Page 40 of The Catch

She grabs my hand like we do this everyday, and we leave. It seems natural when she lets go of my hand as we get in the car. My hand cools fast without her warmth. It's a visceral loss.

I think about it all the way home, and while we put her boxes away the condo. She starts to make dinner for us, and the memory latches to my ribs and weave a net on it, until I wonder if it will ever go away.

Something tells me it won't.

Chapter 15

Ames

"You should go to a game wearing Saint's jersey." Bear takes a swig of his beer. "That will really get Aidan thinking."

Dom pops a cheese cube into his mouth. "We don't want him thinking. We want him fuming!"

While Saint stands near me, taking small tasks off my hands like the most enthusiastic, best trained sous chef, the guys sit across from us at the other side of the kitchen island. We prepared a quick charcuterie board, served drinks, and I got busy preparing a hearty meal.

Now we debrief the events of the day, and my heart hasn't stopped drumming loudly against my breastbone. It's a slow, deep, persistent rhythm. Warmth underscores every beat, because these guys barely know me, and yet they're so clearly in my corner.

"Calling it a spectacle." Dom snorts. "He had to be jealous."

"Agreed," Damián says. "You guys were on point. It looked like you were just about ready to jump each other. He had to have seen it."

On low heat, I toast the nuts I plan to add to my favorite pesto recipe. It will wake up the oils in each seed, and it allows me some privacy. If I focus on the stove, they can't look at my face.

I'm sure I'm blushing. Again. I can still feel the spot where Saint's hand brought me close to him, and the memory alone is enough to speed up my blood.

The way he gazed at me like he wanted me. The way his hard body became a pillar to support my softness. His promise to flirt with me.

He kissed my temple, then my hand, until all my skin tingled from his touch. When we held hands, with the warmth of his large palm against mine, and those thick, long fingers that just… they could…

Aaahhh.

I clear my throat, drink some water, and take the basil out of the fridge to use as decoration. If I stick my head in and let the appliance cool me down, they might not notice what the memories are doing to me.

"No, seriously." Dom nods as if to assert his point. "Come to a game, Ames. I'll get you a jersey with Saint's last name in big, bold letters on the back."

I steal a glance at the piano. Movers I didn't know about made room for it at the corner of the condo. It was all set up before we arrived. The living room area itself is a bit tighter now, and a couple of armchairs are gone, but the instrument looks incredible. Like it was always meant to be there. A maintenance person left only twenty minutes ago, too. I don't know enough about it to discern if they did a good job, but I'm learning Saint doesn't do things halfway.

"Maybe I should go to a game after all," I say.

"Don't pressure her." Saint leans on the kitchen island in a sexy and relaxed pose.

Mischief dances in his eyes. I do my best to hide the smile that wants to take over my face, just because he looks playful. Like my brain immediately wants to match him.

He gazes at me, though he talks to his friends. "I don't even think that she likes football."

I smirk. "All I will say is that the extent of my sport watching isrugbyclips on social media."

They all groan, except for Damián who laughs.

I give him a conspiratorial look and I fake whisper, "It's the thighs."

"I've been told I have great thighs," Saint says.

"We all do," Logan adds.

"Respectfully," I insist, "rugby players are something else. But if I can watch one of your games with Evie and your other guests, maybe I can manage the anxiety and watch you all play."

Saint is about to respond when his phone rings. To everyone's surprise, Logan's ring tone goes off as well.