know exactly who you are,” I say, growing angrier and more passionate by the second. “I know that you’re Milly Potter with the devastating dimples and ocean-blue eyes. I know you’re Milly Potter with the perfect laugh and beautiful sense of humor. I know that you’re Milly Potter with more knowledge about the game I love than any person I can even comprehend, and I know you’re the Milly Potter who continues to invade my mind every second of every goddamn day.” I take a step forward and pull her hand into mine, linking our fingers together. God, how long have I wanted to do this?

  She doesn’t say anything at first, just stares at our connection in awe, shock, and surprise. When she finally brings her eyes back to mine, they’re watery.

  Quietly, she says, “You’re holding my hand.” Her surprise? It’s just adorable enough to chip away at my annoyance.

  “I am.”

  She studies our connection some more, tears filling her beautiful eyes. “You’re holding my hand.”

  And just like that, my anger vanishes, and I pull her into my chest and wrap my arm around her shoulders. It only takes a few seconds before I hear her sniffle, snapping my will. I press my lips to the top of her head, her cheek, and then I lift her face so I can see those soulful eyes of hers. I brace myself, lean down, and kiss the tip of her nose right before I lift her mouth a little higher, angling her just right so when I bend even lower, my lips match directly with hers.

  Hesitant at first, she scares me, not giving me her sweet mouth, but after a few passes of my lips, she moves her free hand up my chest to the back of my neck and presses into me.

  And fuck is it amazing.

  Soft, sweet, and timid, it’s everything I could have hoped for in a kiss from Milly. That’s until her lips part, letting my tongue swipe inside her mouth.

  That’s when I truly get lost. Everything around us falls to silence, and the night just becomes me and my girl, Milly.

  Chapter Seventeen

  MILLY

  Is this really happening right now?

  Am I dreaming?

  If I’m dreaming, why does this feel so real?

  Not only is Carson Stone kissing me, but he’s . . . oh God, I’ll cry again.

  He’s holding my hand. It’s what I’ve wanted for such a long time, to have a guy hold my hand, appreciate me enough to want to reach out and touch me. Intimately.

  But Carson sees me.

  He truly, truly sees me.

  My hand grips tighter to the back of his neck, not wanting this moment to end, but my traitorous emotions take over and my tears start falling.

  Pulling away with a hazy look on his face, he studies my eyes and then my tear-stained cheeks, causing his demeanor to change into protection mode. I’ve seen this side of him before. The first time was when I almost didn’t get his glove to him before an away trip. He was protecting me from myself. It was the first time he held me, and I swear I can still feel his arms around me from that day.

  But this concern is deeper as he bends at the knees to get a better look. “What’s going on? Why are you crying?”

  “I’m sorry.” I wipe at my eyes from behind my glasses. “I’m never this emotional, but you do something to me that turns me into a mushy, unstable female.”

  He chuckles and whispers, “I hope that’s a good thing.”

  I don’t answer him, I can’t, my throat is all jammed up, so instead of reaching for an answer, he grips my hand tighter—which only causes me to tear up all over again—and he guides me back to the field and into the dugout where we both take a seat facing each other on the bench. He sets his backpack down and grabs my other hand, bringing them closer.

  “Milly, look at me.”

  Through blurry eyes, I try to focus on the man in front of me, the one I thought only saw me as his coach, as a possible friend, never anything like this, like he described me as.

  “Tell me these are all good, happy tears.”

  I nod. “They are.” I take a deep breath. “I’m sorry I’m such a wreck. I . . .” I settle my racing heart. “This was the last thing I ever expected to happen.”

  “Seriously? Milly, what do you think this last week has been?”

  “I don’t know.” I shake my head. “My imagination?” A gentle brush-off?

  He tilts his head to meet my eyes. “Your imagination? Does that mean you were hoping something would happen?”

  I chew on the inside of my cheek. “Are we being open an honest with each other?”

  “Yes, if anything, I always want you to be open and honest with me.”

  “Then yes, in my wildest dreams, I thought about you actually looking at me as someone other than your coach. But honestly, I was convinced it would never happen. I’m always the friend, never the girl guys want to be with.”

  He cups my chin and says, “You are the girl I want, the girl I want to be with.” His face gentles, and a small smile picks up the corner of his lips. “Will you go on a date with me, Milly . . . tonight?”

  “Tonight?”

  I nod. “Tonight. If you say yes, I have everything we need in my backpack.”

  “Seriously? You were planning this?”

  “I should have planned it here all along, but I was nervous as shit to show you how I felt.”

  “Nervous? You, Carson Stone, nervous?”

  “Yeah.” He grows serious. “Damn, Milly, you have absolutely no clue how amazing you are, do you?” My grin falls when I hear the tone in his voice. “When I first saw you in the weight room, I thought you were pretty, but I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to accept everything about you. But the moment you stepped out on this field and schooled me, I knew you were something special. The more we worked together, the more I found it harder and harder to keep my hands to myself, the more I found it difficult to hide my attraction. And when I took small chances to show you how I felt, to give you a hint toward what I was feeling, you fled before I could take my next breath.”

  “Because I was so desperate for you,” I answer. “Because I didn’t want you to see how I reacted to you, how much I wanted you to be mine. Not because I wanted nothing to do with you. I wanted all of you. It’s why I fled the dining hall, why I had a hard time getting up on my bed, why I didn’t go to the party. I was so nervous of exposing my true feelings, worried you’d then politely let me down.”

  “Jesus.” He scrubs his face and laughs. “Shit, Mills, could you imagine where we would be now if we’d actually given in to our feelings instead of hiding them?”

  “Probably in the same spot, because I’m really awkward and make things weird.”

  “Well, if what we have is weird, I really like weird. I really like you, Milly. A lot.”

  Total elation fills me as I try to process his words.

  Carson Stone, the boy who I quickly crushed on, actually likes me. Milly, the girl who doesn’t know how to dress herself or do her hair, but she can pick out the spin of a baseball from twenty feet away. He likes me.

  It’s almost too much to handle.

  “So how about that date? You up for it?” he asks.

  Am I up for a date with Carson? I’ve shamelessly dreamt of this moment since we started training together. There is no way I’d say no at this point, not after that speech, not after his beautiful words, and surely not after that kiss.

  If he wants me, he can have me. All of me.

  * * *

  “I must say, your food spread is so refined.” I pick up a mini Nutter Butter and plop it in my mouth.

  Spread out on a plastic dining hall tray in his attempt of a charcuterie board is a combination of caramel M&M’s, Nutter Butters, Bugles, Combos, Red Vines, and carrots in a cup. The carrots, because he said he loves them. It made me laugh.

  “Thank you.” He leans back on one hand, a Red Vine hanging out of his mouth. “Some people might call it fancy.”

  “Really fancy, and the orange soda really adds to the level of posh and sophistication.”

  “That’s exactly what I was going for, sophistication.” He kisses the tips of his fingers like a douche.

  “I also enjoy sitting on your face,” I say, taking in the Carson Stone picture blanket he laid out on the grass.

  His head lulls to the side and he stares down at me. “I expect to hear you say that more than once.” He winks, and the minute the innuendo hits me, my face heats up. He sees my embarrassment and asks, “What? Never sat on a guy’s face before?”

  “Oh my God, Carson.”

  He laughs and pokes my side. “Come on, if we’re dating, we can talk about this kind of stuff.”

  “Yeah, I know, but I need you to realize something. I’ve only hung out with guys. I honestly don’t have any girlfriends and yeah, it might be weird, but I’ve just gotten along with guys better.”

  “Okay, that’s fair, but what does that have to do with telling me if you’ve ever sat on a guy’s face?”

  I do love how candid Carson is.

  “Because I don’t ever talk about this kind of stuff . . . like ever. Shane and Jerry joke around about sex but we never go into anything serious, and Lord knows I don’t talk to my brothers about it. So it’s just weird for me.”

  He reaches out and pulls me toward him, situating me so I’m straddling his lap and staring at him as he leans back on his elbows. It’s unfair how attractive he is with his carved jawline and daring eyes. He literally makes me lose my train of thought.

  “No need to be weird around me. Trust me, I think we passed weird the night you shoved a cookie in my mouth.”

  I cover my eyes with both my hands and groan. “God, I’d hoped you’d forgotten about that by now.”

  “Mills, there’s no way in hell I’ll ever forget about that. It’s one of my favorite memories of you. The look of pure terror on your face.” He chuckles. “It was the best thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “Glad I could humor you.”

  He squeezes my thigh, sending a new thrill up my leg to my core. Oh boy, I’m pretty sure I’m far too attracted to this man if my body is reacting like that to a light squeeze.

  “Okay, stop avoiding the question.”

  Sighing, I say, “No, I have not sat on a guy’s face.”

  “Good.” He slyly smiles. “You can do that with me for the first time.”

  “And here I thought I was weird.”

  “You’re telling me you didn’t have any naughty thoughts of me?” He draws a lazy circle on my knee.

  I shift on his lap, feeling the contraction of his abs beneath me. “I mean, of course I did. I’m human.”

  “Yeah?” His smirk grows even wider. “Tell me all about them.”

  “No.” I cross my arms over my chest. “That’s embarrassing.”

  “Hey now, what happened to being open and honest with each other?” He pins me with his question. I hate that he has a point, but sex dreams? Fantasies? We just kissed like half an hour ago. “How about this, I’ll tell you one and you tell me one, and I’ll go first.”

  “I guess that’s fair.” I bite my bottom lip, feeling nervous but excited.

  “My top one is easy—you in my jersey, unbuttoned, with nothing else on besides a thong and my hat. I swear I’ve jacked off to that image at least a dozen times.”

  I choke on my own saliva and start coughing uncontrollably, causing him to laugh and rub his hands over my thighs until I can control myself. Did he really just say that?

  He’s masturbated to me?

  Well, that’s something I didn’t know.

  “Weren’t expecting to hear that, were you?”

  “Nope.” I laugh and shake my head. “Not even a little.” I pause and lean forward, whispering, as if I speak any louder, the sacred outfield grass could hear me. “You’ve thought of me that way?”

  “Hell yeah.” He continues to rub my thighs. “You’re gorgeous, Milly. I’d be broken if I didn’t think about you that way.”

  A blush creeps up the back of my neck. “No one has ever spoken to me like that.”

  “Well, you’ve been hanging around the wrong people. Can I ask you a serious question?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And don’t get mad at me, okay? But, are you a virgin? And it doesn’t matter to me if you are, that won’t change anything. Just thought I’d ask so I know for the future.”

  I smile softly at him and press my hand against his chest. “No, but that was sweet to ask. I might be naïve when it comes to the romance thing, but I’ve had a couple hookups along the way. Trust me though, nothing that’s blown my mind. They were more of, I’m slightly drunk and lonely.”

  “Anyone I would know?”

  “Maybe. Carlton on the golf team?”

  “Carlton?” he asks in a disgusted voice. “Milly.”

  “Remember, drunk and lonely.”

  “You’re not fucking lonely anymore. You have me and when the time comes, trust me, I’ll be a thousand times better than Carlton.” There’s no doubt in my mind about that. Just from the way his large hands move back and forth on my thighs, he already has me geared up and ready to go. “Now, about that fantasy.” He nudges me with his finger.

  “You’re going to think it’s stupid and it’s nothing compared to yours. Which, for the record, I don’t own a thong.”

  “What?” He sits up, moving me along with him. I’m still on his lap but now we’re face to face. “What do you mean you don’t own a thong?”

  “It’s not a proper piece of underwear.”

  He drags his hand down his face. “Mills . . . do you wear . . .”

  “Granny panties?” He peeks through his fingers and nods. “No.” Exhaling, he pulls me into a hug.

  “Thank God. Or else I’d be running to the store tomorrow.”

  “That’s awfully shallow of you. What if I did wear granny panties, then what?”

  Grinning, he says, “I guess I’d help pick your wedgies for you.”

  “Oh my God.” I go to push him away but he pulls me in even closer, keeping his hands firmly placed on my back so I can’t go anywhere. This touching, this intimacy, it’s still so very new to me, but so welcome. And I like it. I like him. “Just so you don’t have nightmares at night, I wear cheekies.”

  “You mean the underwear that shows half your ass?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Damn, Coach,” he drags out, making me laugh. “That’s fucking hot. Let me see them.”

  He tries to reach around me but I swat him away. “Get a hold of yourself.”

  “Listen, now that everything is out in the open, it’s going to be really hard for me to keep my hands to myself. I’ve held back for too long. It’s been torture. Watching you bend over and pick up balls, seeing your tits jiggle with every pitch you threw at me. I wasn’t taking in the speed of your arm, because I was watching your boobs.”

  “Seriously, Carson?”

  He chuckles and shrugs. “I’m a guy and you’re sexy as shit, especially when you’re holding a glove and lecturing me about fundamentals and lining my knuckles.”

  “That’s the first thing they teach you in little league. It’s appalling I had to remind you.”

  “It’s appalling you haven’t told me your fantasy yet.”

  Oh right.

  I drag my finger over his collarbone, feeling how strong he is beneath my fingertip. I can’t even begin to imagine how many times I’ve thought about touching Carson this way since he came into my life. Far too many to count, and it’s unbelievable I’m actually able to do it. That I’m sitting here, on his lap, with his arms wrapped around me, talking to him about intimate things. I did not see tonight going this way.

  “Okay, but don’t laugh at me.”

  “I would never.”

  “Liar.” He smirks. “My fantasy, honestly, was you holding my hand. I know it’s simple and not really sexy, but I’ve never really held a guy’s hand. I’ve never been in a relationship, so the little romantic heart inside me didn’t really fantasize about sex, but about the intimacy of being with another person, the touches, the smirks, the quick snag to grab a kiss.” I shrug just as he entwines our fingers together. “I fantasized about the small things.”

  Without skipping a beat, he says, “Then it’s the small things I’ll give you.”

  * * *

  “What happens if I don’t get drafted by the Bobcats?” Carson asks as he outlines the words on my shirt with his finger. He’s skimmed my boobs at least ten times now. I’m lying on the blanket and he’s leaning over me, his handsome face staring at me, a constant smile on his lips.

  It’s hard not to think of this thing between us as more of a one-way connection since I still can’t believe Carson wants me. Out of all the girls he could have, he chose me, but I’m going to get there.

  “Still a Bobbie for life,” I answer.

  “What if I’m drafted by the Warriors? Does that mean you’re going to be a Bobcats, Storm, and Warriors fan?”

  “Looks like I’ll have to make room for a new pennant.” I drag my finger down his coarse cheek. “But once a Bobbie, always a Bobbie. Sorry.”