Page 26 of Wrong Number, Right Grumpy Player

“You’re not seriously thinking?—“

“We’ll only be there for a second.”

I burst out laughing. “You want us to hide behind a ficus?”

“It looks pretty full.” He tries very hard not to smile. “Come on.”

Before I can protest, he gently takes my hand and leads me behind the enormous planter.

We both crouch. I look over at him. He looks back at me. Then we both start laughing.

Silent, shoulder-shaking laughter.

“This,” I whisper, “is the least cool thing an NFL quarterback has ever done.”

“I don’t know.”

“I do.”

“One of my buddy’s once got stuck inside a mascot costume.”

I blink. “...Excuse me?”

“I’ll explain later.”

“You absolutely will.”

We wait another few seconds.

The bloggers wander toward the restaurant entrance instead.

Cal peeks around the leaves. “I think we’re clear.”

As he turns back... He’s closer than I expected. Much closer.

His hand is still wrapped around mine.

Neither of us lets go. The laughter fades.

Neither of us says anything.

“So...” He searches my face. “I’ve been thinking about kissing you again.”

Heat rushes into my cheeks. “I hoped you were.”

His thumb brushes lightly across my knuckles. “May I?”

I don’t answer right away. Not because I’m unsure. Because I want to remember this.

This man. Who asks. Who waits. Who somehow makes me feel like the only person in the world.

I smile. “Please.”

He closes the distance slowly. Giving me every chance to change my mind.

I don’t.

I meet his lips halfway And this kiss is softer than before. Longer. More steady. More sure.