Page 37 of Whimsical Ink

“But what’s the fun in that?”

“You’re right. I’ll have fun anyway. Hey, maybe I’ll help you win this year.” I brush a finger down the tattoo I gave him a few months ago.

He finally convinced me to take my winnings and add whatever design I wanted to his sleeve. Turns out I’m sentimental and added a tiny yellow wicket and bat on his inner bicep. He smiled when he saw it and demanded I add a little bucket hat balancing on the wicket. So I did.

“I don’t need a pity win.” He sticks his bottom lip out and I bounce on my toes to kiss it. His arm snakes around my waist and deepens the kiss, tilting me backwards until I lose balance and laugh against his mouth as he catches me and gently lowers me to the sand.

“I love you,” I mouth to him, and he grins at me.

“I’ll love you more if you help me win.” He helps me up and brushes sand from my back, and when his hands drift lower than appropriate in public, I spin to face him and hold his hands captive.

I scoff. “No, you won’t. You’ll get all smug and make a hat with ‘Champion’ on it for yourself.”

“Then we’ll be matching! We’re a couple, we should match.”

I shake my head and huff a laugh.

“How about I make another bet with you?” he asks, wrapping his arms loosely around my waist.

“Again? You never win them.”

“I know.”

“Okay, what are we betting on?”

“If I win, I’ll get the ring from the bottom of my bag and propose to you.”

My eyes widen in surprise, and a slow smile spreads across my face. Nothing could contain it. “And if I win?”

“If you win, then you propose with the ring I found at the bottom of your bag.” His eyes are red-rimmed but his smile is wide, hands shaking slightly on my back, but none of it matters.

I slap his chest. “I can’t believe you found it. How did you find it?”

“Sweetie, it wasn’t hidden very well.”

I cross my arms, and they rest against his chest.

“Fine, I was looking for your eczema cream and I saw the box.” He tugs me close until my arms are trapped between us and I wrap them around him. My chin rests on his chest and we lock eyes.

He nudges my hat up. “So. Wanna bet?”

“I do.” I untangle myself and head to the line, catching the ball Ollie throws at me and turn to him. “But you’re gonna have to work for it.”

He takes the bat handed to him and whacks the sand. “I wouldn’t want anything less.”

I throw the ball, and the game begins.

And I let him win.