“We’d get noticed,” he says. “Isn’t that what we need?”

I shrug. “I guess, but … there’s so many people.”

“We could just make out right here instead. Everyone would see us and probably take pictures.”

“Make out?” I ask, biding time as my mind goes wild thinking back to the last time we made out in the alley.

“Which is it going to be, Andrews, dancing or kissing?”

I look down at the crowded dance floor and then back at him. I surmise that either option is dangerous. I don’t even realize it when my tongue comes out to wet my lips. But he does, and he leans in and takes me into his arms. Then he expertly tucks a stray piece of hair behind my ear before his mouth captures mine.

This isn’t like the chaste kiss he gave me at the basketball game. He goes all in, parting my lips with his and exploring my mouth with his tongue. He’s gentle and demanding all at once. I forget why we’re doing this as I get lost in his kiss. He tastes of beer and mint. He tastes like nothing I’ve ever had. He tastes so much better than I remember.

For a second, I come to my senses and remember this is just for show. I wonder how I’m going to be able to do this for six more months. I mean, holy cow, he’s a good kisser. Then he deepens the kiss, and all thoughts of contracts and arrangements cease as his hands explore my lower back and pull me even closer to him. He pulls me so close, I can feel what the kiss is doing to him.

I’m glad it’s loud in here, because I can feel the groans emerging from my throat. I wonder if he can too. My knees go weak and he holds me up, pressing me against the railing and dipping me slightly over to make sure people get a good view.

When he finally pulls away, I’m left without any breath. Without any senses. Without any words.

He smiles at me. “That ought to do the trick,” he says.

“Uh … Yup,” I say, wiping my lower lip.

I hear a slow whistle and then Bass comes to stand next to me. “Damn, guys, that was almost like watching porn.”

Sawyer laughs and then flags down the waitress for a few more drinks. I look at Bass, wondering if he meant for his comment to be funny, because he looks a little green around the gills, which confuses me because he’s not drinking.

“Don’t drink too much, Penny. You know alcohol doesn’t mix well with that shit you take for your fingers.”

“What’s he talking about?” Sawyer asks me.

I wiggle my fingers in the air. “Sometimes when I practice a lot, my fingers and wrists get really tight so I take a muscle relaxant. I’m not supposed to drink too much because I can get a bit loopy.”

“Loopy?” Bass says, laughing. “She practically blacks out. The first time it happened she didn’t remember half the night. Nobody could tell she was even drunk, but the next day, when I was talking about the night before, she had no recollection.”

Sawyer studies me. “Really?” he says. Then he hands my drink to Bass. “Well then no more drinks for you. And you need to make sure to tell me when you’ve taken one of those pills so I can keep you safe.”

Bass puts the drink on a nearby table. “Thanks, but I’m not drinking during my training.”

I nod to his date. “Brooke looks kind of bored, maybe you should dance with her.”

While they go dance, I talk with Piper.

“Well, after that kiss, there won’t be any question as to who his girlfriend is,” she says, fanning herself dramatically.

“I kind of get the idea he wants it that way,” I say. “I feel like he doesn’t want to hide me from everyone. I thought maybe he would because of how he usually is with women.”

“He’s different with you, that’s for sure,” she says. “Maybe he’s finally ready to settle down.”

“Settle down?” I give her crazy eyes and hope I’m playing a convincing part of the skeptical new love interest. “I don’t think either of us is looking for that. We’re just having fun.”

Piper and I get to know each other as she asks me all about Juilliard and I fawn over pictures of their daughter. By the time we say goodbye, we’ve exchanged numbers and I again wonder how many friends I’m going to make and then lose when this is over.

Thirty minutes later, Bass and I are home, sitting on our couch with my head on his shoulder as we talk about how surreal the night was.

“Penny, I noticed something earlier. You told Piper the wrong story. You said you met Sawyer when that bus splashed you, but the story is you met at the bar when the team went out for Spencer’s birthday.”

I sit up and cover my mouth. “Oh, my God. You’re right. I can’t believe I did that. Do you think anyone will figure it out?”

He shakes his head. “No, it’s not a big deal. You could say you were confused or something. But I’d try to stick to the same story from here on out. All in all, I think you guys pulled it off. Piper and Mason didn’t have a clue, and they are friends with him.”

“Good. I’ll have to be more careful.” I stretch my arms and yawn. “I’m off to bed.”

“Goodnight,” he says, going to his room.

I lie in bed trying not to think of the kiss but failing miserably. Then I fall asleep and dream of butterflies.

Chapter Fifteen

Sawyer

As I make the drive to New Haven, I think about the tabloid photos Murphy emailed to me early this morning. They’re perfect. Photos of Aspen and me at the Knicks game and at the club are all over the internet as well. Photos of us looking at each other, of us touching. And the ones from when I kissed her in the club – those are the best.

Captions read, ‘Has the fastest man in baseball finally been tamed?’ and, ‘Most eligible Hawk captured.’

I wonder if Rick and Jason have seen any of them. Those are the two people making the decisions. My manager and the owner hold my fate in their hands. And in a few weeks, when I know I’ll be taking Aspen to a benefit put on by the Hawks, they will see I’m in a committed relationship. I can’t wait to see the look on Rick’s face.

I pull into Lucy’s driveway, hoping she’ll let me take Danny to Silver Sands to do some fishing. While I still hate going there, he loves it. He gets excited when we go fishing. And today is a beautiful spring day, perfect for being on the coast.

I only have a few hours since we fly to Tampa tonight, but I might not be able to get back here for at least a few weeks, so I wanted to come out this morning.

Lucy answers the door. “Aren’t you popular today,” she says.

I narrow my eyes at her.

“You must know your picture is all over television and social media. Who is she?”

“Just someone I met a few weeks ago. She’s nice. We’ve been out a few times.”

“A few times? Isn’t that some kind of record?” she says sarcastically.

“I didn’t come here to talk about my social life, Lucy. I was wondering if I could take Danny fishing today.”

Her lips pucker and she puts her hands on her hips. “Silver Sands, I suppose?”

“Of course.”

She sighs and thinks about it. “I don’t know.”

“Come on, Lucy. You never take him yourself.”

“For good reason. It’s a terrible place.” She rubs her temples like she’s got a headache.

“Yes, but he doesn’t know that, and he loves it there.”

Danny comes into the room, sees me and smiles big. “Is that for me?” he asks, seeing the football in my hand.

“You bet it is. I had my friend, Mason Lawrence, sign it for you. But no throwing it in the house or your mom will kill me.”

I gently toss him the ball and am impressed when he catches it. He’s normally pretty awkward.

“Can we go outside and throw it?” he asks.

I look at Lucy, staring her down, hoping she’ll give in to my earlier demand.

“Okay, fine,” she says. “But no going over to Charles Island.”

I laugh. “I’m not taking him to Charles Island.” I turn to Danny. “Maybe we can take the football with us and throw it on the beach.”

His eyes go wide. “Yes! Yes!” Then he runs into his room and comes out with his fishing pole. He tries to open the front door but Lucy stops him.

“Hold on there, big fella. Let me make you two a couple of sandwiches. And you need to take a jacket. It’s breezy on the coast.”

Ten minutes later, Danny and I are on our way to Walnut Beach and Silver Sands State Park. I tell him all about Charles Island even though I know he doesn’t really understand it, but it’s something to talk about along the way.

“When I was a teenager, some of my friends and I used to come to the beach, and when it was low tide, we would walk over to Charles Island.”

“What’s low tide?” he asks.

“It’s when the ocean doesn’t come on shore as much,” I tell him. “When the tide is low and there isn’t enough water to cover all the land by the shore, there is a sandbar you can walk on to get over to Charles Island.”

Danny is no longer interested in my story, as he’s busy studying his new football, so he doesn’t ask me any more questions. But I continue to tell him about it anyway.

“Once, a friend and I got stuck over on the island all night because the tide came back in before we could make the half-mile walk across the sandbar.”

I laugh, just thinking about it and realize that place does still hold some good memories. “Brandon Miller was the kid I was with. He was scared to death of all the sounds we heard that night on the island. It’s a wildlife sanctuary with a lot of birds, so I could see how some people would get creeped out. I wasn’t afraid, but I was cold. It was late April and it got cold as shit … uh, cold as heck at night, and all I had on was a light jacket. But our phones still worked, so we called our parents saying we were going to spend the night at each other’s houses so we wouldn’t get in trouble.”